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Prairie Fire

by LJ Maas

 

 

Prairie Fire, 2^nd edition

© 2009 by LJ Maas

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

 

ISBN 10: 1-933113-47-2

ISBN 13: 978-1-933113-47-0

First Printing: 2009

This Trade Paperback Is Published By

Intaglio Publications

Walker, LA USA

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

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Credits

Executive Editor: Tara Young

 

Cover design by Sheri

 

 

To CB with love.

 

 

Prologue

Once again, the spirits visited Taano. It does not feel well, having this same vision for so long. The old shaman pushed aside the softened deer hide that served as a blanket. Taano couldn’t remember a harvest season growing cold this quickly. He rose and added a small buffalo chip, a chopi, to the fire that was banked in the center of the chuka. He warmed his hands and rubbed them together. After lowering his body to sit cross-legged in front of the fire, he reached for a wooden bowl. Inside the smooth, carved dish lay his ikhish bahtushi. The small pouch held herbs, roots, and anything else nature provided to prepare his medicines.

Taano took a pinch of sage from the bag and tossed it into the fire after rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger.

Then the old man cupped the rising smoke with his hands. He rubbed it into his joints, which seemed to ache more every day. He added cedar, then sweetgrass in the same way. His eagle feathers fanned the fire to produce the necessary smoke. Finally, he added a bit of tobacco to his pipe, sending the smoke up to the great spirits above. He began the ritual this same way every night since the disturbing vision had visited him. His prayers were in a language long forgotten by his people, with the exception of medicine men and women from kin clans who still knew the way.

He was Ankahito—his family had always been Ankahito—but the original clans had separated and traveled far and away, so that now there were many sprinkled throughout the land. It would be a long journey for an old shaman, and Taano wondered why the spirits would call on one so weak for such an arduous task.

He spent the rest of the night speaking with the spirits, sometimes friendly, sometimes arguing. The young people of the clan held their tongues as they passed by Taano’s chuka. He knew the language of the Old Ones, and it was never a good thing to question the ways of a medicine man. When the sun rose high in the sky, Taano’s talks were over. He went to the elders and told them of his visions and of the task for which he was anointed. Although this would leave the Ankahito clan with no shaman, they agreed that the old man must go where the spirits directed him to deliver the warning.