Long, long ago, when the wind had no names and the earth had not yet learned to speak, she appeared - a woman born of winter's breath and red cliffs. She Who Walks with Snow.

She whispered in the breath of white coyotes, seen in the curve of a feather dropped behind, heard in snow that melted without sound. She spoke with her absence, and the land listened without needing to understand.

They say, if the wind ever speaks in a foreign tongue — do not be afraid. It is her. She returns when the world forgets to listen.