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  • 20: There was a people called the Kuwapi. They were not a small band only, living from day to day upon the wide plains. They were of more account than that, though no blood bound them together as a tribe, nor even as a clan among the people. They stood apart. In the beginning they came out from among the Oglala Lakota, being those who had been cast away. It was for offenses of a sacred kind, things not spoken of lightly. These were set apart and sent out, not wholly cut off, but made to wander. In the language of the people, Kuwapi is “they follow.” So they were named, for they went after the others upon the hunting grounds, never before them. They walked where the tribe had walked and took what remained. The measure of displeasure was not hidden. Each one bore it upon his back. The scars of the whip were counted, and by that counting it was known how greatly he had offended.
  • 21: These marks were not forgotten, nor did they fade from the memory of the people. The Dakota people held the Black Hills and all the wide plains that lie about them. These the Kuwapi called the northern raiders. Sometimes the Oglala Lakota would stand against them, but not for the sake of the Kuwapi. It was done so that the hunt might continue, and that the game should not be driven away. To the east, where the grass was stronger and more plentiful, there were the Pawnee people. These were fierce in war, and the Kuwapi did not go there lightly. Many times they turned back before they had gone far. To the south along the road the whites had made were the Arapaho people, who were strong in their own country. Also there were white settlers, and the soldiers who guarded them. These did not know the Kuwapi, nor did they make distinction between one people and another.
  • 22: To the west the land held little grass. There the Cheyenne people were to be feared. And beyond, toward the northwest, the thought of the Crow people and the Blackfeet was enough to trouble the mind. So it was that the Kuwapi had little land that was easy to them. Yet in the narrow strip that remained, where the grass was poor and always changing as the Oglala Lakota moved before them, the Kuwapi hunters rode. There was a man called Takoda, and he led the hunters of the People. He brought them downwind of a herd of bison, which stood drinking at a ford where a great creek ran slow. This place was the upper vale of a stream that in later days the whites would name the Pison River. When Takoda made the sign to halt, the men stopped their horses. They tied them to the roots of dead trees that stood like old bones in the earth. Then they went forward on foot, moving low through the brush, so that they might come near without being seen.
  • 23: But the animals were not at ease. Some lifted their heads and grew restless, though no man had shown himself to them. The beasts cast no shadows upon the ground. The day had become dark, as when a low sky presses down. The great bull ceased from drinking. He stood and looked down the stream, as if he knew of danger coming. Then Takoda judged the time. He rose up from behind a shrub and sent forth his arrow. It struck a cow in the flank, but the wound was not one that brings death at once. The cow cried out. At that cry the whole herd was taken with fear and they broke into panic. The men loosed many arrows in haste, one after another, yet their aim was troubled. Some shafts went wide, and others struck but did not bring death. So the herd of bison fled together, and passed upstream into a place ringed by low hills where there were boiling springs and drifting mists. Then the hunters turned back to their horses and followed after.
  • 24: As they rode, the men were embraced by a warm fog. They held their bows ready in their hands, and looked to the left and to the right, but they could not see the animals. The world was closed about them and all things were hidden. In the midst of that hollow the herd went upward. They climbed a rise, and there the fog became thin. It broke apart, and there were places where the blue of the sky showed itself again.Then it was seen that three of the animals were apart from the others. They stood exposed upon the slope. The hunters made ready and loosed their arrows. This time the shafts went true, and one of the beasts fell. But the two that remained did not stand. They turned and ran down again into the fog, seeking the many, where there is safety. Then Takoda spoke, and the young men set upon the fallen bison and opened it with care. The flesh was cut and made ready. It was placed upon skids of wood and hide, to be drawn away behind the horses.
  • 25: Nothing was cast aside, for the People do not waste what is given. When he saw that the younger men labored well, Takoda turned from them. He rode his horse up the slope, going alone, until he came above the clouds. There the hill stood apart, rising like an island. Beneath it lay a great sea of white, and all around was a circle of other hills, holding that sea within them. It was a thing seldom seen, and it was beautiful. Takoda looked upon it, and his heart was moved. He spoke no word aloud, but within himself he gave a name to that place. He called it the Island in the Sky. After a time the herd came again out of the mist. They moved slowly, feeding upon the grass of the high place. They were watchful, yet they did not run. It was as if they knew the hunters had taken what they would take, and would not trouble the rest. But as Takoda lifted his eyes to the highest place of that hill, he saw that he was not alone.
  • 26: Nor were the animals alone. Something was there. A white man-shape sat upon the ground. It was a smooth figure with no eyes, nor mouth, nor ears. And it was not white like the men from the east who are called whites, but white like the purest snow. Its body was smooth, and it had no eyes, no mouth, and no ears. It was like a form made, but not finished. And in its hand it held a dark rod. This it put forth, as a man gives a gift. Takoda came down from his horse. He did not go quickly. He walked with care, and with respect, for he did not know what spirit he beheld. When he had come near, he reached out his hand and took hold of the rod. The figure did not move. It did not resist him. Takoda stood with the thing in his hand. He turned it, and as he did so, there came from it a flame. But it was not as other fire. It was black, and it made a low sound, like the hiss of something that lives.
  • 27: The flame was as a hollow place, the size of a man’s head, and it seemed to swallow the air. Then Takoda saw this strange fire might cut the very earth itself. He set it to the ground, and it opened the hard stone as though it were soft. After a little while the dark flame grew less, and drew back into itself, and was gone, as if it had a will. Then the arm of the white figure went down again to its side. It made no other motion. It did not turn nor give any sign of life. Takoda stood alone upon the height, holding the thing that had been given to him. And the figure remained as it was, and he never saw it move again. After a time the companions of Takoda came up to the high place. They saw the white man-shape, and they saw Takoda standing near it, with his horse beside him. In their sight Takoda lifted a great stone and set it down close by the figure. Then the others came forward and did the same. They gathered many stones and placed them one upon another, as men make a lodge, but this was of rock.
  • 28: They worked in silence and with care, for they believed the place to be holy by what had been shown to them. When the work was finished, they stepped back to look. The white shape was no longer seen. It was covered over, and a mound stood there, a cairn raised with purpose. And the men said among themselves that it was fitting, for they believed Wakan Tanka had made himself known to them upon that height, and the hunt had been blessed. So they left it there, as a lodge set apart. But Takoda alone knew what else had been given. The dark gift he kept hidden within his clothing, and he spoke of it to no man. When the People made their feast from the slain cow, the horns were taken and fastened with thongs of leather. Then one of the wives of Chief Tatanka came forward and set those horns upon his shoulder, as if he himself had gone out from the lodge and struck the animal down. So it was shown before the People. For a short time Tatanka and Takoda looked upon one another, and no honor passed in that glance.
  • 29: Then the Chief spoke, saying, “There are five tellings of how this animal was taken.” Takoda did not answer at once. He turned his face aside and sent forth a ring of smoke into the air. Then the Chief spoke again, and his words were sharp. “Speak now of the hunt. What say you, who hunts as a woman?” At this Takoda’s eyes came back quickly, as if he had been struck. He said, “We followed the herd into the hollow where the waters smoke and the air is thick. I could not see even those who rode with me. The herd led us to a lone height, and each man went up by himself. There the clouds were broken, and we took the animal.” And the one called Plenty Lice added to Takoda’s tale, saying, “The Great Spirit then came forth from the cloud and blessed the hunt.” At this the Chief looked at Takoda with hard eyes. “You have taught your hunters to speak false words with ease.” Then Plenty Lice spoke again, and he said, “Wakan Tanka had the form of a man, but he was white as snow. He sat upon the top of the mountain.”
  • 2A: And those who had gone with Takoda made a low sound of agreement. They had seen the white shape also, though not the thing that had been given. But the Chief did not soften his heart. He said, “And what did you do, when you saw this man of snow, you who speak falsely?” And Takoda said, “We built a lodge of stones for the Great Spirit, that we might honor him for what had been given.” Then Tatanka drew forth his knife and came near. He cut lightly across the cheek, so that the blood came but a little. He did not strike deeper, for he knew the true worth of the man before him, who held hunger back from the People. Then he spoke and gave a name, saying, “You shall be called Hole-in-the-Cheek.” And so he named him. Then Takoda put his hand to his face, where the blood was, and he went away from the fire with a steady step. He did not hurry, and he did not look back. Chief Tatanka laughed, but no other man joined him. His wife, Yuha, rose also and followed after him, leaving the circle of light.
  • 2B: Takoda and Yuha went to their lodge. There she sat near him and washed the wound, and bound it so the blood would cease. While she did this, his son, who was called Shy Bear, spoke and said, “Father, did you truly see the Great Spirit, or did you speak so to trouble Sad Heart Bull?” Takoda looked upon the boy, but he remained silent until Yuha had finished her work and the wound was closed. And he said, “Yuha, that which we spoke of before, now is the time.” Yuha showed that she understood, and she brought forth a pouch of leather with many colors, and things to place them upon the skin. Yuha began to mark the face of her son Shy Bear with care. Then Takoda rose and brought out a garment that was set apart. It was made from the skins of the bison, and it was adorned with feathers and many beads. Takoda held it with purpose. Shy Bear turned his head to look upon what lay in his father’s hands, and in that turning the paint was marred. Then his mother grew troubled and said, “Stand and be still, my son.”
  • 2C: Takoda placed the garment upon the boy and made it fast, while Yuha finished her work. When all was set in its place, Takoda spoke. “You will have no answers from me,” he said. Then he put the boy’s own bow into his hands, and said, “I will give you no meat.” Yuha stepped back from her son when she was quite finished, and she looked upon him in silence. Takoda said, “Until this day, I have only lent to you the name Shy Bear.” Then he opened the door of the lodge, and the night stood outside. “Go now,” he said, “into the darkness, you who have no name. Take your food for yourself, if you are able. And if you are not?” He made a small motion with his shoulders. “Perhaps, in your hunger, Wakan Tanka will send you a vision.” At these words the face of the boy was full of wonder and fear, for he had not looked for such a thing. Shy Bear looked upon his father’s face, and then his gaze followed the arm and the hand that pointed outward into the night. At last he understood, and he bowed his head
  • 2D: But he saw also his mother, and he knew her heart was not easy. She did what was required, for the thing had a form that must be kept, yet her spirit was troubled. Still, she spoke the words that are spoken: “The boy goes out from us. The man will return.” And Shy Bear heard her, and he feared that the shadow upon her face was not only sorrow, but the knowing that sometimes came to her before a thing was fulfilled. Shy Bear did not speak again. He went out into the night. There was no moon, and the darkness lay heavy upon the land. He walked upon the prairie and stumbled often, yet he did not turn back. He climbed the rim of the hollow of the smoking waters and looked behind him. The fires of the Kuwapi people were far away, shining like red stars upon the earth. When the night was deep, he came to the first rising of the mountain which his father named the Island in the Sky. He climbed it slowly, placing his feet with care, lest he fall in the darkness. And he came to the top as the night was ending.
  • 2E: When the light of morning came, the boy sat down so that his shadow fell upon the stones his father had raised. He did not move. He watched as the sun climbed slowly, and the shadow drew back little by little, until at last it no longer touched the cairn. Then, as the day went on, the shadow of the stones reached toward him in its turn. When the sun went down, Shy Bear had seen no vision from Wakan Tanka. A wind came up, and it was strong. When the light was gone, the cold entered into him. Then he gathered the dry brush that grew upon that high place. With the edge of a stone he cut it, and with the same he made a spark and kindled a fire. But the flame did not stand steady. It bent this way and that, and the smoke went in many directions, as if it did not choose one path. The boy watched this, and he took it for a sign. He believed he was called to remain upon that place, and to pass the night within the lodge of stones that his father had made for the Great Spirit.
  • 2F: So he went to the cairn and drew away some of the rocks, making an opening. Then he bent low and went inside. And there, in the dimness, he saw the white form of a man, just as his father had said, though Chief Sad Heart Bull in the camp had not believed. The boy was hungry, and the hunger pressed hard upon him. But the night had come, and it was too dark to seek the small runners of the grass. The fire he had made gave little warmth, yet he was glad for the stones that kept the wind from him. Within the cairn there was not room for him to lie at ease, so he lay upon his side and curled around the white man-shape. He took care not to touch it, for he did not know its power. In the middle of the night he was awakened by the sound of many feet running together. He rose and went out. He saw that his fire had gone low, and only the coals were left. But the wind had carried living embers down the slope, and from these a fire had begun in the brush and came to encircle the small mountain.
  • 2G: The small creatures of the land fled before it, running over the height. The boy saw them and he knew he might take one then and have meat. But the fire did not wait, and each moment lost brought danger nearer. At first Shy Bear went down toward the fire, that he might have light to see his way. Then he turned and moved toward the west, seeking a place where he might pass beyond the flames. But the boy could go no farther. Before him the earth was broken, and there was a deep cut in the land. He heard water moving over stones far below where it passed around the mountain. The darkness lay thick there, and he could not see how to cross. Behind him the fire grew, and it spread to the north, closing that way. The wind drove it, and the flames were many. Then the boy looked down into the chasm. He saw a small light, very bright, like the strongest star. It moved along the side of the slope, rising and falling, as if it ran. At times it went north, and at times it went south, yet always it climbed higher.
  • 2H: At last the light came up to the rim. Shy Bear saw that it was worn upon the head of a person, and that person was taller than he. Then a voice was heard, and it was the voice of a woman who spoke in his own tongue, as one who had always known it. She said, “Follow me, and you will live.” The woman turned, and she went back the way she had come. The boy followed after her. He did so to live, for he thought of the water below, and how he might lie within it when the fire came down. The path before them was clear, though the ground was rough. At times the young woman looked back to see if he still came behind her. As they went, the sound of the water grew less. This seemed strange to the boy, for they were drawing nearer. When at last they came to the creek, it no longer ran. It stood in small pools, one above another, like steps of water leading upward to a low opening in a wall of dark stone. Then the young woman bent herself and went within that place, passing through the water wearing knee high boots.
  • 2I: The boy did not delay, but followed after her. Inside there was a pool, and a narrow ledge of stone ringed the waters. The light that she bore upon her head filled the cave, so that he could see clearly, and he looked upon her. She was like a woman of the Kuwapi, yet taller than any he had seen. She did not seem very much older than he. The light resting upon her brow pierced the eye, and it shone steadily, and he did not know how it came. The young woman placed her hand upon her chest and spoke a name. “Vretiel,” she said. Then she looked upon him, and it was plain she waited for his name in return. The boy did not wish to seem foolish before her, so he answered, “My father once gave me the name Shy Bear, but he has taken it back, and now I have no name.” Yet this seemed to pleased her, for now she understood the path he had been set upon. He had gone out to seek a vision and would not be called back soon. Among his people it would be said that the boy tarried, and they would not go at once to seek him. 2J Then the young woman named Vretiel took from her head the light she bore and cast it into the water. It sank, and its brightness faded as it went down. Yet the water did not grow dark. Instead it gave forth a dim green glow, as if something within it had awakened. After this Vretiel went down into the pool. She turned herself and passed beneath the surface, and he saw her no more. The boy waited. He thought she must come up again, for all who live must breathe. But she did not return. Then the water began to move. It rose and spread, and it went beyond the place where it had stood before. Shy Bear knew he was kept from the fire in that cave, yet still he was not safe. The air was growing thin, and what he needed to live was being taken from him. So he did not wait longer. He chose, and he went after Vretiel, passing down into the unknown. When Shy Bear came again to the air, there was much light about him, more than in the place from which he had come.
  • 2K: Many hands reached down to him, and they lifted him from the water, for his garments were heavy and drew him under. Among those hands were the hands of Vretiel. Then he stood upon a place made smooth with worked wood, set all around a wide pool. At the outer edge there were many small lodges, and beyond these there grew a forest, green and full of life. He looked upward, and the sky was not as he had known it. It held many soft colors, and the sun had a shape that was strange to his eyes. Yet the air was cool, and the wet garments upon him brought a chill into his body, so that he began to tremble. Vretiel also was wet, yet she did not seem troubled. She took Shy Bear by the hand and led him into one of the lodges near the water. There she closed the entrance behind them, that they might not be seen in such a state. Then, without shame, as one who does not think in such ways, she removed the wet garments from him, and from herself, that they might be free of the cold.
  • 2L: Vretiel opened the door once, and the wet garments of the boy were given out to those who waited. When she moved, Shy Bear saw that her limbs were strong and well-formed, as of one who runs often and far. Then she took a narrow band, marked with signs he did not know, and set it against his body in many places, measuring him. After this she spoke through the door in words he could not understand. Within the lodge there were already garments laid out, dry and folded with care. They were of green and of dark purple, mingled together. These Vretiel put on. When she had finished, another set of such garments was given through the door. These were smaller, made to fit the boy. Seeing what was meant, and taking courage from her, he clothed himself in them. Then Shy Bear looked upon what he wore, and he saw that there was thought in it. The colors were as the forest, and the shapes broke the form of the body. A man so dressed, with his face and hands marked, might pass unseen among the trees.
  • 2L: Vretiel opened the door once, and the wet garments of the boy were given out to those who waited. When she moved, Shy Bear saw that her limbs were strong and well-formed, as of one who runs often and far. Then she took a narrow band, marked with signs he did not know, and set it against his body in many places, measuring him. After this she spoke through the door in words he could not understand. Within the lodge there were already garments laid out, dry and folded with care. They were of green and of dark purple, mingled together. These Vretiel put on. When she had finished, another set of such garments was given through the door. These were smaller, made to fit the boy. Seeing what was meant, and taking courage from her, he clothed himself in them. Then Shy Bear looked upon what he wore, and he saw that there was thought in it. The colors were as the forest, and the shapes broke the form of the body. A man or woman so dressed, with face and hands suitably marked, might pass unseen among the trees.
  • 2M: Then Shy Bear looked again toward the water, and he saw another woman standing there. She was clothed in gold and white. She spoke, and her voice carried clearly. “Welcome to you, Shy Bear of the Kuwapi. I am called Gabriela. All that you see here is the lodge of Wakan Tanka.” Shy Bear knew he was called to answer, and he said, “Why have I come to this place, Lady Gabriela?” The woman said, “Here my daughter Vretiel shall teach you the speech of the white-skinned people, if you are willing. When you return, you may teach your own people this tongue.” But hearing this Shy Bear was troubled. “If I return speaking as the whites speak the People will be afraid. They will beat me, and perhaps they will kill me. They will say I am Coyote come in the shape of a man.” So he said, and he did not hide his fear. Gabriela answered him, and her voice was steady. “Do not let your heart be troubled by these things, Shy Bear. Wakan Tanka has already placed into the hands of your father that which will keep you from harm.
  • 2N: When you return he will rise up and be chief among your people.” Shy Bear listened, yet he did not set aside his doubt. He asked Gabriela, “Why must these things come to pass?” She said, “There is a time drawing near. In three winters, a band of white wanderers will meet the Kuwapi. They are led by a man called Joshua Lange. This man will first be brought to this place even as you have been brought, and will see him with your own eyes. Gabriela went on to say, “These people are strong in their will. Some say they are proud, and do not easily turn from their own ways. They look upon the people of the grass as children who do not know the path. But you are much more than they think. You will show this not by receiving their tongue from them, but by taking it for yourself. They do not believe they have anything to learn from you. Yet it has been set down that you shall teach. For Wakan Tanka has ordained that these people, and my house, and your own, shall come together and live as one people, in peace.”
  • 2O: Shy Bear had seen many things that were beyond his knowing, and now his heart was drawn to that other world. He desired to remain, and to look upon many more wonders. But the thought of his father Takoda and of his mother, Yuha was stronger in him. So he turned again to Gabriela and said, “I will return. I will do as you have said, and teach the People the speech of the whites.” Gabriela was pleased, and she smiled. “It is good,” she said. “You shall no longer be called Shy Bear. Now you shall be called Jashen. When you have learned, and when you go again to your people, this shall be your name as a man.” The boy heard this, and he said, “If I remain here long, my father and my mother will think me dead.” Gabriela answered him, “Do not let your thoughts dwell on that. However long you stay in this place, when you return it will seem to them that only a short time has passed, not more than the turning of one moon. In time you will understand how this is done, and you will see that it is not really magic.”
  • 2P: But Shy Bear said, “To me it would always be strong magic, Gabriela.” Then she said, “When I teach, that which is called great magic becomes small, and that which is called small magic is no longer called magic at all.” The pool from which Jashen had come was fed by a stream that passed beneath a great house made of stone and wood, with clear shining walls, and it stood over the water as a bridge stands. Upon the top of this house was an open place. There Vretiel showed Shy Bear a device that was set toward the sky. She said, “The people you call the whites have such as this.” He looked, and he saw far beyond what his eyes could see alone. The land rose and bent, as if it turned to meet the sky. He saw places where many people dwelt together, and the courses of rivers, and the spread of forests. He saw also a great water, which she called Mori, and the tops of the clouds that moved above all these things. Then Vretiel spoke to him of the Song of Remembrance, which she had written down upon many skins.
  • 2Q: She recited it before him again and again in the speech she was teaching him. But once Jashen stopped her, for something in his mind would not rest. He said, “Were you truly that running girl?” For though he had seen many strange things, still it was hard for him to believe that she could run swifter than the pronghorn of the plains. Vretiel said to him that he should bring his bow. Then she took him by the hand and led him out from the place of the water, and through the trees, until they came to a wide and level ground. There she went apart from him, standing many paces away. Then she spoke in the tongue she was teaching him. “Shoot an arrow at me.” At this the boy cried out in protest, for he thought she made sport of him and wasted his time. But she answered him again, saying, “I speak truly. Do your best. Try to strike me down.” So he set an arrow to the string. Yet he did not aim to kill her, but sent it a little above her. Then Vretiel moved. Her body sprang as if it had been released from a cord.
  • 2R: She ran backward across the open ground, and her speed was greater than that of the arrow in its flight. The shaft fell to the earth and did her no harm. And she did not stop. Even as she ran, she turned, and passed into the trees at the far edge of the clearing. In a moment she was gone from sight. And the boy stood where he was, filled with wonder at what he had seen. In a glade among the trees, Vretiel came upon her mother, who sat upon a fallen log. With her was another young man of the Kuwapi, and Gabriela spoke his name, calling him Coyote Cub.Vretiel had run swiftly, and now the hunger came upon her. The young man reached into a dark bag and brought forth many small loaves, still warm, and he gave them to her. She ate eagerly. As she did so, she said to him, “Whoever you are, you have the making of one who will be dear to me, as a close companion.” The young man named Coyote Cub smiled and answered in a light way, “I hope it shall be so, grandmother. It would trouble my heart if it were not.”
  • 2S: At this Vretiel paused, and she looked upon him with surprise. “Grandmother?” she made query. “It is as he says,” answered Gabriela, and there was knowing in her voice. “Before this day you could speak in jest, as men often do, and say you were not certain you had any children. But now you see such words are not yours to speak.” Vretiel considered this, and she said, “I know what you have set in motion here, dear mother, and I do not turn from it. I can think upon a lifetime spent with Jashen, and it does not displease me. Yet I believe he does not hold me in his thoughts in the same way.” Gabriela said, “That is why you are set near to one another, and time is given. What is to grow will grow.” “It is not as I hoped,” said Vretiel. “We have come as far as the council of rulers in the Song of Remembrance, yet Jashen grows more distant from me, not nearer.” Gabriela answered her, “His spirit is as one who is carried in deep water. From the moment he followed you, he has not stood upon ground that he knows.
  • 2T: “He depends upon us for his food, his clothing, even the path of his return. So he does not feel as a man among his own people, who walk by their own will.” Then Coyote Cub spoke and said, “It is the same with Remiel, as I see it now. And I remember well how it was when I first came into this place.” Vretiel said, “But I went to Earth and brought him forth. How different can Kemen be?” Gabriela looked upon her and said, “You were there only for a short time, and in the dark. You did not see that world as it is. It is far greater than this one. And the land does not rise up to hide the stars.” In her lodge Yuha wept in a quiet way, and many days passed thus. Takoda sat near her and spoke what comfort he could, yet there was little a man could say. At last she spoke, and her voice was worn. “Almost a full moon has gone since we saw our son. Has this going out for a vision ever been so long?” Takoda answered her plainly. “I will not speak falsely to you. When I went out, it was ten nights, and no more.”
  • 2U: When Yuha heard this, her grief came upon her without measure, and she could not hold it back. Takoda sat with her and endured it, hoping she would not set her sorrow against him, though he knew she might. In his heart he knew there had been no other path. The Kuwapi were already cast out from among the Oglala Lakota. If he had denied the boy this trial, the boy would have stood outside even among the Kuwapi. He would have remained a child in the sight of all, and his spirit would have turned bitter against his father. After a time Yuha grew more still, though the sorrow remained in her. She said, “The last thing our son saw was that even his mother’s heart was as stone.” Takoda answered, “A heart of stone is part of what must be done. There must be a cutting away. It cannot be made soft. This has always been the way among the People.” So he spoke, though the words did not ease her. Now Takoda remembered how his son called the chief Sad Heart Bull in mockery, and he could not wholly deny the truth of it.
  • 2V: For Chief Tatanka laid daily burdens upon him, small and great, until even Takoda’s patience was strained near to breaking. This day was no different. Without warning, Tatanka entered the lodge. He did not wait for invitation. He pointed at Takoda and spoke in anger. “You have brought no meat into camp for a full moon, Hole-in-Cheek.” Takoda answered him calmly. “The fire still burns to the south. It has driven the herds away.” “Then go around it,” said Tatanka, “or I will name you Hole-in-Neck.” Takoda said, “It will take two days to reach where the animals now are, then another day to take them, and prepare them. Then two days to return. By then the meat will spoil.” “The nights are cold,” Tatanka said. “It will not spoil. I am weary of dried meat. Go.” Before he left, Tatanka’s eyes passed over Yuha, and lingered. She saw it. Without a word she drew the blanket of bison hair closer about her, and covered herself from his gaze. When Tatanka departed, Takoda went alone to where his belongings were kept.
  • 2W: From a hidden place he brought forth the thing he had shown to no living person, not even Yuha. He set it in his raiment that it could not be seen. This he did quietly, for he knew that while he was away upon the hunt, nothing would restrain Tatanka from entering any lodge and taking what he wished. Then Takoda and his hunters made ready. They saddled their horses and gathered what remained of the dried meat belonging to the People, for their stores were now small. Takoda mounted his own horse, Kaleetan, and for a moment he considered how it was that the horse had been given a true name, while his own son had been sent into the night without one. The burning grasslands lay far off, even when seen from the height of the Island in the Sky. Yet Takoda led the band south toward that place, that they might look upon the hurt on the Earth, and see, too, if the cairn raised for Wakan Tanka had been disturbed. They crossed the line where the grass was yet black and dead, as though the land itself had been struck.
  • 2X: Then they climbed once more to the Island in the Sky. When they reached the summit, they saw that all had been burned. The stone and earth were darkened as by great fire. And there, upon the high place, Takoda saw his son. Shy Bear was alive, and he was moving among the stones, setting them back into their place, as though restoring what had once been taken away. Takoda saw that Shy Bear still wore the garments his mother had made for him, but they were changed in a way that was not of the Kuwapi. They were fitted close, and covered with many beads of bright color, worked with great skill, though not by the hands of the People. Still, there was something in them that answered to the old ways. Beside him stood one like a young woman of their own kind, yet she stood taller than any among them, even more than the tallest men, and the people of the plains are not small. Before the cairn was closed again, Takoda saw within it the white form, still seated as before, unmoving, as if it had never known breath.
  • 2Y: And upon that blackened summit there walked a single bison, newly arrived from Kemen, even as Jashen and Vretiel. It moved slowly over the burned ground as if searching for some green thing that might yet remain. Takoda looked long upon the face of his son. It seemed to him the boy had grown beyond the time he had been gone, as if more days had passed for him than for those who remained. This was a strange thing. But the sight of him overcame all thought. Takoda forgot his harsh words, and the taking away of the name, and the sending out into the night. “Shy Bear!” he cried, and went forward to embrace him. Yet Jashen did not receive him so. He stood firm, and stayed his father where he was, no less than a single pace away. “You forget yourself, my father,” he said. “I am no longer called Shy Bear. The name of my manhood is Jashen. I have come back, and I bring with me my wife, Vretiel.” He spoke further and said, “Wakan Tanka has commanded that we return to the People and dwell among them for a time.”
  • 2Z: “Yet there shall be much going and coming between this place and his lodge in the other world,” said Vretiel. Then Jashen’s wife stepped forward. She bowed her head to Jashen’s father with respect and continued to speak in the tongue of the People. “I greet you, Takoda,” she said. “My mother, Gabriela Haivri, bears hope in her heart that the Kuwapi shall ever dwell near this place, and that it may be well with them.” So she spoke, but there was disquiet among the hunters. And Takoda also found fault with Vretiel’s words. He said, “The People must follow the herds or we will perish. I cannot believe Wakan