the forces of darkness rose up in the night.
bewitched the West Winds.
cries in the West Winds swelled a lament of spiralling power
... blowing sorcery across the oceans ... and brought with
those howls and screetches, the white races. And with them
they also brought the other red races, those of the red hair
who our ancestors knew from long before.
the distant cousins of the Inuits, their cousins the Laplanders,
those are the cousins of these Vikings. Where we traded bows
with each other in the frozen land since time immorial. And
from thense we knew each other as the Red children of our
common blood moon. Pierced by an arrow.
it was their enemies, the Saxons, whom the West Winds did
now summon. And they slaughtered those buffalo with their
rifles. Then became the children of bufallo. Iron and fire
; as karma would have it. They are a spear on your sides now.
And it aches to see them fill the plains with their cities
looked down at the body which had been unearthed in an earthquake.
And before my wings took to the moon's light, I took one last
peck at its finger, so that it could point to the way of the
wind that night.
aflight did I swallow. And saw the future unfold in the clouds
before me. A world-path lit with anger and split with a decision
and indecision. Where the Buffalo children, stood before the
red tribes who now stood together. Viking and Lakota, and
Cheyenne. And behind them the Inuit and the Laplander. And
the ghosts of our forgotten brethren: the Atltlanticans, children
of the Atlanteans.