Elizabeth could see moonlight squeezing through a crack in the drapes hung around her bedroom window. The sound of silence echoed through the room. She lay there, in her warm and cozy bed, tucked away in the corner of the upstairs bedroom, just thinking. Thinking about magic, mysteries and adventures, however one particular thought caught her attention. It was a thought about little people in the middle of nowhere living free and wild, like the olden days. When people could roam the land without having to worry about trespassing on someone’s property. Then, that train of thought slowly came to a halt at one question “Could they really be out there?” She pondered that question for a long time until she eventually got too stay awake thinking about that question and fell fast asleep

          When she woke up, she could see the sun peeking through the dark mountains on the edge of the horizon. She could hear the birds singing merrily and she could see the red, yellow, and orange fall leaves catching a ride on the wind. Elizabeth slid the sheets and covers off her shoulders and climbed out of the cozy, warm bed. Elizabeth could hear her mother’s voice coming from the kitchen downstairs “Elizabeth! Breakfast is ready!” she called in a sing-songy voice. Apparently, Elizabeth’s mother was in a good mood today. “Coming, Mother!” Elizabeth called back. She groggily pulled on her socks, slipped on her slippers, and tied on her robe. Elizabeth shuffled out of the bedroom and down the stairs into the kitchen. There, in front of her, right on the kitchen table laid the best things in the world – orange juice, an omelet just the way she likes it – with tomatoes spinach, onions, and avocadoes, with a side of French toast. Her eyes immediately popped open at the sight of those beauties.

Elizabeth hopped up onto the kitchen chair and started devouring her breakfast. Shortly after she started eating her breakfast, her father walked in the room. Since he had just woken up, his hair and eyebrows were bushy and he had sleep in his eyes. Elizabeth’s father worked at the city hall and he was in charge of making decisions about the city with his committee. Elizabeth and her family live in the city of Riseville. You could call Riseville the city of early birds because everyone was always hustling and bustling about in the morning. In the morning was when you would do all your errands and chores. During the middle of the day, everyone was off to work, however in the evening was when everyone had family time. That was the daily schedule for most people in Riseville – wake up, do errands and chores, go to work, family time, and then go to sleep.

Now, back to the kitchen table.  Elizabeth’s mother turned to her husband and looked at him with disgust. While she had her hair put up in a pretty bun with a dress and an apron, my father had striped pajamas with a robe on top, bushy hair, a bushy mustache, and slippers. Compared to my mother, my father looked like a rag doll. “Robert, you get back in that bedroom and get yourself fixed up!” she said angrily. Elizabeth’s father rushed back into the downstairs bedroom and fixed himself up in a flash. He came back out of the bedroom with tamed hair, black pants, a white shirt, and a purple tie. He definitely looked better than before, however Elizabeth’s mother still didn’t seem very pleased. Since it was almost time for her father to take her to school, Elizabeth’s forgiving mother let it pass.

After all this, she almost forgot that she still had food on her plate. Elizabeth gulped it down quickly and rushed up the stairs and into her bedroom. She changed into her school clothes in a flash and zoomed down the stairs. She slipped on her black shoes, put on her navy blue backpack, and waited for her father to finish his breakfast and put on his shoes. After he had finished getting ready, they burst through the front door and out into the crisp, fall air. They opened and closed the car door and strapped their seatbelts on. The sound of the engine whirred as they passed by yellow, green, red and orange trees. Sometimes, Elizabeth could even catch a glimpse of leaves streaming past the car window.

 She waved her father goodbye and rushed out of the car and through the double doors of the school just before the bell rang. She went to Riseville Middle School.  Her teacher’s name was Mrs. Creeny. She was the sixth grade teacher of our school.  She quickly sat down on her seat and took out her notebook and pencil from her backpack.

Mrs. Creeny started taking attendance “Dave Aury,” she called. “Here,” Dave replied. Elizabeth zoned off a little until she heard Mrs. Creeny call her name “Elizabeth Barr…Elizabeth Barr!” Mrs. Creeny called as she loomed over Elizabeth’s desk. Apparently, Mrs. Creeny was very upset with her by this time. “Y-Yes, I’m here.” Elizabeth replied trying to sound as normal and respectful as possible. “Well, you better pay a little more attention next time don’t you Ms. Barr,” she said, still in her looming position over Elizabeth’s desk. “Yes, of course Mrs. Creeny,” she replied, still trying to sound as normal and respectful as possible. “I’m glad you understand. Now, get your math notebooks out and turn to page 62 in your workbooks,” Mrs. Creeny announced. Elizabeth pulled my math workbook, notebook, and pencil from her navy blue backpack and plopped them onto her desk. “Now, let’s start with problem number one…” Mrs. Creeny said. Even though Elizabeth made sure that she could still hear what Mrs. Creeny was saying, her mind was somewhere else. Her mind went back to the question that she was pondering last night – “Could a little people really be out there?” She kept thinking about that question all through math and history until she finally heard Mrs. Creeny call “Off to lunch and recess everyone!” in a cheery tone of voice. Elizabeth gladly followed the rest of the class out to recess.

Once she got out on the playground, she found a little patch of green grass in the corner of the soccer field and waited for her friend, Olivia, to come and join me. It was sort of a tradition that Olivia and Elizabeth do every recess of every year when they’re both not absent. They pick a spot on the playground to meet at the beginning of each and every recess and stick together like glue the whole recess no matter what it is that they do. Today, when Olivia came over to the little patch of green grass next to the soccer field where Elizabeth was standing, she seemed to sense that Elizabeth was not ready to go and play wall ball or tetherball today. Knowing that, Olivia came beside her and put her hand in Elizabeth’s and asked, “Is something troubling you, Elizabeth?” she asked. “Well, not exactly, however even though I try my hardest to pay attention to Mrs. Creeny, my mind just keeps wandering off to one question. So, last night, I spent a little while in bed thinking about things that I never have time to think about, however I came across one thought that caught my attention. It was about little people in the forest living like the olden days. They would hunt and farm like the Native Americans, but this ancient tribe knew much more about the modern people living in cities, towns and villages and they always respect for nature and creature habitats. That train of thought ended with one question – could they really be out there? So, today, even though I really tried to turn my attention to Mrs. Creeny, my mind just kept wandering off to that one question.” Elizabeth replied. “Hmm…very peculiar.” Olivia remarked.  

Toro grabbed his bow and arrow and rushed outside to greet his teacher. His name is Washoa. He is Toro’s archery and horseback teacher. Even though Washoa was barely taller than his horse’s leg, he was great at horseback and archery. Today, they were going to a clearing far away from the rest of the clan so that if an arrow went was shot at the clan’s direction, it would not cause any harm. Together, Washoa and Toro walked over to where their horses were. Toro’s horse is a male and is chestnut colored with a black mane and tail and gone by the name of Black Rain. Washoa’s horse is a female and is white with splotches of brown and goes by the name of White Pebble. They mounted their horses and Washoa led Toro through moss covered trees laid with thick undergrowth to the grassy clearing where they would practice. When they got there, there was one wooden board on a wooden stand with a small black circle in the painted in the middle of it. Just as Toro was about to leap off of Black Rain, Washoa stopped him in his tracks and said “No, no, no, no, we’re staying on our horses today, Toro,” “What?” Toro replied with confusion. “We are going to learn how to master archery while on horseback.” Washoa explained. “Watch and learn.” Washoa said. “Hyah!” he called. White Pebble sped off like a rocket and raced around the clearing. Toro watched in awe as Washoa pulled his arrow back and accurately struck the wooden board with his black arrow right in the center of the black circle on the board. “Whoa!”  Toro replied, still in awe. “That was amazing! How did you do that?” “That’s what you’re going to learn today.” Washoa announced. “Cool. I can’t wait to get started.” Toro replied with anticipation. “Good. I’m glad.” Washoa said. “Let’s get started. Start riding Black Rain at a trot around the clearing and aim for the target.” Toro pulled his sharp, black arrow back and released the arrow from his smooth, wooden longbow. He just barely missed the wooden board and frowned in disappointment. “Start again.” Washoa announced.

Toro attempted to strike the black circle in the middle one more time and this time, he got a little bit closer. His black arrow struck the edge of the wooden board and made a loud “DOIINNGG!” “Getting better. Try to tilt your bow more towards the black circle in the middle of the board and don’t worry about falling off your horse.” Washoa instructed with a faint chuckle at the end. Toro tried over and over again all the way until sunset. “We better get back to where the rest of the clan is before dark so they won’t be worried about us.” Washoa said. Toro warily followed Washoa back to where the rest of the clan was. They trotted through thick undergrowth, moss covered trees, and places in the forest where the trees were so thick, that no light was able squeeze through cracks in the thick evergreen canopy.

 After a long ride, they finally got to where the rest of the camp was. The clan that they were part of was one of the last ones left. The clan name is the Pingo Peoples because of their famous Pingo dish. It consists of butternut squash, mashed corn, (sort of like mashed potatoes, but with corn) and diced and seasoned deer meat. They ate that dish almost all the time. Their type of clan had almost gone extinct after Columbus discovered America and lots of colonists came and conquered and attacked most of the Native American tribes all across America for control over land. They were just able to escape but played hide and seek with colonists for hundreds of years. They still did today; however now, they had a new method of concealing themselves – not even letting the new generation of people living in the city know that they are there. That is the reason why even though they live right next the city of Riseville, the citizens of Riseville don’t even notice that they are there. Now, back to present time. They dismounted their horses, and Washoa walked over to the chief’s tepee. The chief was wearing brightly colored moccasins and a goose feather hat. He also wore deer skin clothing. “He has done well for his first day of archery on horseback; however he will need to be much better skills to hunt the big game out there.” Washoa reported. “Good. I’m glad that you two are getting along well. Prepare the fire in the clearing. Tell me when it is ready.” The chief instructed. The chief’s name was Ingowa. The rest of the clan calls him Chief Ingowa because in this clan, respect is very important. “I will start right away, however we need more firewood.” Washoa replied. “Take Toro with you so he can help you bring it back.” Chief Ingowa said. “I will get him right away.” Washoa replied with a bow. Washoa walked out of Chief Ingowa’s cozy, warm tepee and into the cold and crisp grassy clearing in the middle of a circle of other tepees. Each tepee was unique in its own way. They differed in size, color, and design.  Washoa soon found Toro in the corner of his family’s tepee tending to his wooden longbow. “Toro, we must go and collect firewood. You must come along with me. Chief’s orders.” Washoa announced. Toro stood up, walked out of the warm tepee and into the cold, fall air. “By the way, you might need your stone hatchet.” Washoa remarked with a chuckle. “Right.” Toro replied, feeling embarrassed to forget such a thing. He ran back into the tepee and came back with a stone hatchet with a dark brown wooden handle. The hatchet was not too light, not too heavy, which is important; especially when you are chopping firewood. Together, Washoa and Toro walked into the dark forest once again. They found a fallen tree not too far off from the rest of the clan. It was a pretty big tree. It was probably taller and thicker than most trees in the thick forest when it was still standing. They started chopping at the tree with their strong stone hatchets and chopped a few big chunks out of the tree to bring back to the clan to chop there. After they had chopped two big chunks of wood, they warily brought it back to the rest of the clan. Then, they started chopping the two big chunks into many smaller chunks on a two tree stumps at the edge of the clearing. A drop of sweat steadily rolled down the side of Toro’s face. Even though he was tired, he just had a little more firewood to chop so he kept on. Washoa, on the other hand was already done with his pile of wood to chop. While Washoa and Toro were out gathering and chopping wood for the fire, Washoa’s wife was busy harvesting corn, potatoes, beans, squash and other crops that she helped grow in the fields. After Washoa and Toro had finally chopped and started the fire in the clearing, Washoa’s wife came out to cook her food for the clan. Her name was Lingao. She was a very patient and kind woman and always very approachable – especially to children. She was also a marvelous cook (which is why she was usually the one to cook the main dishes for the clan). Other women also contributed with the cooking and farming. Most of the time, men did the hunting for the clan. Their clan is one of the last ones that we know of that exists anymore. They are descendants of a mix of Northwestern Indians and Plains Indians (which is where we got the horses from). Their traditions are a mix of many different ancient Native American tribe traditions. Lingao brought one barrel of ground corn, diced deer meat, and butternut squash out from her large tepee. She placed them by the small fire and entered her tepee again, this time bringing out pots and long sticks to make a stand to roast the food over the fire. She skillfully built the stand in a nick of time and placed ground corn in the pot over the fire. Meanwhile, Toro was in his tepee, sharpening his stone hatchet. Once the stone hatchet was sharpened to Toro’s standards, he went over to his mother and helped her weave a basket for storing food. Toro wasn’t like most boys in the clan who played with other boys and hunted all day. Instead, he was always willing help his mother and father when they needed it. Also, he didn’t wait to learn the more advanced skills of hunting and gathering when he was older, which is why he had a lesson with Washoa today instead of playing with other Pingo boys. By the time he had finished that job, he helped his mother create a large, rather tasty green salad for the clan. It consisted of spinach, diced tomatoes, avocadoes, onions, and lettuce. Once it was ready, we walked out of our tepee and into the clearing where Lingao had finished making her traditional Pingo dish for the clan. Toro’s clan consisted of 20 people (including Chief Ingowa) which is why Toro’s mother, whose name was Alino, had to prepare a pretty big salad to feed everyone in the clan. There were 6 men (including Chief Ingowa), 6 women, and 8 children. Each child had their own instructor until they were skilled enough to do most work on their own. By now, Lingao had already finished making her traditional Pingo dish for the clan. All the women of the clan constantly traded off who would make the main dish for the rest of the clan. Today, it was Lingao’s turn. Tomorrow, it would be Toro’s mother’s turn, Alino. Lingao rang a special bell indicating that dinner was ready. Toro’s mother, Alino placed her big, green salad in the middle of a long wooden table with a long wooden bench on each side of the table next to the warm fire. Everyone started filing out of their tepees to come for dinner. Lingao’s dish smelled amazing. It smelled of marvelous spices and seasonings. Lingao and my mother started serving everyone’s dinner on decorated wooden plates. The plate that Lingao had given Toro had a turtle carved in the middle of the wooden plate. When Toro’s plate was given back to him, Toro’s eyes went from Lingao’s face to Lingao’s food. Toro then handed his marvelous plate to his mother for her to put some of her green salad on it. When Toro finally got his plate back, it was filled with marvelous Pingo and green salad. Before Toro could take a bite, they had to say the grace. “May we possess 

the firmness and virtue to remain honest, kind loving people. We shall also share our recources justly with peace and kindness. Bon appetite.” they said in unision. Everyone started gobbling down his or her food in a flash. Toro heard most of them say “This is delicious Lingao,” or “Couldn’t be better!” Since Toro thought the food was simply marvelous too, he joined in with the others giving out compliments to Lingao and his mother. Even Chief Ingowa joined in. When all the commotion died down and everyone was busy eating the marvelous food, Chief Ingowa assigned Toro, Washoa, and Rongo to a hunting party daybreak te next evening. Rongo is one of Washoa’s favored companions. They were good friends growing up and they still keep a tight bond together. Washoa looked at Rongo with a grin and Rongo smiled back at him. Once everyone had finished eating, Chief Ingowa instructed everyone to go to bed. Everyone slowly got up from their seat on one of the two long wooden benches and dunked their plate in a tub full of water next to the table. Tomorrow, the women would wash those dishes and to the other womanly chores that they had to do. After that, everyone thanked Lingao and Alino for the wonderful meal, and disappeared back into their tepees to get a good night’s sleep. Toro rolled out his blankets on the floor of his warm tepee with his mother and father beside him and slowly fell fast asleep.

Toro awoke the next morning to the sound of Washoa’s voice in his ear “Wake up. Wake up Toro.” “Ugh…” Toro replied. Even though Toro was tired, he stood up anyway. He grabbed his bow and arrow and slipped on his moccasins to step outside into the cold fall air. He slowly walked over to where Black Rain stood, waiting for his arrival. Toro gently stroked Black Rain’s mane while waiting for Washoa and Rongo to arrive. Finally, Toro saw Washoa and Rongo walking towards their horses. Rongo’s horse was white with brown splotches on his back and was named Running Streak. Toro mounted Black Rain, Washoa mounted White Pebble, and Rongo mounted Running Streak. Together, they raced out of the Pingo camp and into the lush, thick green forest. They stayed far from each other, looking for animal tracks hidden in the thick undergrowth on the forest floor. Even though they had spread out a bit, they were still close enough so that they could hear each other without startling the animal they were tracking. They went a little ways from camp when Toro found a deer track “Washoa, Rongo, I found a deer track!” he whispered. “Does it seem to be running at a fast sprint?” Washoa asked. “No. In fact, it seems to be very relaxed by what I can see.” Toro replied. Toro could see this in the way the tracks looked. Since they seemed to be very light and not dug into the ground that much, Toro could tell that the deer was walking and relaxed. Together, they followed the tracks on foot until the came to a clearing where the deer stood. It was tall and muscular and chewing on some long grass. Toro pulled back his arrow on his bow and released the razor sharp arrow. The arrow struck the deer’s right calf and the deer immediately started to run away but couldn’t support its weight under its injured leg. It then fell to the ground with a crash.  Washoa, Rongo, and Toro rushed over to where the dead deer lay. “Nice shot Toro!” Rongo complimented. “Thanks.” Toro replied. They hauled the heavy deer onto Washoa’s horse and proudly trotted back together with their prize back to camp. By the time they had trotted into camp, everyone was out and bustling about. Lingao was washing last night’s dishes in a tub of water to the one side of the clearing and the other women were doing their separate chores. Washoa, Rongo and Toro heaved the big deer into a pile by a big, flat rock next to Rongo’s tepee. The flat rock was used as a surface area to cut meat. The men usually did that kind of dirty work. Toro walked back inside his tepee and grabbed