"Oh gosh," Rain said dreamily. "There were so many. On the rez they'd tell stories about how the world came to be. They'd tell stories about brave warriors and how they saved the people. They'd tell stories about foolish children who didn't listen to their elders and got lost in the woods and met talking animals."

"On the streets, there was an old black man who'd tell stories about Anansi - the man who stole all the stories from the Sky God and gave them to the people. He was wonderful to listen to." She looked sad suddenly. "He died in his sleep one night. I went to his stoop to find him in the morning and he was just all dead."