to be killed to provide food and materials for clothing, shelter and tools. They would talk to the Indian through dreams.”
“I remember a story that Grandfather told us about the horse promising to serve man, but man did not make the same promise. Is it like that?” asked Cherokee.
“Perhaps a little like that,” said Owl. “But the Indian does not kill horses. He needs them to serve him. To carry him from one place to another and to pull his burdens. A horse makes it possible for the buffalo hunt to be more successful because the Indian can travel much farther than he could on foot. The horse is also strong and has great endurance, and can help carry the meat.”
“I will pray to Asga ya galun Lati, that Man will stop this killing,” said Cherokee in a solemn voice. “I will ask him to protect all the animals, large and small.”
“That is a good thing to do,” agreed Owl. “If you see an eagle tomorrow, send your prayers heavenward on his wings.”
“I remember that, too,” said Cherokee. “My father told me that when I traveled with him and he taught me all the things of the forest. I will do as you say.”
“Cherokee?” asked Sunee shyly. “Do you think we could go and find the horses that owl told us about?”
“Let’s rest tonight near Owl. We can leave when the sun wakes up in the morning. We should not travel in a strange land at night. Especially when Man is somewhere near.”
The sun rose early, giving light to a new spring day. It was already comfortably warm. The two young horses planned to walk back to the river for a drink, but owl said, “Man will be butchering the buffalo today. Look down into the meadow.”
Sure enough, there they were. Cutting and tearing and pulling on the dead animals. Cherokee and Sunee decided to make a wide circle around the men and come back toward the river when they felt more safe.
“Thank you, Owl,” they said in unison. “We thank you for your help,” added Cherokee. “Perhaps we will see you again.”
“Good bye young friends,” called Owl.
All that day and one more, Cherokee and Sunee walked and grazed their way through the forest and valleys and hills hunting for the horse herd Owl had told them about. On the second day, they followed a deer path that led them between two high rocks and onto a flat sandy patch of ground. They looked down and saw the horses far below them.
“Oh, Cherokee,” said Sunee. “Let’s go down and make friends right away.”
“We will,” he answered her patiently. “But it seems to be difficult for you to go up and down the rocks. Do you want to rest first?”
“No, I want to go now.”
Cherokee hesitated. Lifting his nose high in the air, he breathed in the scents of this new place. He smelled nothing alarming in any direction. Then he watched for any movement that might indicate a wild animal waiting to attack him or his mate. Satisfied, he skirted a tower of stone, jagged as strokes of lightning. He walked downstream of the narrow river, leading Sunee along the easiest path he could find for her. Half an hour later they saw the horses grazing peacefully. He nickered a greeting.
A large grey mare turned at the sound of his voice. She watched him several minutes, trying to determine if he and the mare with him were friend or foe. Cherokee stood still and waited. Sunee was anxious. Her head bobbed up and down and she lifted first one front hoof and then the other. Finally the grey mare whinnied an invitation and walked toward them.
“Welcome,” she said. “I’ve never seen you before. Where did you come from?”
“We are from Eastern Tennessee and the Smoky Mountains. More recently from the Sequatchie Valley,” answered Cherokee.
“I do not know that place,” replied the mare.
“It is on the other side of the Father of Waters, the Mississippi River,” said Sunee. “What
is your name?”
“I am called Ε tsi, Mother,” answered the mare. “There is no stallion to guard us, so I have
“I remember a story that Grandfather told us about the horse promising to serve man, but man did not make the same promise. Is it like that?” asked Cherokee.
“Perhaps a little like that,” said Owl. “But the Indian does not kill horses. He needs them to serve him. To carry him from one place to another and to pull his burdens. A horse makes it possible for the buffalo hunt to be more successful because the Indian can travel much farther than he could on foot. The horse is also strong and has great endurance, and can help carry the meat.”
“I will pray to Asga ya galun Lati, that Man will stop this killing,” said Cherokee in a solemn voice. “I will ask him to protect all the animals, large and small.”
“That is a good thing to do,” agreed Owl. “If you see an eagle tomorrow, send your prayers heavenward on his wings.”
“I remember that, too,” said Cherokee. “My father told me that when I traveled with him and he taught me all the things of the forest. I will do as you say.”
“Cherokee?” asked Sunee shyly. “Do you think we could go and find the horses that owl told us about?”
“Let’s rest tonight near Owl. We can leave when the sun wakes up in the morning. We should not travel in a strange land at night. Especially when Man is somewhere near.”
The sun rose early, giving light to a new spring day. It was already comfortably warm. The two young horses planned to walk back to the river for a drink, but owl said, “Man will be butchering the buffalo today. Look down into the meadow.”
Sure enough, there they were. Cutting and tearing and pulling on the dead animals. Cherokee and Sunee decided to make a wide circle around the men and come back toward the river when they felt more safe.
“Thank you, Owl,” they said in unison. “We thank you for your help,” added Cherokee. “Perhaps we will see you again.”
“Good bye young friends,” called Owl.
All that day and one more, Cherokee and Sunee walked and grazed their way through the forest and valleys and hills hunting for the horse herd Owl had told them about. On the second day, they followed a deer path that led them between two high rocks and onto a flat sandy patch of ground. They looked down and saw the horses far below them.
“Oh, Cherokee,” said Sunee. “Let’s go down and make friends right away.”
“We will,” he answered her patiently. “But it seems to be difficult for you to go up and down the rocks. Do you want to rest first?”
“No, I want to go now.”
Cherokee hesitated. Lifting his nose high in the air, he breathed in the scents of this new place. He smelled nothing alarming in any direction. Then he watched for any movement that might indicate a wild animal waiting to attack him or his mate. Satisfied, he skirted a tower of stone, jagged as strokes of lightning. He walked downstream of the narrow river, leading Sunee along the easiest path he could find for her. Half an hour later they saw the horses grazing peacefully. He nickered a greeting.
A large grey mare turned at the sound of his voice. She watched him several minutes, trying to determine if he and the mare with him were friend or foe. Cherokee stood still and waited. Sunee was anxious. Her head bobbed up and down and she lifted first one front hoof and then the other. Finally the grey mare whinnied an invitation and walked toward them.
“Welcome,” she said. “I’ve never seen you before. Where did you come from?”
“We are from Eastern Tennessee and the Smoky Mountains. More recently from the Sequatchie Valley,” answered Cherokee.
“I do not know that place,” replied the mare.
“It is on the other side of the Father of Waters, the Mississippi River,” said Sunee. “What
is your name?”
“I am called Ε tsi, Mother,” answered the mare. “There is no stallion to guard us, so I have
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