Navajo To Go

He-Who-Fights-Bears stood beside his onetime enemy and now friend, Calming Wind.
‘Bears stood over six and a half feet, broad shouldered, eyes that could turn black with a wayward thought. His solid silence in contrast to Calming Winds’ slender, lean tautness.
Together since dawn, they had gathered whatever the hours allowed them in order to see the day through. Both men aware of the unseeing eyes passing them by.
As the sun tired of watching from high and eased itself slowly to sleep, He-Who-Fights-Bears and his friend Calming Wind emptied the contents of the small leather pouch they now shared, to inspect the day’s cache.
Five dollars exactly.

Enough for two hotdogs and a chocolate milk in the 7-11. 

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