The Elk-Dog Heritage Read Online Free Page A

Heads Off there was little sleep. He, as well as Coyote, had seen the looks of admiration on the faces of the younger boys. The children growing up must not be allowed to idolize these deviant young rebels. And, Heads Off thought in despair, there was so little that could be done about it. Even Coyote, who usually had suggestions, seemed at a loss. The thing was tearing the People apart. It was alienating father from son. Heads Off, as well as Coyote, had noticed as the council broke up, that the young son of Sees Far again followed the Bloods with an almost worshiping gaze. That honored warrior, in turn, seemed so filled with pent-up rage that it appeared for a moment that he would physically attack Badger. How can a man react when he sees his son following the wrong path?
    At least, Heads Off thought to himself as he turned restlessly on his robes, the boy is not quite old enough to ride with the Bloods. Maybe something will happen for the best. He did not actually believe it.
    Toward morning, the distant thump of the drum was becoming tired and slow. The diminishing vigor of the song was replaced by another sound from a distant part of the camp.
    It started as a low wail, rising in volume and pitch, moaning and grating on the ear of the listener as it grew. Heads Off recognized the sound, although he would have preferred to ignore
it. The unnerving wail was the Mourning Song of the People. It came from the far side of the encampment, and the chief knew without investigating from whose lodge it came.
    Bird Woman had been widowed in the Great Battle. With the help of her brother, Sees Far, she had maintained her lodge as Fox Walking, her oldest son, came of age. She had staked her entire future on the young man, and many had been distressed when he had followed Badger and the Bloods. Now he had been severely wounded in the skirmish of the day. The wail from the distant lodge could mean only one thing. Fox Walking was dead.
    Heads Off turned miserably, frustrated at his inability to take any action. Tall One placed a comforting arm across his chest and snuggled close, wanting to help, but equally frustrated. The girl did not fully realize how very important her mere presence was to the troubled young chief.

5
    Some relief from the internal pressures of the band was provided by the annual move into winter camp. Heads Off was thankful for any distraction at this time.
    Stone Breaker, the weapons maker, had requested that they move by way of the flint quarry. They could replenish supplies of the scarce commodity, and still move into the desirable area for wintering before the Moon of Falling Leaves. The suggestion seemed a good one. Within three suns the Elk-dog band was on the move.
    The chief was concerned about the attitude of Sees Far. That warrior was brooding, with a black sullen hate, over the death of his nephew. He had forbidden his son, Yellow Bird, to associate with Badger and the Blood Society. This naturally resulted in defiance on the part of the boy. The entire band was aware that the youngster still covertly followed the Bloods.
    Heads Off again discussed the possibilities with Coyote, and neither saw a solution.
    â€œIt is like the river where it comes near the falls,” Coyote said grimly. “The water moves slowly at first, then faster and faster.”
    The young chief nodded grimly, agreeing with the analogy. Unfortunately, there was an unspoken extension of the same mental picture. The water must inescapably be pulled over the edge, to fall crashing on the rocks below.
    The temporary stop at the flint quarry was profitable. Near
the head of a sheltered pocket in the rolling prairie was an outcrop of white stone. The entire area was dotted with ledges and protrusions of this sort, jutting horizontally from the lush green hillsides. On the surface of these stones could often be seen the outlines of small aquatic creatures, snails, and water plants. These fossil impressions in the limestone were a