"Sometimes the silence speaks in words that cannot be heard by ears. The words like a warm breeze pass between us through places untouchable. We know the words but we can't hear them. Still we understand them and they pierce our hearts like a knife that can never hurt us, a knife that can heal us but only if we openly allow the speaker to push it to the hilt."

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   The two young men mounted their motorcycle still smoldering from the last run pulled out onto the road and headed West.
   With the sky darkening just a bit more, the redness of the northwest sky reflected ahead on the ocean. A rock outcropping began to appear up the coast which grew higher as they approached to more resemble a cliff. Perched at the end of the cliff, a white structure resemblant of a great needle pierced the blue black sky mirroring the red solar rays that stung the vastness of space... and at perfect intervals a diamond of light flashed from it's pinnacle... a flash that could not only blind the eye for a tiny moment but one that would illuminate the lives of two great hearts.

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   The road slowly swung to the right as they approached the long plateau that looked like a sinking ship whose stern had dropped into the deep but whose prow still stood high above the waves. The plateau juts out of the ocean on one end with granite cliffs on either side and slopes downward into the grassy plain. It seems out of place standing alone on the Alaskan prairie but geologists say it's a remnant of a former ice age. The native people call it the sacred knife that splits the ocean from the sky. Snowhawk calls it home.