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It's surrounded by dozens of tall cacti, all different shades of green, some dark, and some light.

They are covered in pointy little spines. Some of them have yellow and white flowers at the ends

of their arms. Others have a round red fruit on top. These prickly bears appear vivid and bright

against the muted, earthy colors of the desert. Kaya walks toward the center of the village.

The warm morning sun shines on her skin. The bare ground crunches gently underneath her sandals,

sending an almost unnoticable cloud of dust into the air with each step.

Children giggle as they play games and run around the village. She passes a group of women

sitting in a circle. Wooden looms in their laps weave cloths and fabrics with intricate designs.

Kaya greets the women with a smile and a brief morning placentry,

passing only momentarily before continuing onto the edge of the village.

Today, Kaya is going to visit a nearby Navajo village. They call themselves

the denae people, but outsiders call them Navajo. They don't live far. In fact,

Kaya can practically see their village from here. The flat, bare desert offers an unimpeded view

for miles. She's going to visit her good friend, Doli, a girl about her own age and a member of this

Navajo village. One day, a few years back, a rare rain had refreshed the dry and dusty land.

Temporary streams weaved across the desert. These were always special moments for the local children

who would make the most of the natural water park that formed.

...