There had been a massacre down river and I got into a canoe with another woman and two Indian men. We paddled to the scene where it happened. We did a good job of synchronized paddling. As we looked over the scene, I realized a storm was brewing and we needed to leave soon. I had to pray first. So I saw a cord coming down from the ceiling and I could have been less diligent and started my prayers at mid point but no, I moved my hands to hold the very top section and prayed for my father, then I moved my hands to the next section and prayed for my mother, and so on down until at the last, I prayed for me. After this, the male Indian gave each of us girls a scorpion which we placed on our heads and looked like crocheted head piece. Then we each got our feathers, which we put in our braid (we are Indian). I felt proud. Earning our feather was a brave and good thing. He praised us. Then I saw the waters quite rough from the storm and we paddled out.