By Enola Jones

Vin tried to keep busy, but he was worried.

These things usually only took three days. This was the fourth.

Ever since his adopted son had found out about Vin’s past, Vin had wondered if this day would come.

He had been startled when Ezra said he’d felt called to go on one. That was the words he used – he’d felt called. Vin had thought he was too young, but they’d sat down and worked out every angle of it.

Young or not – Ezra had definitely been called. And Vin had been supportive, as usual.

And that is how auburn-haired, emerald-eyed, lily-white Ezra Tanner had gone on a Native American Vision Quest just after his fifteenth birthday.

A sudden knock on the door startled Vin out of his thoughts and into drawing his gun from where it lay holstered on the table. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Pa.”

In one swift motion, Vin holstered the gun, crossed the room and jerked the door open.

A sunburned but beaming Ezra stepped through. He carried himself with the confident air of one who knew himself and was comfortable with that knowledge. He embraced Vin quickly, then stepped back and turned around, showing Vin the painting on the soft buckskin vest that held his new totem and name.

A great coyote with a great wolf inside. “Wolf-Coyote?” Vin guessed.

“Wolf-Heart-Coyote,” Ezra corrected gently. He turned back. “It seems to fit me.”

“It does,” Vin agreed before he pulled Ezra into another hug. “I am so proud of you!”


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