The Day Of My Quest: Personal Narrative: Vision Quest

Vision Quest
It was the morning of my vision quest, everyone has been anticipating this except for me. When I walked out of my tepee I felt my hair rise sharply as the cold gust of wind-swept dust off the land. Then everyone blurted out in excitement, their faces had the same expression, eyes squinted, almost blind with joy, their smiles encompassed their faces. They made swift movements as they danced and chanted, they were about to see me off. I didn’t see the point in this, none of this seemed exciting to me. I was dreading the moment I would eventually enter the forest and make my way to the sacred area, and wait until I had a vision of what I was to become. I was accepting that I would most likely die on this quest, so all the happiness
I felt a movement from my stomach up to my throat, like my insides were trying to escape me. Directly after that my throat dried and I tried to swallow my spit but nothing would happen, my mind panicked shortly and I tried to gulp again, but it just wouldn’t happen. I quickly took a breath because I almost forgot to since I was so focused on gulping. My panic started spreading from my mind to the rest of my body, so before I exerted my panic I decided to rush to where I was going instead of staying still. I walked toward the large tepee with a dotted ring of red and blue going around the base, and crude drawings of horses, deer and small men who were made of sticks holding bows and arrows. It was my mother and father’s tepee, my mother, of course, was the one who had decorated it. She did it against my father’s wishes, of which he thought she could have done more useful things with her time rather than paint. But she did it, either way, the strokes and colors were losing their vividness, I remember sitting with my mother in the evenings where she was either painting new things around the tepee or repainting faded works of hers. I had always been infatuated with painting, in fact, I wanted to paint for a while. But I was told that the only paint that should ever touch a man’s hand should be
My heart began to pound and my throat dried up again, I squinted my eyes as if to fake that I was sleeping. Then I felt a cold snout press against my temple, the wolf sniffled and sneezed on me. My body flinched, and the wolf in surprise recoiled and snarled, at this point, my mirage had been figured out and the wolf was about to take me out. So in retaliation I opened up my eyes and clumsily stood up against the tree, my hands and body were shaking and my mind was clouded with several thoughts, but I was being too slow. I watched helplessly as the wolf pounced on me, dug his teeth into my shoulder and dragged me to the forest floor. I felt the blood flood out of me as the wolf wrestled my body, I couldn’t say a word or move my body, I felt like I was paralyzed. The kept on thrashing me around, there was nothing I could do, but I wasn’t accepting death just yet, I balled up my fists and assaulted his head with futile punches. The wolf didn’t care, it kept at me, then suddenly the pressure on my shoulder was released, I felt a wave of relief over my body as the wolf released my shoulder, but I still couldn’t move. But the break was over the wolf had pounced on me again and took a hold of my leg and began to drag me away from my tree. The pain was so excruciating I was wincing with pain and was begging for my mouth to open so that I could scream for help. But