Extract 4.

"I want to show you something else, my brother."

Little Snake followed him, this time on horseback. Born in Sorrow seemed to know this land as if he had spent several seasons there, and led him an exact path through the darkness. They very soon left the mountains and the rugged cliffs and were galloping across a terrain that was flat but just as barren. Little Snake's pony had revived thanks to the water and the leaves he had fed on and he seemed to enjoy this wild ride. At daybreak, they reached the end of their journey, and when Born in Sorrow suddenly halted his mount and raised his arm to point to the view, Little Snake was even more filled with wonder.

They were looking down on an immense circle of a valley, surrounded by towering walls of rock. Opposite them, spectacular cascades of foaming water poured down the rock face with a savage beauty, forming a dark and turbulent river below. The river ran across the plain then disappeared into the dark depths of the earth beneath them. There was something spellbinding and magical about this place. All along the banks of the river, as far as the eye could see, stretched a herd of horses. There were several hundred of them, maybe a thousand. It was incredible and Little Snake could not suppress a shiver of delight as he looked at this vision.

"Am I dreaming?" he murmured.

"No brother, you are not. Unless we are both in a waking dream. This herd belongs to a Comanche tribe whose village is a half day's ride away. I have been watching them come and go for several days now. They are a powerful tribe to possess so many horses."

Yes, Little Snake could feel that power as he looked on, in awe. They both stood, admiring and enthralled by this breath-taking scene. The sun was rising on the horizon, big and yellow. Light spread across the earth as if taking it in a loving embrace. Shadows played on the surface of the water, which shimmered like the hair of a woman. The horses galloped and, under the watchful eyes of their mothers, the foals mimicked the wild fights they would one day perform to gather their own harem. Little Snake's eye was held by an old dappled grey mare who seemed to be the dominant horse, surrounded by her daughters and foals. When the day had finally broken, they went to hide their own horses and stretched out to watch the herd grazing upon the short grass, a miracle in this desert region. They ate their strips of dried meat and the last of the rabbit. Hours passed without them noticing, and they never tired of watching. Born in Sorrow and Little Snake looked at each other with shared emotion. The sun was already quite high when the people who had gathered such a wealth of horses came near. Little Snake had imagined them almost as gods, towering and magnificent beings; in reality, there was nothing extraordinary about them, they were quite small. But he could not help admiring the skill with which they handled such an impressive herd, their ease in catching a few of the wild young horses, probably to train them. They left as quickly as they had arrived and Little Snake turned to his brother and said almost resentfully: "How is it that Wakan Tanka has given these men the power to own so many horses?"

He was silent for a moment then added forcefully, without thinking before he spoke, "Well then, we'll show them who we are, you and me! We'll steal their horses and go back in victory!"

In a voice suddenly filled with anger, Born in Sorrow replied: "Have you still not understood? Listen to me! I am not going back. I will never go back."

Little Snake felt awkward and ashamed when he realised how disrespectful he had been towards his brother. In the heat of the moment, he had forgotten to honour his decision. Evening was already upon them and Born in Sorrow stood up abruptly. The moon lit up his tall frame and he stood out distinctly as if caught in a halo of light. He seemed to grow taller by the second, reaching into the sky. He looked up at the stars and extended his arms to implore the Creator.

"Oh Wakan Tanka!"

His voice echoed across the valley, rebounding against the high wall of rock, and the horses nervously looked up to where they stood. Born in Sorrow remained, his eyes closed and arms outstretched. There was something at once terrifying and wondrous about him as he stood there in those strange surroundings with the godly herd, the endless sky and the waterfall crowned with wild and mysterious plumes of spray. Little Snake was like a child, filled both with wonder and fear.

He tried to speak.

"Forgive me, my brother..."

But Born in Sorrow had disappeared. Little Snake had barely got up to follow him when he saw him on his horse, riding off at full gallop. He was struck. Only a few minutes ago they had both been at one and at peace; now, his brother was as if possessed. He sought his gaze furtively and saw that his eyes were shining with a divine strength; he no longer saw Little Snake. Born in Sorrow was rushing down the steep slope towards the herd at the speed of the wind, and roaring. He seemed to be flying with his horse as they leapt gracefully from rock to rock, finding a way through without once faltering. As he came near the herd, the animals, frightened by his cries, began galloping in a swift swell of movement. Born in Sorrow caught up with them and followed the panic-stricken herd. The whinnying of the crazed horses rang out. Gathered there in this natural enclosure where branches and boughs blocked their only way of escape, they could only follow their herd instinct and continue to circle round and round under the high walls which Mother Nature had raised around them. Faster and faster they ran, in a wild whirlwind of motion, their frenzied hooves flinging up so much spray, it looked as if the river itself would rise up from its bed. A thick cloud of dust swirled all around. Little Snake would lose his brother, drowned in all this movement, then catch sight of him again. His legs were painful and his breathing rapid. Standing still, he dwelt on the most powerful prayer a man could offer to the gods. There, before his eyes, whirled the Circle of life and death, and Born in Sorrow was the great shaman in its midst.

Then suddenly came a moment which was to remain engraved in his memory forever. Consider what he saw, imagine the force of it. His brother was standing up on his horse's back, in perfect balance. His arms spread wide and his face lifted skywards, he was astride the entire herd. Their manes flowing in the wind, their powerful flanks heaving, the wild race, the thundering of hooves, the eddy of the herd... and above them all, one single, majestic man, gliding like the falcon whose name he would from now on bear.

"Falcon Who Stands Astride the Horses."