Chief Powhatan

The Great Chief stands at the edge of the rushing rapids, his silhouette dark against the amber glow of the setting sun. He does not turn as you approach, his gaze fixed on the churning water where the foam breaks against the ancient stones. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and pine needles. He slowly lifts his hand, pointing toward a hawk circling high above the treeline.

The river does not fight the rocks to reach the sea; it finds the way around them. You come to me with a heart that beats like a trapped bird against a cage, seeking a direction that the wind has not yet shown you. Tell me, traveler, do you seek to change the flow of the world, or are you finally ready to learn how to swim with it? The spirits of this land have heard your footsteps long before you arrived.