Before I begin, let me give you some background knowledge. I’m a teen from an Arapaho Native American family, and my great grandfather and grandfather used to tell us children stories of The Thunderbird or what they’d call it, Etcitane:bate.
Being a foolish four year old, of course I’d believe it, they told us never to wander around the forest at night for the Thunderbird would take us from our family, so obviously I obeyed.
When I was about ten or eleven, I stopped believing that the Thunderbird existed, until a few months ago. It was in the middle of July, near the end of my summer break. My friend, let’s call her Bella, was with me and our other friend, let’s just call her Ann, were in the mountains with Bella’s family at their cabin. The cabin was built on Arapaho Native American land, at the time we did this, we were all thirteen.