The Raindancers by Den Dotson

Joe felt the weather changing in his bones; the fading sunlight backlit boiling grey clouds. They would be riding in a steady rain by morning. The misery of driving their horses through mud would do his students good. He feared becoming soft and lenient in his old age. He wouldn’t be doing these kids any favors by going easy on them.

Joe dug in his saddlebags for his book. He found a piece of his old life instead. The artifact was a small leather pouch his partner used to carry on his belt. Symbols had been burned into the surface, after years of use and abuse, the writing made a light pattern in the soft hide. The small bag had been a gift given to remind Joe of their friendship now lost. Joe ran his fingers over the script; the sensation of touching the leather stirred his memory. He brought the memento to his nose and tried to smell the past. He had brought his students here to the plains of Allaway to train where the desert, the mountains, and the prairie came together. He thought he could live with the memories living in this place. He might have been wrong.