//------------------------------// // Prologue II // Story: Wildfire // by redactedandredacted //------------------------------// Prologue - II The night was dark amongst the Sihasapa buffalo tribe. Their tall, conical tents formed a small makeshift village at the bottom of a large cliff face. However, all was silent in the village on this particular night. All of its denizens were gathered around a fire lit pow-wow by the cliff face. They watched with excitement as their elders discussed the fate of a young and strange animal, a pony. He was brought to their tribe by one of their younglings, who had been roaming the edge of their current territory.   In the middle of the group was a hulking black buffalo, who was clearly not pleased with the direction the current proceedings were taking. When he spoke, his voice resembled a small earthquake, powerful and barely contained.   “No! It is not our way! Never before have we accepted an outsider into our tribe, let alone a youngling of another species!”   Surrounding him were nine other buffalo elders, watching his display with mixed reactions. Some appeared disappointed by his intolerance, while others fidgeted, considering his words. Another buffalo was sitting in the circle, sporting an impressive headdress. He was small but still quite muscular, and clearly was the Chief of the tribe. He waited for the black buffalo to pause, then held up a hoof and motioned for the larger one to seat himself. Though the large one clearly was indignant about this order, he complied. The Chief then stood to speak. Though he was smaller than most of his peers, it was apparent that he commanded utmost respect from his people.   “We have heard your arguments, brother Stronghead,” the Chief said with an aura of calmness and rationality, “But it seems clear to the rest of the Council that on this occasion we must put aside such traditions in the name of kindness and charity. It is what the Great Spirit would want. What would you have us do, throw this youngling back into the fire from whence he came? We have no choice but to take him in, else we condemn him to death.”   The one called Stronghead had no response to this, and dismissed himself from the circle. He grumbled continually as he left about tradition to anyone who would listen.   “Very well. If there are no others who would deny this colt a place in our tribe, then one of our families shall be his guardians. Who will be the ones to raise this young pony?”   The buffalo gathered shifted nervously, for this was a very large responsibility for one to take on. But one buffalo, who looked younger than the rest, stood up with confidence. His name was Brighteyes, and he was a vibrant sort of buffalo with a bright copper shaded coat. His title was no misnomer, for his irises were bright green, highly unusual for a buffalo.   “Chief Stonehoof, I have a small little steer of my own who is nearly the same age as this young one. I would take this pony child into my family, if it is according to the will of the Council,” he proclaimed.   “I am not opposed to this. Is there anyone here who finds that brother Brighteyes and his wife Runningbrook are unsuitable to raise this pony?” the Chief asked the assembly.   When none of them spoke up, the Chief announced, “Very well then. Wintergreen, bring forth the child. He must be blessed as one of our own.”   A young filly buffalo stepped forward with a tiny earth pony colt wrapped in a blanket that she held from her teeth. She neatly laid him down in front of the Chief, and then backed away with a bow.   The one they called Brighteyes and a female buffalo stepped forward and sat before the Chief. Evidently, she was Runningbrook, his wife. Chief Stonehoof fixed them both with a serious, but gentle gaze from his calm black eyes. Then he spoke to them.   “Brighteyes and Runningbrook, do you swear before the Great Spirit to raise this pony child, protect him, and teach him how to live in peace and harmony with his surroundings?”   The two buffalo responded as one, “Yes, we do.”   “And do you,” the Chief continued, “promise to our tribe that as his guardians, you will admit responsibility for his mistakes, until such time as he becomes an adult in our tribe?”   “Yes, we do.”   “Then you have the blessings of this council. You have the blessings of the Sihasapa. And you have the blessings of the Great Spirit, in the hopes that you may raise this foal to lead a harmonious and peaceful life as one of us.” The Chief smiled at them. “What is his name?”   “He shall be called Wildfire, for he came to us from a great wild fire.” “Wildfire! It is a good name,” Chief Stonehoof announced to the assembly, “Even as fire consumes and destroys, it brings new life. Just so, this great fire brings us the gift of a child. The Great Spirit clearly meant for this child to come to us.”   The Chief then raised both hooves to the starry night sky and prayed, “Great Spirit, we, inhabitants of your wondrous world, thank you for this gift of life. The Sihasapa buffalo promise to cherish and protect what you have brought to us. Pilamayaye.”   The rest of the Sihasapa raised their hooves and each thanked the Great Spirit, as did Brighteyes and his partner. Runningbrook picked their new foal up from his place on the ground between them, and held him close to her. The couple rejoiced that night along with their close friends, and they swore to treat Wildfire like an equal, and like one of their own.   |{WF}|     “Wintergreen, what have you done?!”   The huge black buffalo called Stronghead was seated in his tent with his daughter, the buffalo child who had rescued Wildfire from his death.   “I couldn’t just leave him, atawaye ki! This little one deserves the right to live!”   Stronghead sighed, like wind impatiently rustling through treetops, “I cannot expect you to understand. I have no wish for him to die, but giving the blessings of our Great Spirit to one of the ponykind is unheard of! We have failed our ancestors by relinquishing our traditions. He has no place among us.”   Wintergreen was indignant. “Just because he isn’t a buffalo does not mean we cannot love him.”   “One day you will understand.”   |{WF}|   Later that night in the tent of Brighteyes and Runningbrook, Wildfire lay in a woven basket, adjacent to a tiny buffalo calf. The calf, whose name was Mountainhoof, lay in a basket of his own. The couple looked down at the pair, proud. Not only because they were now the parents of two little infants, but also because they were showing to their tribe that love does not discriminate between species. The two had always been progressive amongst the other members of their tribe, and when they heard tell that a pony orphan had been brought to the camp, they had agreed they would volunteer to raise it.   “They’re just like brothers!” Brighteyes exclaimed.   “No,” said Runningbrook, placing a hoof on her husband’s shoulder, “They are brothers.”   As Wildfire and Mountainhoof lay sleeping, their hooves met between their baskets.   “You’re absolutely right, tehila.”   |{WF}| Author's Notes: Glossary The native words used occasionally in this story are translated from the Lakota language, a dialect of Sioux. Pow-wow - a meeting of the most influential members of a tribe, either to come to a decision on an issue or for a religious purpose. Pilamayaye - Thank you atawaye ki - my father Tehila - lover, or more literally, “one I love”