The Elk-Dog Heritage by Don Coldsmith

camp. Coyote and Heads Off turned to follow and evaluate the extent of the damage.
    â€œSee if you can find my cooking stones!” Tall One called after them.
    People were already sorting debris, salvaging even unburned portions of smoldering lodge covers.
    â€œThey started with the biggest lodges,” observed Coyote.
    It was true. The enemy had deliberately selected the lodges of the more affluent on which to wreak destruction. This lent more weight to the thing Heads Off feared. It had been a deliberate move to destroy supplies and to destroy the ability to obtain more, by reducing the horse herd.
    The high wailing of the Mourning Song rose from the far side of the camp as someone discovered the loss of a family member.
    Standing Bird trotted up, astride his red buffalo mare.
    â€œWe have several more elk-dogs, Heads Off!”
    â€œIt is good!” And there’s not much that is, he added silently to himself. “Tie them all, so we lose no more. And, Standing Bird,” he called as the other reined away, “spread word of a council tonight. We must make plans.”
    There was much to do before dark. The People moved like ants, meticulously working over the ruined debris of their homes. It was found that the empty make-believe lodges had been spared, probably because they appeared makeshift and worthless. Soon they were no longer a pretense, but actual homes of the dispossessed. Others did indeed move in with relatives.
    One amazing thing had occurred. The lodge of White Buffalo was untouched. Even though one of the most pretentious, and therefore most subject to attack, the enemy had left it intact. The medicine man was taking credit for the omission, pointing out
that he was protected by the strength of his medicine. Most of the People readily accepted this interpretation of the matter.
    Heads Off knew that his friend and adviser, White Buffalo, was an opportunist, taking advantage of a situation to increase his prestige. However, it seemed likely that the enemy had indeed avoided damage to the lodge. They could easily recognize it as the lodge of a medicine man, by the intricate and extensive painting on the lodge skin. Not knowing the extent of this man’s powers, they would avoid direct confrontation as a matter of safety. So, in effect, the young chief realized, the old man was correct. His medicine, or at least the fear of it, had saved the lodge of White Buffalo. And, the sacred white cape of the People was still safe.
    Bodies of the dead were ceremonially wrapped by mourning families, and prepared for transport next day to tree scaffolds for burial. The enemy dead and wounded had been carried away by their comrades as they departed.
    All was far from complete as Sun Boy finished his daily run, but other activity came to a halt as the council fire was lighted. The People began to straggle to the center of their ruined camp.

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    Despite the urgency of this council, the customary amenities were observed. Heads Off had long since come to understand that such serious matters as council must not be hurried. Still, he felt the press of time as he lighted the pipe and blew puffs to the four directions, to the sky and to the earth. He passed the pipe to the sub-chief on his right, and sat back to wait as the instrument made its circle.
    Finally, the circle was completed, the pipe stowed away, and the discussion could begin. Coyote took the cased council pipe from the chief. He was very proud of his daughter, the Tall One, for having the presence of mind to pick up the chiefs pipe and his elk-dog medicine as she fled. These objects were practically all that had been saved from her lodge, but they were most important.
    â€œLet us count the dead,” Heads Off was speaking.
    A general accounting was discussed. There were apparently four dead, all males. This indicated good organization in the defense and retreat, but was grim news in light of the already thin ranks of fighting men. One had