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Falling Rocks and the Spirits of the Sky1,066 words
Falling Rocks and the Blinding Sun654 words
Falling Rocks and the Greedy Ponies1,162 words

Falling Rocks and the Greedy Ponies

Long ago, the buffalo owned all the lands as far as the eye could see. They roamed free over the country, and stampeded where they chose. In those days, the Great Chief Smoking Mountain guided the buffalo, and the great brave Falling Rocks saved them from snow and sun.

One day, a pony came to the buffalo, and told them that the ponies wanted to build farms on the plains. The great chief told him that the lands belonged to all the people, to stampede wherever they pleased, but the pony said that was no good, for they would crush their crops and their people would starve. The great chief told him that the buffalo would not leave, but he would not listen, and so for a third time Great Chief Smoking Mountain gathered his people so that he could speak.

“The ponies do not respect the ways of the land or our people. They say our land is their land, and that we can no longer stampede. We must fight.”

The buffalo stamped their hooves, and cheered, but Falling Rocks felt only sorrow in his heart.

“We cannot fight alone,” Falling Rocks said. “I have been to their cities and I have seen their numbers, and they are as many as the grass on the plains.”

“But we cannot give them our land,” the great chief said.

“I do not say we should give them our land,” Falling Rocks replied. “The people have many friends, and we may speak to them, and ask them to stand beside us, so that the ponies know that the cost is too great, and none have to fight.”

“Then go,” said the great chief, “and ask our friends to help us, as we have helped them.”

And so Falling Rocks went to the cattle, because they had great sharp horns just as the buffalo did.

“Cows and Bulls,” he said, “we have long been friends. You have stood by as we have stampeded across the plains for many generations. We ask for you now to come stand by us, so that we may keep the plains from the ponies.”

The cows spoke amongst themselves before their chief stepped forward. “We have long been the friends of the buffalo, but the ponies give us all the hay that we can eat. We are sorry, but we cannot help you.”

And Falling Rocks looked upon the cattle, and he felt sorrow, for he could see they had become fat and lazy eating so much hay, and could no longer fight. So Falling Rocks returned to his people, and told them of what he had seen.

“The cattle will not help us,” he said.

“Then they are no friends of ours,” the buffalo cried, and while some would deny it, all knew in their hearts it was true.

“So who will help us, then?” asked the Great Chief Smoking Mountain.

“I will go speak to the donkeys, for they are strong, and can carry many things.”

And so he did, travelling to the donkeys where they lived in their swamp. And Falling Rocks called the people together, so that he could speak.

“Donkeys,” he said, “we have long been friends. You have lived in the swamp and as we have lived on the plains. Today our home is threatened, and we ask that you may stand by us so that the ponies do not sweep us away.”

The donkeys spoke amongst themselves before their chief stepped forward. “We have long been the friends of the buffalo, but the ponies give us shiny things so that we may pull their wagons. We are sorry, but we cannot help you.”

And Falling Rocks looked upon the donkeys, and he felt sorrow, for he could see they had become stupid and swaybacked pulling the wagons, and could no longer fight. So Falling Rocks returned to his people, and told them of what he had seen.

“The donkeys will not help us,” he said.

“Then they are no friends of ours,” the buffalo cried, and while some would deny it, all knew in their hearts it was true.

“So who will help us, then?” asked the Great Chief Smoking Mountain.

“I will go speak to the caribou.”

There was much commotion amongst the buffalo. “They are too far,” one said, “far beyond the mountains. If you go, you will never return.”

“I will return,” said the brave. “The caribou are fierce warriors, and we have never done them wrong. They will help us.”

“Then go,” said the great chief, “and return with help.”

And so Falling Rocks went to the north, far away to the mountains, as the buffalo waited. Summer turned to fall, and fall to winter, but still, he did not return.

“It is too cold,” said the buffalo. “He will come in the spring.”

But spring came, and Falling Rocks did not return, but the ponies did.

“This land is our land,” they said, and the Great Chief Smoking Mountain knew that it was true, for they were as many as the grass on the plains.

“We will fight!” said the buffalo, but the Great Chief walked before them.

“We cannot fight,” Great Chief Smoking Mountain said. “They are too many, and we are too few. We would lose, and then we would have nothing.”

“But where will we go?” cried the people.

“We will go to the south, where the ponies do not want,” the Great Chief said.

“But what of Falling Rocks?” asked the buffalo. “Surely he will return with the caribou, and we will fight.”

“You are right,” Great Chief Smoking Mountain said. “But he is lost, and needs help to find his way home.”

And so the great chief spoke to the ponies, and he made a deal, that the buffalo would leave in peace if only the ponies would aid them in the search for one of their own. For many moons, buffalo and pony searched, throughout all the mountains of the land, but they could not find the buffalo brave. Finally, they agreed; they would warn all travelers to seek out the buffalo brave and, if they found him, aid him on his way back home.

And that is how the buffalo came to live in the lands of the south, far away from their ancient home. Long have the people yearned for the return of their hero, so that they may stampede across the Great Plains once more. And while the ponies have forgotten the bargain they made, believing the lands to have been forever empty before they were claimed, they still remember to leave notice on all the mountains and high places of the lands to keep an eye out for the the lost brave. The signs rest on every trail, and even up the Sacred Mountain upon which they built their great city, so long ago. Many see the signs, but few remember what they mean.

Watch for Falling Rocks.

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