What was just as amazing was that it was the same for the other children gathered around and listening. Each of them felt as if she or he was the one the story was about—the three hunters driving the great bear up into the sky land, the little girl who knew how to defeat the cannibal giant, even the rabbit managing to trick the wildcat that wanted to eat it. Okwaho knew this was true. He had asked the other children how they felt during the stories’ telling—especially Tawis and Clouds Forming.

Although she was the youngest daughter of Grows Corn, the head of the society of women planters, his friend Clouds Forming had little interest in farming. Because everyone knew it was important to allow children to choose their own path, her mother never forced her to go to the fields to care for the Three Sisters—the Corn, the Beans, and the Squash—with the other girls. So there was no problem when Clouds Forming chose to play with Tawis and Okwaho. Strong as any boy and a faster runner than most, she was fearless when groups of children played tewaraathon. Everyone stepped out of her way when she swung her stick to catch or throw the ball. Okwaho and Tawis enjoyed the way she always challenged them. It made them try even harder and get even better at every physical activity they shared.

Though the same age, Clouds Forming was a hand taller than Okwaho and just as strong. She could throw a spear as far and as accurately as boys who were winters older than her. Whenever the three of them wrestled, she won at least as often as either of the two boys. Then, when she had tripped or thrown one of them to the earth, she would sit on the chest of whomever she’d thrown to the ground, their dogs circling them and barking with excitement.

“You,” she would say, her voice mock serious as she poked her vanquished opponent—usually Okwaho—in the chest with her finger, “you are going to have to grow stronger if you ever expect me to choose you for a husband. I will not bake marriage bread and take it to the mother of a weakling.”

Then, she would hop up, grab Okwaho’s hand, and laugh as she pulled him to his feet.

People joked about them being triplets or sewn together with an invisible cord, for they did almost everything together and seemed to feel the same way about everything. The three of them were like kernels from the same ear of corn.

“How do you feel when a story is being told?” Okwaho had asked each of his friends in turn.

“What do you mean?” Tawis asked. “I feel the warmth of the fire. I feel the deerskin underneath me. And sometimes I feel cool air on my back when someone opens the door flap of the longhouse.”