I have no name, I am merely metal. I am copper, and I am silver.
I am the hunter and I am the hunted.
On my back is the cold of the kill. The piercing weapon used by native tribes.
On my front I bear the symbol on the west. The grand buffalo, engraved in silver upon the coin.
Both grudgingly embrace each other, remembering their past.
The arrow remembers how many times the buffalo evaded it, and left it's tribe hungry.
The buffalo remembers the many family members and friends that were taken by the arrow. The buffalo remembers the day of his own death.
Neither wish to be near one another in the afterlife, but they will remain as one. Always touching.
Perhaps to remind them of the destruction both of them brought upon the other.
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