2.
Green grew the grass through the black char. Tender shoots, not yet color changed and not yet tall enough to eat, marked the path of last moon’s fire. Yet in sheltered spots tall violet grasses still grew. These were the food they sought, the nourishment they needed.
Sweet Grass gazed in loving amazement at her son. In her heart she pondered the works of the god, who had provided her with this perfect, healthy child. A child that would have been abandoned by the herd because of the whiteness of his coat. Except he had not been abandoned. The god had provided a distraction in the fire. Fire, bearer of destruction, had saved her son! What mysteries the god works!
As she watched in the early morning light, he played in the blackened meadow, kicking up great clouds of ash. Running, jumping, rolling over on the ground in childish wonder.
“Come to me, Snow Moon,” she mind-cast. “It is time to continue your learning of the Dance of Ancestors.”
Out of the cloud of ash he emerged. “Look, Mama, I’m the same color as you!” he exclaimed in glee.
Surprise and thoughtfulness tinged her voice as she remarked, “Yes! Yes you are!”
Nudging him into position beside her she again began the Dance of Ancestors.
“Why do I need to know about all those people?” his impatience showing as he longed to return to his play rather than practice the long and stylized dance.
“So that when you greet new people they will know who you are and you will know who they are.”
“But there aren’t any other people.”
“Oh, my pink-nosed son, there is a whole world full of people in many herds.”
“Then why are we the only ones here?”
The moment had come that she had been dreading. How was she to explain that his ‘deformity’ had made them both outcasts from their family and friends? Delicately she began, “You are a special child, marked by the god for a special purpose. Your bright skin and red eyes make you different from the rest of the people.
“I’m special?”
“Oh yes! The streams of life that you will follow will be unlike any your ancestors have followed.”
“Will they dance a different dance for me, Mama?”
“Indeed they will! Yes indeed! Come, let’s begin again!”
The lesson repeated until it was done twice through with no errors. Then sleep over took them in what shade the fire ravaged trees could afford.
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