Goodie’s reddish-blonde hair swung side to side as the oxen pulled the wagon north along the Cherokee trade-road that paralleled the Savannah River. She allowed herself to lean against her older brother, tired and dusty from the many days travel. As she allowed herself to rest, she thought she heard someone yell, “GOODIE! GOODIE! GOODIE!” She turned toward the sound and spied a black dot falling from the sky.
“AVARICE!” she squealed in delight as the old crow fluttered and lit on her uplifted arm.
Armie frowned at the happy, excited pair and said, “Now what? Doesn’t Mother trust me?”