Page 1 of The Spirit of the Wolf

Prologue

In a time long ago, a Northwestern Indian tribe, one composed of five different tribal bands or clans, betrayed the god of Thunder. It happened in an age when food was plentiful, when starvation was unknown. Yet the men of the tribe sought to kill more game than was needed.

The Thunderer’s children thought to intervene on the animals’ behalf, but little did they know that the tribe’s greed had turned to lust. Ultimately, the tribal leaders and their followers killed the Thunderer’s children, every one of them.

In retaliation for this evil deed, the Thunderer stole four beautiful women from the tribe and sought to destroy every other member of it, all clans. It would have been accomplished, too, but for the Creator, who intervened.

“Nay, these people shall not die,” the Creator decreed. Instead He sent the people of these tribal bands into the mist. There, they would live a half existence. Neither alive nor dead, every individual would be cursed to live forever in the shadows, not real, not even ghosts.

But once a generation, a boy would be summoned as his clan’s champion. Becoming real and taking a form of substance forever, the boy would set out into the tangible world, where he would be charged with the duty of undoing the spell which enslaved his people.

In 1816, there were four tribal bands left, their people still imprisoned in the mist. Swift Hawk, then ten years old, was chosen to represent the Burnt Chest Band of the tribe; Spirit Raven, also ten years of age, was next selected from the Fast Runner Band; Long Bow would represent the Black Fire Band; and Spotted Wolf, the Yellow Shawl Band.

The boys were to go out into the world to be adopted by other Indian tribes. The champions were to grow, to learn, to watch, to come to know the enemies of their adopted tribe. For it was only through a special act of kindness and selflessness toward an enemy that the enchantment could be broken.

In 1835, Spirit Raven has less than a year left to break the spell. Adopted by the Assiniboine Indians when he was still a lad, Spirit Raven is now known to his adopted brothers as Grey Coyote; Coyote, because of the form his spirit protector takes, and Grey because the Assiniboine have observed that black clouds and hard times follow the boy always.

With so little time left to accomplish his mission, Grey Coyote is desperate.

And so begins our story…

Chapter

One

The Western American Plains, the early 1830s

The scent of sacred herbs, of sage and sweet grass, hung low in the air. With a steady hand, a naked young man bathed his entire body in the hallowed smoke. At the same time, he sang the good songs, his voice lifting to the heavens.

“Hi-ya, hi-ya, hi-ya, haii.

Hi-ya, hi-ya, hi-ya, haii.”

Night had fallen. In the distance, a wolf howled. Then came another wail, another and another, until the song of the wolf mixed with the rhythm of the night.

Ancient voices, long dead, and the beat of many drums rang out over the plains. A nighthawk squawked. The young man, although aware of these signs, paid them scant attention.

The howling of his spirit protector, the little wolf, could be heard over the rest. It beckoned. It was an encouraging sign.

At last, the young man was to communicate with the Creator; Grey Coyote was to have his vision.

Positioned high atop a lonely butte, Grey Coyote raised his arms to the heavens in silent invitation, his voice for the moment stilled. Then, as though the music of the evening surrounded him, he sang out,

“Wakonda, Creator, have pity on me.

What I seek is not for myself.

It is for my people.

Wakonda, I have been charged with the duty of freeing my people from the land of the everlasting shadows.

Wakonda, I am twenty-four winters in age.

And in all this time, I have not learned how to help my people.

Wakonda, Creator, have pity on me.”

Grey Coyote waited. He could not see his protector, the little wolf, but he could still hear its yipping off in the distance. Its song came closer and closer, until its noise grew loud even to Grey Coyote’s ears. But Grey Coyote did not draw away.