Last Song
[This short story is taken from my most popular series, Tracy and Wolf. Here Wolf, a half Blackfoot brave is hunting with his own wolves and finds a mystery in the forest.]
It was the beginning of winter, and the snows had not yet begun to fall, as Wolf strode through the mountains. Grrrrrr and the pack walked with him as always, alert for the sound of game.
Faintly to his right he heard the soft chanting of the death song, and as he glanced over, he saw two old men, one Blackfoot, the other obviously not, sitting facing each other cross-legged on the bare ground, chanting the last song either would ever hear.
Curiosity got the better of him, and he sat legs crossed on the ground in front of them and patiently waited. It was many hours before they noticed his presence, but finally the old Blackfoot looked up and said, "What is it that troubles you so my son?"
Wolf looked embarrassed, but spoke what was on his mind. "Father," he said quietly, "He is not of the way."
Misted old eyes looked deeply into Wolf's own eyes and he saw a flash of anger, followed immediately by amusement.
"Listen to my words." The old voice croaked, "There is much for you to learn young one. Many, many years ago this man, my brother, saved my life. I looked upon him, his strange skin, his blue eyes, his straw coloured hair, and I thought, 'This is my brother, but how can this be? He is not of the way. The Great Spirit cannot see him.' For many moons this confused me, and it was hard for me to accept him as my brother, until one night the Great Spirit whispered these words to me in my dreams. 'The way is in our hearts, not our skins. Think you that the wolf cares what colour eyes it sees through, or just that it can see? I have given you a brother, what a small matter his birth. Stand up from this dream and say to him "My brother. What shall we do today?"' and to this day, that is what I have done."
"We have ridden the winds on the wild plains ponies, hunted the bear with our knives and our wits. Each of us has rejoiced as the other was wed, and each has been there as our sons were born. We have held each other when our wives died of the great fever, and pretended not to see our tears, and we have danced around the fire and given their spirits back to the Great Spirit together."
"To this day I thank the Great Spirit, for he could not have given me a better brother. Now we prepare for our last journey, together." The old man smiled, and he and his brother began to chant once again.
Wolf was forgotten again, and he quietly stood and slipped from the forest glade where the two sat, and as he walked back down the mountain, the soft sound of the brother's death chant followed him, and gave him a sense of peace that he had never felt before.
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Two days later Wolf returned, and built two high platforms side by side to lay the frail bodies upon. Then he left the two brothers alone once more.
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It was a year before Tracy and himself passed that way again, and Wolf was surprised to see that neither brother had been touched by crow or wolf, and a climbing rose of a type he had never seen in the mountains before, had grown and entwined around both of the platforms, joining them together.
Tracy asked who they were, and he simply said "Two Blackfoot braves."
Just as they were about to leave Wolf noticed sitting together two of the oldest wolves he had ever seen before. They sat side by side, almost touching, and looked deep into his eyes.
He looked at their own wolves, which had made no attempt to challenge the two, and saw them laying peacefully on the ground, and when he looked back, the two wolves had faded once more into the forest.
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That night as they howled, Wolf looked to the night sky and said, "May your hunts always be fruitful wolf brothers. The Great Spirit indeed gave you both the greatest of all gifts." And two eerie howls joined with the howls of their own pack.
