Under an alien sky comes this tale of primordial resilience, via Berkeley writer Heather Bourbeau.

It was only when the third sun rose and the heat became unbearable that she stopped.

As the ritual of sun set began, she crawled from under the grasses and climbed onto her bison — map in one hand, mane in the other. She would ride to the end of the plains and rejoin her father’s people. She would forget the brutal justice of her mother’s kin.

Already, alone, she was feeling whole once more — moving with her bison, in rhythm with the rise and fall of the suns.

She felt the scars on her legs, knew they too would heal.

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Heather Bourbeau

Heather Bourbeau

Heather Bourbeau’s fiction and poetry have been published in 100 Word Story, Alaska Quarterly Review, Cleaver, Eleven Eleven, Francis Ford Coppola Winery, The Cardiff Review, and The Stockholm Review of Literature. She is the Chapman University Flash Fiction winner and has twice been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her work has been featured in several anthologies, including America, We Call Your Name: Poems of Resistance and Resilience (Sixteen Rivers Press), and Respect: Poems About Detroit Music (Michigan State University Press). She has worked with various UN agencies, including the UN peacekeeping mission in Liberia and UNICEF Somalia.

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