Six Elders approved, six thought roads were death to the land. The choice would be hers.
Her animal had seen what progress did to wolf in the south, heard the weeping of trees.
“We’ll cut trees”, the businessman addressed the grove, “but it’s a win-win. Roads mean jobs for your people, and our clients will gain easier access to our resort.”
My people need work, she thought. “No trees, no people”, her animal growled back.
Help me, Mother. She looked up, and watched a thick cloud slither between sun and soil, shrouding the trees in gloom. “No roads”, she said.
photo by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields