Gray Wind's Thanksgiving.

They call me Gray Wind beause I run so fast. My master is Cecoyo, known as the boy who sleeps with a wolf "

Cecoyo found me as a puppy - sick, weak, and starving. My mother and sister had died of a terrible disease.

Cecoyo took me back to camp and took care of me. I have lived with Cecoyo and the Wampanoag tribe for three years. They are my family.

Last winter, strangers called Pilgrims came onto our land. They had traveled many miles across the sea. Their skin was white, and they wore peculiar clothes. They spoke strange words.

The first winter was hard for these white-faced people. They had little food, and many of them died of disease. I feared going to their camp because the smell of death was strong.

A Native American named Samoset was one of the first to speak with the Pilgrims. He had learned English from earlier explorers who had come here. He arranged a meeting between our chief, Massasoit, and the Pilgrims.

I did not like these new people at first. When they met us, I stood in front of Cecoyo and growled and showed my sharp fangs. The Pilgrims screamed at the sight of me. I would have attacked to protect my boy. But Cecoyo said no, and I obeyed.

Cecoyo said, "It is good, Gray Wind. These people will not harm us. They want to live in peace. Chief Massasoit has agreed to let them live on our land. A treaty of friendship has been signed."

I listened to Cecoyo's voice. It sounded calm. I relaxed a little, but a soft growl kept rattling in my throat.

As warmer weather came, Massasoit and the tribe showed the Pilgrims how to hunt game and plant corn and squash. The summer sun raised everyone's spirits.

I was no longer afraid of the Pilgrims. They seemed a decent people and did not cause any trouble. My boy, Cecoyo, got along with them, and that was good enough for me. But they still did not like or trust me.

Cecoyo made me stay back in the woods when he visited their camp. This I did not like. One time, I disobeyed and went up to one of the women. She screamed and beat her broom at me. Cecoyo scolded me fiercely. This was worse than staying in the woods. I never broke my boy's trust again.

As autumn passed, a new excitement filled our village. I could feel it. I could hear it in the happy talk of all the tribe.

Cecoyo explained one day. "The Pilgrims' harvest has been full, Gray Wind. They've invited us to celebrate with them. They're calling it a feast of Thanksgiving."

I heard the eagerness in my boy's voice. Surely this was a great thing.

"Come, Gray Wind. We're going fishing," Cecoyo said. "The Wampanoag will supply some of the food for this Thanksgiving feast."

I trotted along with Cecoyo and three other tribesmen. At the river, we fished beside several Pilgrims, and I had to stay away from the group. I watched the men from a distance.

Suddenly, I heard a yell. It was Cecoyo's voice. He had lost his footing on a rock. He fell heavily into the river. Cecoyo was a good swimmer, but the fast current swept him away.

I raced along the bank, watching his bobbing head. When I was close enough, I plunged in and grabbed him by the belt. The tug of the current pushed us this way and that, but I swam hard and finally reached a shallow spot. I pulled Cecoyo toward the bank.

Coughing, Cecoyo sank onto the rocks. He put his arm around my neck.

I licked Cecoyo's face. He was safe.

The men ran up and knelt beside Cecoyo. They helped him to his feet. "Thanks to Gray Wind," one of them said, "the river did not win."

I walked back with my boy and the men. Cecoyo kept me close by and did not send me away from the Pilgrims. I noticed that they talked about me excitedly and did not seem afraid.

Later, when we arrived at the Pilgrim camp, I lay down in the woods. Cecoyo motioned for me to come with him. I hesitantly got up.

"The Pilgrims have heard about your rescue, Gray Wind," said Cecoyo. "They think you're brave and loyal. They're not afraid of you anymore. They welcome you to the feast."

I walked with Cecoyo around the long tables that were set up in the clearing. No one stepped away from me. No one screamed or threw anything at me. Everyone called me by name.

Each family had brought food for the feast. The tables were heaped with turkey, venison, roast duck and goose, clams, bread, plums, corn, and squash.

As I sat beside Cecoyo, I listened to the happy, talking voices of the Pilgrims and the Native Americans. They treated each other with much respect.

Cecoyo whispered to me, "Two peoples, one feast. It is good."

Just then, a Pilgrim woman leaned over from the table bench, and with a smile, tossed me a chunk of venison. I gulped it down. Good indeed.