Spending a much need vacation in the Native American lands in the desert. I had been visiting friends and hearing stories of the ancestors. Moving from place to place in the evenings seemed to be the best idea. I had no way of knowing what was coming. In the distance I heard the rumble of thunder. The flatlands is no place to be in a cloudburst. I began to run for a small ridge up ahead. As the storm came ever closer, I knew there was no way I would out run it. I heard a shriek like that of a hawk, although it was infinitely louder. I stopped running and turned about to see a giant bird of sorts. It wasn't trying to out run the storm, but rather it was swooping down at me. I turned to run but it was too late. I was clutched in its mighty claw. I lost consciousness. When I awoke, I was on top of the ridge. There was no sign of the storm nor the great bird. I went on to the home of the chief. I told him my story. He smiled, poured me a cup of coffee and told me I had been saved by the Southwest Sky Spirit. I took a sip of coffee and felt incredibly at ease.