He crashed through a soft bush and he saw a four-legged beast bound away from him. The elegant speed by which the animal seemed to hop or bounce over the ground was stunning and beautiful in the moonlight.

  A howl pierced the silent night sky all around him and all he knew was fear. He watched the beast plant itself into a stop, its head and ears swiveling all around itself. Then he saw the others, the predators, the sharp clawed and sharp toothed animals that preyed on the weak.

  They came out of nowhere surrounding the fleet footed beast before it took off to the side. The predators moved and flowed with the beast, simultaneously coordinating their attacks at the beast’s flanks and hind quarters. The beast was allowed to run across the open plain. He was too terrified to move as the shadowed death creatures moved and taunted the beast driving it to move faster, ever faster. He thought he could see blood flow from many wounds.

  He didn’t know why he suddenly found himself moving, running towards the animals. He didn’t care about anything; nothing mattered now except getting to that poor animal. Nothing was worth the pained screams that he heard from the beast. He knew it was dying and the predators that tormented it seemed to revel in its helplessness.

  He scrabbled forward, forcing his tired and hungry body to move faster. He saw the animal finally fall over in the dark, the predators swarmed around it, till its cries fell silent. The man howled in pain and fear and sorrow as he rushed forward.

  His howl had cleared all but one of the predators away. Its golden eyes stared out of the darkness and fixed him in place. The predator’s mouth and teeth were red with the blood of the beast it had helped kill, but its eyes held no real malice. The predator didn’t move towards him, nor did it move away from his kill. It simply stood there gazing at him with those inhuman golden eyes.

  The man, hungry and exhausted, slipped to his knees as his strength finally failed him. The beast was dead and the predator was there. He couldn’t help but move towards the dead beast. The smell of blood was in the air. If the predator could eat the beast, then so could he, and he was so very hungry.

  The golden eyed predator watched him approach. There was no movement from him except his fur as the gentle night breeze ruffled it and caused it to wave. The wolf said nothing, judged nothing, only watched as the injured, or pained creature crawled towards him and his kill. His pack had run away from the strange howl, so unfamiliar to their ears. He was curious about these two-legged creatures that had been spotted more and more as of late. They didn’t seem to be competitors for food, but they were strange beasts.

  The man came upon the dead animal and with a heavy heart and guilty conscious, he ripped a chunk of flesh from the dead beast and closing his eyes tightly against what he was about to do, he took a bite.

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  He was standing on a cliff overlooking the great ocean far to the west. He had never been there before and yet here he was. The ocean pressed out as far as he could see, the curvature of the earth mother was plain on the far horizon of the ocean’s surface.

  He looked to his companion, a large grey wolf, old but powerful. The wolf’s golden eyes bore into his as if the great father predator was trying to communicate with him in some way. The wolf tuned his head and gazed evenly out over the ocean.

  He turned his head and attempted to find out what it was his guide was trying to tell him. What secrets lay out there in the vast landscape of water? The ocean was calm today; the glass like surface was smooth even though there was a light breeze. The ocean yawned out in front of him and suddenly the sun dipped and the reflected light of the sun blinded him causing him to reel back in pain.

  He opened his eyes suddenly from the vision quest. The wheel was as he had left it. He looked up and the sky was dark. The sun would not rise for many hours. The soft wind chilled his tired body. He took a sip of water and carefully standing up he removed each rock from each quadrant, and with his hand he carefully erased the lines that had made the quadrants.

  He then carefully stepped out of the wheel and redressed himself with the trappings of society. Then, working in perfect reverse of what he had done to create the circle; he broke and unmade the medicine wheel.

  Only after he was done did he start to reconnect himself with the real, material world. He systematically recounted who he was. His name was Celestino Honanie, he was of the Hopi tribe and had lived on the Res for all of his life. He had been trained in the ways of Medicine and had continued his people’s traditions even as the younger generations and even the older politicians of his tribe chose to forget. He was married but did not have any children. Only after he had anchored himself to the material plane did he turn his thoughts to the dream.

  The visions were muddled and incoherent. He tried to grasp their meanings. The ancient story of the Spiderwoman and how she and her tribe had been cursed for what she had attempted to do was as old as their tribe and just as well known. But he had never felt visions so clearly within another’s body before.

  Usually, the visions came to him like a dream, they were cloudy and he could only pick out certain details and come away with a general feel of what had happened. This quest was exacting in its clarity and he had taken on the forms and memories of others. His guide had taken many forms over the years; he most associated himself with that of a black messenger bird or a powerful stag. Today his guide was a predator, old and wise; this did not disturb him, it simply was.

  His thoughts turned back to the ocean, the great Pacific to the west. All his visions and many adventures within the quest seemed to be pointed there; even the great cavern city seemed to be close to the ocean somehow. Something was there, or was coming from there. At this point he couldn’t be sure. He would have to think on what had happened and meditate further.

  The cool early morning air was refreshing against his tired body. He had seen many winters, but his body still carried its familiar strength and he traversed the dark ground around him sure footed. He didn’t know how many days he had spent in the quest. Judging by his body he would guess two. This wasn’t particularly long but longer than usual.

  He walked for hours and when the sun finally crested over the far horizon, he stopped and shielded his eyes from the sudden light. He took the opportunity to turn around and gaze westward. Whatever his quest had been trying to tell him he must be ready to either aid, or protect his family from whatever was approaching.