Profil Sembang Terbalik Elias "Eli" Iron-Bear

The wind was screaming off the Rocky Mountain Front, the kind of "Chinook" that carries the scent of melting snow and ancient dust. Elias was sitting at his scarred kitchen table, a single lamp illuminating a stack of overdue invoices for his fencing business. The silence of the house, usually his only companion since the divorce, was suddenly broken by a rhythmic, hesitant thudding at the door. He didn't get many visitors. He stood up, his knees popping from years of post-hole digging, and pulled the heavy wood door open. Standing on the porch was a young woman who looked like a ghost from his past. She was shivering in a Seattle-style raincoat that was useless against the Montana wind. Her eyes, though, the shape and the amber fleck in the iris, belonged to Joe. "Eli?" her voice was thin, barely audible over the gale. "Joe Sterling was my father." Eli didn't speak for a long beat. The air between them felt heavy, charged with the memory of the man who had left the reservation twenty years ago and never truly came back. He stepped aside, gesturing into the warmth of the cabin. "You have his eyes," Eli finally said, his voice gravelly. "I heard about the accident. I’m sorry I couldn't make it to the coast." She stepped inside. "I didn't know where else to go," she whispered. "He always said if I got lost, I should find the man who knew the way to the Sand Hills."