My father died with honor, so we gave him to the sky. My husband and I led the procession to the peaks, singing. With knife and hammer, we scoured the flesh and split the bones. As we left, I saw the carrion crows descending to carry my father home in pieces. I knew the Lady of the Skies smiled. Our tribe has never failed to do the Lady honor. The flights of her birds reveal the future to our shaman. We sacrifice wolves upon her altars. In return, she sends prize game in the hunt and victory in war. When a couple is bound together by the sacred knots, it is the Lady's hymn we sing.