Navapache Princess

High up in the Northeastern corner of New Mexico, hidden among the scrub cedar hills and valleys, sat the small Indian community of the Navapache. Remnants of the long March of Relocation by the US Government, from Arizona to Fort Sumner New Mexico in 1864.

Filled with pride and courage, several individuals escaped this March to forced captivity, and hid in the hills, to later form the smallest Reservation in the West.

One of their members, a Brave named Dasan, was a Silversmith.
His father, The Old Smith, learned the trade from a Mexican Smith, and had passed down the jewelry making legacy.

Only now, on the run and hidden in these sparse hills, Dasan had nothing with which to ply his trade.
No Mexican coins or candlesticks to melt down, no equipment. He had to run with only what he could carry.
And run he did.

Though Dasan was not entirely without treasure. Taking off his Deerskin, which he had worn inside out, revealed the many pieces of Skystone adorning the garment. That Turquoise, which his Father had told him were pieces of the Sky, could be traded for equipment and goods.
The Zuni had even paid his Father one good horse for his knowledge in jewelry making, and Dasan was certainly very skilled.

The question was…where??
Where would he go to ply his trade? This Territory was vast, and unknown to him. And he was being hunted.

Dasan cupped the largest of the precious stones in his hand.
He looked up. and sang a soft song of praise, lifting his heart to The Sky Spirit Herself.
And then he asked…

In which direction shall I start?