White Buffalo

Entry for a contest; my own version of a well-known Native American myth, the Legend of the White Buffalo Woman.

I sighed, watching the sun cast it’s light down upon the dry earth as it started to rise. Food was scarce now, at the peak of summer, and all were hungry. The heat was suffocating as we camped together, hot and sweaty under the bare sun. It was early morning now, and most were still in restless sleep, though I had already woken myself up.

Standing Hollow Horn had chosen my companion and I to go out and hunt before the sun rose, in hopes of catching game. For the long months we had been here our chief had done this, and it proved at least successful enough to keep us alive.
My partner's eyes glowed from amidst his sun-darkened skin as he approached me, lifting a hand in greeting. I matched his smile with one of my own and stood from my crouching position.

As we left camp, the dogs began to lift their heads at the noise we were making and yawned, though they were just as quick to return to their sleep.

We set out across the plain, only accompanied by the song of the waking birds.

After a while of walking, the day began to grow warmer as the sun fully came above the horizon. Crickets chirruped in the tall grass, bending in the slight wind, and prairie dogs darted into their holes as we approached, but there was no real game to be seen in any direction.

Looking over to the other young man, I gestured to a small hill before us, where we could see further across the vast expanse of prairie.

The sun, as we reached the top, forced us to shield our eyes as we scanned the distance. The monotonous shades of brown and tan was mostly unbroken, and just the quickest glance across the landscape revealed no game that would sustain our tribe.

After my first examination, something bright in the corner of my vision caught my eye, and I turned once more.
What I saw, coming out of the growing haze, seemed to go about upright, on two legs, not four.

“What is it, Wren?”
The voice came from my side as response to my light touching of his arm. I pointed wordlessly to the figure before us.

By now, I could discern the shape of a woman, dressed in white buckskin.

Details became clearer as she came towards us, and it occurred to me that she wasn’t walking, as I had thought, but floating.

I could see that the buckskin was intricately decorated with sacred designs, in vibrantly colored quills of porcupine. A bundle was carried with her, a fan of fragrant sage leaves held lightly in her hand. Her hair, inky black as a raven’s feathers, was loose across her back, save for a single strand, which was tied with fur of a buffalo. The strange woman’s eyes were filled with light and power, and I realized vaguely that my friend was as transfixed as I was.

“What a woman!”
The words were spoken sideways towards me, and pulled be out of my awe-struck thoughts.

“You fool,” I spat. “This woman is holy.”

Before he could reply to my insult, the woman raised her hand slightly, in greeting.

He needed no second invitation. I watched silently from my place on the hill as he reached for her, before my vision was obscured by a great, smoking cloud. By the time I had recovered my breath from gagging at the foul scent of burnt flesh, it had lifted, and the woman stood alone once more.

Bones, piled one on top of another, lay at her feet, snakes laying amongst them.

Her face turned to meet my gaze, and for a reason I could not explain, I felt no fear of this woman.

“I am coming to your people with good things, and a message from Tatanka Oyate for your people. Return to your Chief, and tell him of what you have seen here. Tell him to prepare a medicine lodge, made with twenty-four poles, and prepare for my coming.”
~~

I was near doubled-over, gasping for breath, as I returned to my camp. A small crowd of people had already gathered at the commotion as I wearily went, searching for Standing Hollow Horn in the camp.
When I finally found him, I quickly explained what had conspired on the prairies that morning, and that the woman was coming.

Amidst orders for preparations, I made my way through the excited people and to the edge of camp once more, the eager whispers following my footsteps
~
Four days, and the excitement of the people had gone down considerably. Earnestness fell back into hunger, and we became more and more conscious of our predicament.

It was noon on that fourth day when the scouts reported a strange sighting on the prairie.

Time seemed to fly past, and within what seemed to me as a few seconds, the woman was in the great tipi, walking about the interior slowly. Her instructions made no sense to me; to place an altar in the center of the area, described in meticulous detail. Her requests were followed quickly and willingly.

Pausing in the west of the tipi, before Standing Hollow Horn, she held her bundle forward with both hands.

She unrolled the leather bundle and withdrew a pipe, grasping the stem with one hand, and the bowl with another. Without warning, her voice came out again, instructing.

“With this pipe you will walk about the earth, which is your mother and provider. The earth is sacred, as is every step taken on her surface. The bowl of the pipe is of red stone; it is the earth…”

Words went on, and I fount myself lost in her voice, though my Chief’s focus remained on the words themselves. I watched as she prepared and lit the pipe, slowly describing the processes as she proceeded. Hours passed, and yet the seemed like no more than a few short minutes.

She was ending her words by the time I managed to concentrate on them.

“…all of you are joined as one family, and you will be reminded of this knowledge when you smoke the pipe. Treat this pipe, and the earth, with respect, and your people will prosper.”

The woman made as if to depart, but then she turned once more and spoke to Standing Hollow Horn again.

“This pipe will carry you to the end. I depart now, but I will look upon your people in every age, and at the end, I will return.”

Now she walked slowly around the lodge again, in a sunwise direction. A silence born of awe covered the area. Even the hungry young children watched her as she went, their eyes alive with wonder.

She left then, after making the circle around, though after she had gone a short distance, she faced us again, lying down on the grass.

I still believe that my eyes deceived my on that day, for when she stood there was no longer a woman, adorned in buffalo skins, but one herself, a young black calf.

The actions repeated themselves, and the second time she stood the black had turned to brown, grass clinging to the fur from the rolling.

The silence still reigned as she rolled again, brown making way for red.

A final time. Now, as she stood, a white buffalo calf, she looked back to us, and for a moment of wonder I felt as if her dark gaze met mine. A shudder went down my spine at the piercing gaze, and her final words came whispering back into my mind.

I will return.

She went, until she was no more than a bright speck in the distant prairie. The calf stopped, barely visible at this point, bowed deeply to the four directions of the earth, and disappeared over the hill.