Chief Thunderhooves had been truly blessed in life when he became the one thing he had wanted to be more than anything else: A father. He’d taken in a stray caff that he’d found abandoned near the tribe he was the chief of, and had taken her in and raised her to the best of his ability. He’d soon taken to calling this calf Little Strongheart, and since there weren’t really any buffalo caretakers he’d often played a direct role in her development.
Eventually, it came time to begin teaching Little Strongheart about the traditions of the tribe she’d been adopted into. Traditions were everything to the buffalo and it was imperative that all buffalo within the tribe do the traditions properly.
One of the first traditions was how all buffalo “answered the call of nature” as it was known. Given that they lived out in the wilderness and thus were far from any civilization (not that any civilization would necessarily welcome or accommodate them), they had no access to any form of indoor plumbing. And chamber pots were inefficient given that no one made pots big enough and strong enough to handle a full grown buffalo’s weight. So there was really only one option available. The buffalo dug deep holes to serve as trenches, and would build special tents so that all could identify the trenches without accidentally stumbling into them.
Little Strongheart was understandably nervous about the whole prospect, but knew she had to learn it if she wanted to stay part of the tribe to which she belonged.
“Do not worry, Little Strongheart,” Chief Thunderhooves reassured his daughter as he held her by the hoof. “Trench usage is easy and efficient. It is a tradition that has dated back for generations among our tribe, including my father before me, his father before his, his father before his, his father before his and his father before his to name a few.”
Little Strongheart nervously replied. “Yes, Father.”
Chief Thunderhooves smiled as he led his daughter into one of the unoccupied trench tents. Once inside of it, both could see a big, empty space at the back of the tent that was clearly meant for one purpose. “Simply stand over the opening, and let nature do the rest.” The big buffalo instructed. It was really quite simple.
So Little Strongheart stumbled over to the trench. She wasn’t sure how far down it went, but it looked deep enough to give her reason to believe she’d never get back out if she fell down it. That probably wasn’t a problem for fully grown buffalo though. Reluctantly, she swallowed hard and stepped into what she assumed was the proper position, taking several deep breaths while doing so.
Thunderhooves kept a careful but respectful watch as he waited for his daughter to do what needed to be done. Using trenches was only one part of the tradition, after all.
At last, a powerful and familiar smell reached the nostrils of both buffalo. And that meant only one thing.
“You are done, correct?” Thunderhooves asked his daughter, who nodded very slowly in approval and confirmation. “Very good. You have completed the first part of this very important tradition. You needn’t worry about the trench now. Now you must focus on getting cleaned up. Follow me.”
Little Strongheart obeyed with little hesitation as she was led out of the trench tent, far away from the tribe’s camp. She followed her father for what seemed like miles, until finally they came to a stop near a small creek flowing out towards some unknown civilization. It wasn’t another buffalo tribe though, because there were lights in the distance that were not natural.
Thunderhooves took the liberty of describing the second part of the tradition, the part even more important than proper use of the trench. “Now you must clean yourself. This stream shall suffice. Let its waters cleanse you and leave you pure and refreshed,” He then advised. “Be careful not to stray out too far, or the current shall sweep you away. It can be quite powerful, it is not to be underestimated.”
The young buffalo stepped forward a bit as her hooves began to touch the floor of the stream.
Slowly, she kneeled down to let the stream’s cleansing waters reach her fur to clean her up. It was quite a sensation to experience. It felt peaceful and blissful. Like anything and everything impure about her was being carried away, leaving her whole and refreshed.
Chief Thunderhooves smiled once his daughter came slowly trotting back. “Excellent job, Little Strongheart. And now that you know the tradition you will be expected to do it again as needed, even without my help.”
Little Strongheart smiled, before looking out towards the strange lights in the distance and asking. “What are those, Father?”
“Those are the lights of a civilization we do not associate with,” Chief Thunderhooves sternly declared with a frown. “They have built themselves upon the grounds that once belonged to our tribe for numerous traditions we can’t do anywhere else. It is forbidden for us to make any contact with them, even by accident.”
“Then why not use a stream that’s farther from them, or move to somewhere they don’t occupy?” Little Strongheart wondered.
Chief Thunderhooves somberly replied. “Because we have nowhere else to go, and there are no other streams around us. This is the only place we have left to preserve our traditions, like the one you just completed, Little Strongheart.”
The young buffalo was satisfied with that answer for the time being. She thought nothing about it for several years. She was proud to carry on the traditions of her tribe, and she soon had the tradition for “answering the call of nature” down almost pat.
Yet as she grew older, Little Strongheart began to wonder if what she’d been told about that civilization beyond the stream was entirely true. She kept these thoughts to herself, but she began to wonder what would happen if she were to “accidentally” wander into their land from the stream.