"Howah! This is the fourth time this moon we have been robbed," an Ojibwe youth exclaimed. He snatched the empty snare moodily, a frown decorating his face. His shoulder length black hair swung with him as he turned toward his older brother, who looked similar. That is to say, coppery skin, brown eyes, and a rabbit skin medicine pouch hanging around his neck. The eldest brother had much longer hair of the same color, tied back with a sinew cord. "Have patience, Changing Skies," the older brother counseled, "This is the Creator's way of telling us to change what we are doing. Ondaas,(Come) we will go someplace else." "Iron Wood, you fool. All of our traps have been set off or stolen from! What are we to do, not eat at all?" Changing Skies snapped. "Geygo, Neshemay. (Stop it, little one) Hold your tongue and respect those wiser than you. You must learn to accept things as they are," Iron Wood said firmly. Together, the sixteen and twenty year old went back down the trail leading to the village. They walked slowly, reluctant to return to their nimoshe(Lovers, wives) empty handed. A pair of golden, amber-colored eyes followed them. When they were out of sight and their scent had faded, the little wolf pup stood up. Tongue lolling, the female bounded down the trail, through a brier patch, over a creek, and stopped in a poplar thicket. Her eyes sparkled in amusement as she spotted something dangling in the air. A rabbit. It was suspended four feet off the ground. She jumped up, closed her jaws, and landed. Too short. Leap, snap, thud! Missed again. Jump, chomp, crash! One more time. She gathered herself up, sprang wide, and closed her teeth on an ear. Eya! Yes! Acting swiftly, she clamped the body between her paws and sliced through the cord suspending it. Voices could be heard coming; she beat a hasty retreat. Crouching low in a patch of ferns, the puppy waited. "Banajii! (Damn it!)" That was the angry voice of Changing Skies. "We will have to use longer cords so they cannot be easily reached," Iron Wood sighed, examining the clean cut trap. His younger brother grunted, but said nothing. He merely stuffed the snare in his bandolier bag, then started back the way they had come. All the while, a glossy black wolf pup named Running Star watched them, laughing silently. Until the sound of rustling leaves caused her to turn her head inquiringly.