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  "He's not dead," Louis observed, pointing to how the first animal struggled to breathe as blood dripped down its neck. Mastincala handed over the bow, and Louis fired a second arrow through the elk's stout heart. The animal died instantly.

  The other elk had by now scattered, but two elk would provide what meat was needed. Hinhan Hota then suggested the hides would make fine winter coats, and Louis appeared especially pleased. An elk robe would mark him as a man to know among the wasicuns at the fort.

  Skinning the animals and packing the meat occupied the hunters until early dusk. The boys rode back to camp on the same horse. The other dragged a travois behind it with the meat. Mastincala noticed his father's proud gaze, and when the three of them entered the camp together, they were met with shouts and brave heart calls.

  "Hau, Mastincala! Rabbit has killed an elk!" the other boys exclaimed. "Hau, Hinkpila! Short Hair is blooded!"

  Mastincala gazed down at his fellows from the top of his horse and grinned. For once he was the tall one. Perhaps it was a brave heart that mattered most after all. He hoped so, for he enjoyed the good feeling.

  It was well that Hinhan Hota and the boys had killed the elk, for winter came early. In a fortnight, snows had packed the ground, and even the elk's tough hide couldn't fend off the bite of the frigid north wind. It was in this time of cold that Tasiyagnunpa went to the women's lodge to give birth.

  The Owl saw to it an old woman came to tend the lodge, for Wablosa had been killed at Ash Hollow. She was called Yellow Cow, and Mastincala judged her skin as hard and wrinkled as an old moccasin. Her tongue was sharp as a killing lance, though, and she enjoyed flaying her male charges with rawhide thongs. Gray Owl had left to pray for an easy birth, so Rabbit and Louis left Wicatankala to the care of Yellow Cow and sought the lodge of He Hopa.

  The medicine man welcomed the visit. Winter brought the old man pain, for his brittle fingers swelled, and his legs were bent by too many battle wounds. He had a pair of young women to cook and care for him, but he mostly grumbled at their slowness or complained they grew fat on his wasna.

  "It's well you've come, Mastincala," He Hopa declared as he huddled with the youngsters around a fire. "There is death on the wind. Your mother hurries a child into the world?"

  "Han," Rabbit answered. Yes. Of course, He Hopa knew she was in the women's lodge. Four Horns, after all, had been the one to urge prayers on Gray Owl.

  "It's bad your brother chooses this time to be born," He Hopa said soberly. "Winter is a time for things to die. The leaves fall from the trees, and the prairie grasses grow yellow. Bear takes to his den. He is the only wise one."

  Mastincala agreed, and Louis nodded.

  "I've had brothers born before, but always their eyes closed too soon for me to whisper their names," Mastincala said sadly. "Ate says hard times are before us, for the wasicun has a bad face for the Lakota. We will need warriors. Hinhan Hota needs a son."

  Louis nodded again, and He Hopa rose. He flung off the blanket he'd drawn tight against his shoulders, then began chanting. Each word he muttered with gritted teeth as the chill ate its way into his ancient, emaciated body. Then Mastincala looked on in disbelief as the medicine man stripped off his buckskins, leaving him naked save for a breech-clout. The boys eyed each other gravely. Then Mastincala discarded his elk robe and likewise stripped off his outer clothing. Louis did the same, and the three of them danced about the fire, shivering with cold and singing an ancient song.

  "Hear me, Wakan Tanka," He Hopa began. "We are ashes to your fire, consumed in an instant. Grant us power that our song may make the little one strong. Give him a brave heart. Send sun to warm his bones and make the blood flow quick."

  He Hopa then drew a knife and made twin cuts across his chest. Blood trickled from the wounds, and Mastincala stared in wonder at how the old medicine man cried even louder and danced with new vigor.

  "Hear me, Wakan Tanka," the Rabbit called as he drew his own knife and held the blade against his chest. Cold steel touched the bare flesh, but Mastincala couldn't bring his fingers to press the blade.

  "Have brave hearts," He Hopa urged.

  Louis drew his knife then, and Mastincala took a deep breath. He wouldn't allow his new brother to make the sacrifice alone. The knife cut shallow red lines in the taut flesh, and Mastincala fought the need to cry out. Twinges of pain brought a spasm of energy to him, and he danced as a wild man. The feel of the warm blood running down his belly startled his senses. He gazed over at Louis and noticed how much brighter the blood seemed when dripping down the nutmeg-colored flesh of his companion.

  "Ay, hah, hah," He Hopa chanted. "Wakan Tanka, hear our prayer."

  And so, on they danced until exhaustion overcame them. Louis collapsed first. Then Mastincala dropped to his knees. He Hopa, who was white-haired the day both were born, continued on until a crier brought word a boy was born to Hinhan Hota.

  "Dress yourselves, young ones," He Hopa told his freezing disciples. "You have a brother."

  "Hau!" Mastincala bellowed. "A brother!"

  Louis grinned his agreement as he hurried to pull a shirt over his bare ribs. The boys had little luck with their clothes, and finally He Hopa motioned for his women to help. The girls giggled and clucked like old hens as they warmed the youngsters. He Hopa then threw buffalo hides beside the fire and wrapped the boys like cocoons.

  Mastincala awoke the next morning still enclosed in his hide. Louis was warming his stiff joints beside the fire. Outside the sun had broken through a heavy haze, and melting snow dripped from the heavy hides covering the tipi.

  "I have a brother?" Mastincala asked.

  "Eat this," He Hopa said, shoving a flat corn cake into the Rabbit's mouth. "There is tea there. Drink it. Your father waits."

  Louis laughed to see Mastincala in such a hurry. Moments later the two boys stumbled out into the snowdrifts together. When they reached Hinhan Hota's lodge, the chief clasped them both by the shoulders.

  "Welcome your brother," Gray Owl called, motioning toward the bundle of fur clasped in old Yellow Cow's arms. The boys stepped closer, and the old woman allowed them a single glimpse of the wrinkled brown face beneath.

  "He's called Itunkala," their sister explained.

  "A good name," Tasiyagnunpa announced. Still weak and weary, she lay in buffalo hides beside the fire.

  A good name? Mastincala asked himself. It meant Mouse. If there was a name sure to grant its owner a steeper path than Rabbit, Mouse was certain to be it.

  "He will need a brave heart and a strong arm," Mastincala declared.

  "And a brother to show him the way," Hinhan Hota added.

  "Such a brother he will have," Mastincala promised. Louis clasped his brother's wrist. A smile emerged on the paler boy's lips. Rabbit guiding Mouse? Yes, it was worth a laugh surely.

  "I have a young brother already," Louis whispered. "The Lakota call him Istamaza."

  "Istamaza?" Mastincala asked. Eyeglasses?

  "He doesn't see well," Louis explained. "The soldier doctor made him some spectacles. It would be worse if his skin wasn't so light. His hair is fair, too, like yellow grass. He will be a better white man."

  "You are Lakota now," Mastincala declared. "You will stay here with me. We will ride to the buffalo hunt and fight the Crows."

  "No, my father will come soon, and I will return to the fort," Louis muttered. "I, too, have a hard road to walk, it seems."

  "The road of the wasicun?" Mastincala asked. "That is a crazy trail!"

  "So it must seem," Louis confessed with a grin. "I'll come back, though, and we'll hunt again."

  "Yes," Mastincala agreed. "Many buffalo will fall to our arrows."

  Chapter Five

  Louis's departure a few days later left Mastincala cold and hollow. Difficult days were at hand, and he now felt he faced them alone. There was a winter as bitter cold and frozen as any remembered by the old ones. Chills gripped the small and the helpless, and Mastincala worried over the survival of hi
s small brother. But Wakan Tanka willed the child would survive, and ice, as always, thawed under the dancing suns of summer.

  As Mastincala prepared to meet the challenges of his twelfth summer, great changes shook the earth. Word came that war had broken out among the white men in the country beyond the great waters.

  "Ah, they are a quarrelsome people," He Hopa declared. "It is like them to fight among themselves."

  When Louis arrived to share the buffalo hunt, he told of great armies of graycoats who fought the bluecoat soldier chiefs. A hundred times a hundred were slain, it was said. Mastincala shook his head in doubt. How could so many people be killed? Even the wasicun thunder guns could not bring such a calamity to pass.

  "It's so," Louis insisted, and He Hopa reminded the Rabbit how the eagle chief Harney had made war upon the peaceful camp of the Sicangu at Blue Creek.

  "Then perhaps all the wasicuns will die," Mastincala said. "Then the Lakota people can live in the old way, walking the sacred road, with only the Crows and Snakes to fight."

  As snows came again to the plain, thawed, and faded under the golden glow of the summer sun, it seemed perhaps it would be just so. The wagon trains that rolled along Platte River grew fewer, and mostly now it seemed there were women and little ones together with old men on that road. Few soldiers kept watch on the wasicun forts. At Laramie only the old and lame occupied the long lodges.

  For Mastincala, those two years were a remembered time. He hunted and fished and grew taller. His shoulders broadened, and his voice deepened. While bathing in the chill streams of Paha Sapa, he saw that he was a boy no longer. Next day Hinhan Hota drew him aside.

  "Each Lakota is called in his own hour to be a man, my son," the Owl explained. "This is your time. No one among the people could have stood so tall in his boyhood. All that must now be forgotten. You go to walk the warrior path. Hau, it makes a father's heart sing!"

  Hinhan Hota then led Mastincala to the lodge of He Hopa. The old medicine man was waiting, his eager eyes betraying his feelings.

  "So, you are a boy no more, Rabbit," He Hopa said. "Much waits to be done. Much. You are ready?"

  "I am ready," the young man replied solemnly.

  "Then it is well we should begin."

  Mastincala followed He Hopa inside the lodge. The young man then sat beside the elder and listened to admonitions concerning the responsibilities of a Lakota. There was lore to be passed along, stories of boldness and daring. Finally, when He Hopa was satisfied all was in order, he escorted Mastincala out of the tipi.

  "It's time for him to seek his vision," He Hopa announced.

  Hinhan Hota then appeared. The Owl led his son to the edge of the camp before halting. Wicatankala arrived carrying a fine cloth breech-clout and a pair of beaded moccasins.

  "These are for my brother," she said, never looking directly at Mastincala. "They will bring him a brave heart in his search for a dream."

  Mastincala accepted the fine moccasins and the breechclout with a silent nod. Wicatankala then left. Her role was over, for the rite that followed, the seeking of a vision, was also a boy's introduction into Lakota manhood. It was as ancient as the Lakota people, and in all that time fathers had introduced their sons to the wakan, the mystery, of the rite.

  Hinhan Hota took great care to strip Mastincala of his boyhood clothes. Though the air was cold and the wind sharp, he was given only the new breechclout and the moccasins to wear.

  "Today is the beginning of manhood," the Owl explained. "I peel away all that is false and send you naked before Wakan Tanka. Open your heart to the great mystery that is life, my son."

  Hinhan Hota then conducted Mastincala to a rocky cliff some distance from the camp. There he was instructed to remain until he received a vision.

  "You may pray and sing, Mastincala," his father explained. "But no food or drink may pass your lips. The starving shows you are worthy of the dream. When it comes, pay great heed to it. All that follows in your time as a man will flow from this dream."

  Hinhan Hota then left the Rabbit alone in the rocks. For a time Mastincala stood in the sharp breeze, confused, wondering how one might bring on a vision. The silence haunted him. He felt cut off from his family, from his band, from all he knew. And as he stood in that lonely place, the hunger began to gnaw at his belly.

  "Hear me, Wakan Tanka," Mastincala finally prayed. "Bring to my heart the knowledge I seek. Show me the sacred road I must walk."

  He then sang a brave heart song. Afterward he prayed again.

  Never did the sun cross the heavens so slowly. Day lasted a lifetime, it seemed. And when darkness arrived, Mastincala faced it with the same chant and the same prayer. His throat was parched, and his belly ached with want. Still he refused to cry out. He shivered with cold that night, then blinked his eyes as a bright sun tormented him the next morning. Hau! Manhood was not as easily faced as he imagined. And as he suffered, he wondered what became of a boy denied a vision. There was but a single answer. He died of hunger or exhaustion.

  Toward dusk his voice grew weak. His tongue swelled, and sweat left his body weak with fatigue. Finally he could stand no longer. His knees buckled, and he fell.

  Then the dream came.

  It was unlike anything he had seen or felt before. His soul seemed to be floating on a cloud. He was swept along on the wind over a broad plain, past familiar hills and mountains, above rivers and streams where he had swum and fished. He saw bands of Crows and Snakes, war parties of Pawnees, buckskinned wasicuns with their hairy faces and flint-lock rifles. Finally he descended to the plain.

  Now he was Tatanka, Bull Buffalo, rumbling over the yellow grass prairie, leading the humped multitude on the run. Thunder exploded behind him, and great yellow blades of lightning split the gray heavens.

  "I am Tatanka," a deep, sorrowful voice seemed to boom across the world. "See how my power shakes all the earth! Who will sing the brave heart song and follow me?"

  Mastincala wanted to boast that he, the Rabbit, would follow, but only that booming voice emerged from his lips. It was no longer for him to follow as a boy might. Now he must lead!

  The dream took him many places, for Tatanka seemed able to follow the Lakota star map painted upon the sky. He marched across the plains to Pe Sla, the sacred hoop, then rumbled on to Mato Tipila, the Bear's Lodge mountain to the west. When Bull Buffalo had finally completed his journey, he stopped. Where before a thundering herd had followed, now there were but a few.

  "Hau, my way is sacred," Tatanka said. "The road is hard, and few feet can stay upon it. Hau, have the brave heart! Come, follow me."

  Again Mastincala wanted to answer, but the words were his own. He swelled with pride, for the call to lead would bring honor. Then he felt himself floating again, drifting upon a cloud. Overwhelming darkness swallowed him, and there was only the numbing cold of the night to torment his bare flesh.

  Hinhan Hota brought him down from his solitude the next morning. Mastincala was weak and could hardly stand. The first droplets of water that touched his lips brought forth a fierce thirst, and he hungered for the taste of wasna. He got neither. Instead, he was conducted to a water hole.

  "Ate, my dream," Mastincala muttered.

  "Hold it close to your heart, my son," Hinhan Hota urged. "Soon you must tell He Hopa. The old one will help you to see its meaning."

  Mastincala nodded, then surrendered his will to the Owl.

  Sunka Sapa, the Black Dog, and Waawanyanka, the Watcher, now arrived to help restore Mastincala to the living. The two young men were but a summer older than the Rabbit, and both were eager to provide assistance to a young man with no older brothers or cousins. Hinhan Hota oversaw a careful washing, for Mastincala must cleanse himself of all that had come before. Then he was fed enough to restore his senses. Finally Hinhan Hota escorted his son to the medicine lodge. He Hopa was waiting.

  "We must bring back the dreaming," the medicine man explained as he helped the Rabbit inside the nearby tipi. "You remember?"


  "Yes," Mastincala said, forcing his eyes to focus on the wrinkled old man.

  "Tell it all," He Hopa urged, and Mastincala then related the strange dream.

  He Hopa had sat quietly as Mastincala recounted the dream. Even when the young man finished, He Hopa remained stone-faced, silent.

  "What does it mean?" the Rabbit asked. "Am I to be a leader among our people?"

  "Perhaps," Four Horns said, gazing at Mastincala's forehead. "That is not for you and I to say. If a man sets out upon a path, others may follow."

  "What path?"

  "Tatanka calls to your heart. Bull Buffalo is sacred among all the creatures that walk the earth. It is he who gives us the warm coats and coverings for our lodges. He fills our bellies in the cold moons of winter. He is beloved to Wakan Tanka. A man who follows Tatanka would give himself to the people, seeking only their good, even as Tacante, the man who was your father, did."

  "I am to sacrifice myself then," Mastincala said, digesting the news somberly.

  "It's a hard road, little friend. It will take a brave heart. This you have."

  "Yes," Mastincala said, stiffening his shoulders.

  "Tatanka promises great power to the man who walks his path. He will need it, for there is great peril."

  "Tacante told me you promised him a short life if he put on the people's shirt, agreeing to tend their needs. Is my walk also to be a short one?"

  "Nothing in the dream speaks of this," He Hopa explained.

  "But you have great power to see what will come."

  "Not so great as to say how long a man should live," He Hopa explained. "I have told you it is a hard path Tatanka calls you to walk. But Wakan Tanka watches the brave hearts. So you will be watched, nephew."

  He Hopa stood and walked to the far side of the lodge. He rummaged among his belongings until he located a pouch made from a bull buffalo's bladder. The bag was decorated with elk teeth and hair, and a sacred red rock dangled from a rawhide thong on one side.

  "This is strong medicine, Mastincala," He Hopa declared. "So long as you remain true to Tatanka, so it will keep you safe. Hau, it holds great power!"