"I have a story to tell you, Little Head," my mother told me. "I know you've been wondering why your name sounds so different than everyone else's, and I'm sorry-that's my fault."
"Yeah," I agreed. "I wish I was named Big Bear, or Rushing Stream, or even Tall Mountain." It was storming outside our house, the rain smashing against the moose skin like a meteor shower through the night. I cuddled closer to Mother.
She hesitated. "Well, when you were a little baby, your father, you and I almost deserted our tribe," she said.
"Why?"
"That," a smile slightly curving her lips, "is a story for a different storm. Anyway, we had left the tribe and gone into the forest. We'd been hiking in the forest for about an hour when we heard a noise."
"What kind of noise?"

"It was sort of like 'eeep.' 'Eeeeep.'
"Your father pointed to a clearing and said, 'It's coming from over there!'
"We walked to the clearing and saw all of these bright blue and green lights, as colorful as a rainbow. The lights were dancing around like one of our ceremonies. Then we saw where the lights were coming from-a giant, shiny, silver rock! There were green men with giant heads and huge black eyes walking around. I asked your father, 'What tribe is this?'
"'I don't know,' he said. He was staring at them the whole time. The green men didn't make a noise.
"'Is that there temple?' I asked, pointing to the big rock.
"'I don't know,' he said. Then the green men looked at us. Their mouths did not move, but I heard what they were saying. They said, 'Hello, Earthlains.'
"Your father asked who were these 'Earthlains' they spoke of.
"The green man closest to us tilted his head. He said, 'Earthlains have little heads.'" My mother looked at me.
I was disappointed. "That's it?"
She nodded.
"Just another tribe telling us we have little heads?"
"Yes."
"Uggh," I groaned. The rain had stopped. I ran outside to play with Tall Mountain.