Son of the Moon

It was said a boy marked by the moon would be born. When the stars in the sky were the same as the day he came to be and the full moon illuminated the night, his life would be safe. Only he could lead his people. If he died before that day, everything would be lost.

White Flower was lying, resting her head on White Sun's shoulder. She was tired of her exile with her little family: she, her man, and their child. Son of the Moon played; he laughed; he ran; he took every single allowed pleasure. She sighed. She drew herself closer to her man, caressing his face with the tip of her nose, tasting his salty skin with her lips. He hugged her tight. She started crying softly. The sun lowered in the horizon, and the stars and the moon rose.

"Look," said White Sun, pointing at the sky. "Long Sash is showing in the sky. The stars might be in the right position."

"Maybe they are." She rolled and sat. "You really believe in that prophecy, don't you?"

He shrugged. "He does have that round mark on his back. Tomorrow is the full moon. Everything may end."

The tracks were faint, but visible to those who knew what to look for. White Buffalo cautioned his men. At the outset of their journey, his men had joked about their easy task: Ten men to kill a single man, with only a woman and a child as company. However, many good warriors had died since Son of the Moon was discovered five summers past. The full moon would rise that night, so their time might be running out if the prophecy were to be believed. No one really knew when would be the right night, but every winter brought the danger of doom.

Their bodies cast shadows twice their heights as they positioned themselves to attack. The man noticed something and ran in their direction, getting out of view soon after. The woman and the child ran the other way; three of his men should be enough to deal with them. He and the other seven warriors went to meet the hardest prey.

The shadows were even bigger, announcing the end of the day. White Buffalo noticed a movement out of the corner of his eyes, and one warrior was down. By the Mother Earth, he was good. Chasing him, he found two more of his men dead. White Buffalo sang like a bird, bringing his warriors into formation to surround and trap the man — four against one. When the fight was over, White Buffalo looked at the bloody scene and sighed. He was the only one standing.

White Flower was running, bow and arrows on her back, spear in her hand. She noticed the perfect spot. A high place she could defend until her beloved White Sun came to her. She smiled. Three were sent to her. She was only a woman after all. She took her bow and shot three times. Three men were dead. Now she only needed to wait.

The full moon rose with all its majesty. White Sun was not back. Something was wrong. Her heart raced. Cold sweat stung her eyes, while she scanned the surrounds looking for any sign of White Sun or her foes. Someone was very close. She stood up, spear in her hand. The man was holding White Sun's spear, but he wasn't her husband. She swallowed. If he had killed her husband, what would be her chance? She and her son were not bad at combat, at least they surprised most, because nobody took them seriously. When they noticed their mistake, it was too late. However, that man had a grim look, a knowing look. He would not be surprised.

They started to dance. The man got past her defense. She dodged, but the spear head cut her skin. In a fluid shift of movement, his spear went for her son, who could avoid the sharp edge but lost balance and fell. When she judged herself doomed, an eagle attacked the man's face. She wasted no time. He fell dead.

She dragged herself to a nearby river. She was cleaning her wound, when a gathering of animals appeared: a wolf, a bear, a buffalo, a cougar. Looking around she noticed a shy fox and a deer getting near. A bird was singing. The eagle was hovering over them. Her son look unafraid.

"Don't worry, mother," he said. He walked away and started talking to the animals. There were more beasts coming. She shook her head. That must be a dream.

"What's happening?" she asked.

"The prophecy came true. The owl gave me wisdom; the eagle, its sight; the squirrel, its climbing skill; the cougar, its silent walk; the deer, its speed; the bear, its strength; the bat ,its hearing; the wolf, its smell; the fox, its sharpness; the warbler, its song; and the buffalo will give me my people back. On the day I came to be, eleven animals were under the full moon, and stars lit the sky. Eleven animals are mine to command, one for each summer I have lived so far."

She blinked. "What? Are you now speaking to the animals?"

"You still don't believe, do you?" He lifted a heavy rock to prove the truth of it.

She felt her mouth drop open. When she recovered her speech, she said: "Wait, you said the buffalo will give you your people? How?"

"When I come to them riding it, they will believe." He stood up and pushed his mother gently down. "Now rest, mother. It's over. Our people will have peace."