Extract 3.

         It was much later, and night was almost falling, when his friend came to find him again. He sat down without speaking beside Little Snake, who had not left his place at the foot of the old tree. The evening sun spread its fire across the vast sky and the air was filled with the perfume of sage. 

        Born in Sorrow, Okehika Ton, was two winters older than him, and very tall, a good head higher than his friend. His face had a rare beauty about it, and his whole life long it would keep that grace one usually saw in girls. Perhaps it was that aspect of femininity with which the Creator endows every man that aroused a feeling of sensuousness in Little Snake as he looked at his friend.

        Little Snake was a fortunate boy whose family were held in high esteem, but his friend had not had the same good luck and misfortune had befallen his clan. He was an orphan. His father, Swift Falcon, had died the death of an Indian brave in battle just before his birth. His mother, Whispering Stream, was inconsolable after the loss of her husband and, worn down by grief, had succumbed in childbirth. She had died and gone to join her beloved.

       Born in Sorrow lived in the tepee of his grandfather, Bark Shirt, after his grandmother, too, had followed the path of the eternal hunt when he was only four winters old. Almost all his family had thus suddenly disappeared and only the old man was left. Never speaking, never laughing, he lived in shame and grief. Only the shell of his body remained, for his spirit had fled the terrible reality.

      People talked, saying that the spirits of evil would strike this family to the very end. Some refused to look at or touch the boy who, they believed, brought bad luck. Far Seeing Wolf would not allow this curse to afflict him; the boy's father had been a bold warrior and his grandfather had been a loyal companion in battle. He encouraged Little Snake to become friends with the boy shunned by other people, and had ordered the best hunters to supply the sick old man with meat. He gave Born in Sorrow his first horse. Little Snake's mother and aunts helped them whenever they were on the move; the whole family had taken them under their wing. The old chief would not tolerate any sign of lack of respect and esteem for Bark Shirt's clan.  

     Born in Sorrow had learned very young to adopt the role normally reserved for older boys. He could hunt better than any other boy his age and even experienced hunters envied him his prowess. Small game, birds, fish - nothing got away from him. However, this did not stop him taking on, without shame, the tasks usually carried out by the women and girls: he knew how to cook, sew, and look after the tepee which had been his grandmother's. For hours on end he would speak to his grandfather, always adressing him with respect even though the latter, lost in his misfortune, failed to reply. He never complained and already showed that greatness of spirit which was to guide him all his life and make him Little Snake's closest and most valued friend, his kola, his blood brother and soulmate.

     "I am glad you have come, my brother... Look at the stallion grandfather has given me!"

     Born in Sorrow nodded his approval of the horse. "Your grandfather is a wise man and the pony he has given you runs far and fast. You will soon be able to come with me, and I am happy of that."

     Little Snake was happy too. This gift meant that Far Seeing Wolf was according him the right to follow the path reserved for the men, and to leave the world of the women for that of his own sex. It meant, too, that he would soon be admitted to a realm that had hitherto been closed to him. He would one day become a warrior and his grandfather was allowing him a glimpse of his future.

     It was not polite to stare at anyone, even one's best friend, but Little Snake could not help studying the face of this boy who was so close to him. He could read his suffering and knew that at that moment, the boy needed his father more than ever before. His grandfather would soon die and he would be left alone, without family. He was his friend and felt the force of the ties that bound them.

     They looked at each other without shame.

     "Come!"

     Little Snake leapt up and his friend followed. They gave in to an irresistible force, running well beyond the limits of their camp. The night already lay upon the prairie, like a buffalo hide envelopping a sleeping, sensual body. The wind wrapped them in its breath; only the moon lit up their path. Little Snake grabbed his friend's hand and pulled him on further, imparting his own strength to him. He felt as if they were crossing a wide expanse. They were flying, as one, as if they had become birds. They lay down after running for a long while. Their young bodies were drenched in sweat and Little Snake watched his friend's chest heaving in and out in the fresh night air that protected them. His long hair fell to his shoulders and became tangled with the high grass. Little Snake was troubled by the desire to stroke and smell it. Born in Sorrow was lying on his back with his fine profile clearly outlined. His eyes, still damp, were fixed on the moon, round and clear.

    He reached for the sheath of his knife.

    "Do you want us to become blood brothers?"

    Little Snake felt a thrill run through him, a wave of pleasure sprang up inside his chest and spread through his whole body. He shivered.

    "Yes, I do. You shall be my brother and I shall be yours."

    They stood up, took off their clothes, and faced each other, naked. Born in Sorrow held out his knife and his friend took it. With a shaking hand, he looked anxiously at the blade gleaming in the moonlight. Then, decisively, he made a deep cut in his left palm and the blood spurted out, splashing onto the ground. He held out the knife to his friend, who did likewise. Little Snake raised his bloody hand and smeared his friend's face, his neck, his chest, his genitals and then his legs. He painted his friend's body with the very essence of himself, his lifeblood, in order to reach his soul and mark it. Born in Sorrow then traced the same red path on his friend's skin, the path along which they would walk side by side. They held their left hands against each other and their blood mingled. Little Snake closed his eyes, the ground disappeared, the night time sounds intensified and he no longer felt anything. He saw the spirit of his brother, who saw his own; he saw who they were today and who they would be tomorrow; he saw who they had been before birth and who they would be after death. They were travelling, each in the other's soul, and their souls became one. They learned to know each other and to recognise each other. The union of their bodies was timeless and inscribed in their flesh and in their spirit. The Earth had drunk their blood and was a witness for all time of the pact that united them, the pact of life and death. No words existed to explain or describe what they felt at that moment.

     From now on, they would know each other until the end of time.

     They lay down, naked, smeared with blood and filled with a new strength. And yet they were still children! Without a struggle, sleep stole rapidly over them. Like two young puppies lying at their mother's side, they wrapped their arms about each other, safe and yielding. Between sky and earth, childhood and manhood, fear and courage. They had combined their strength, their hope for survival and their confidence. Whatever might happen to them, they would never be alone and abandoned. Each could depend on the other and nothing would ever undo what had just been done.