In the heart of the valley next to the river stood Buffalo Rock. This is the place where the tribe story tellers, and elders would gather the people for the sacred ceremonies of the ancestors. These sacred ceremonies were revered with the utmost respect by this native tribe, and on this special day was the day that all boys of age took the step into manhood. This was the day that they became men and warriors to protect their tribe. Every year for this special ceremony the storytellers and tribe elders would tell the story of the greatest legend known to their people: The Legend of the Buffalo Warrior. The one whose story was foretold.

The drums were slowly beating, and the wind whistling as the water rippled down the riverbank all in harmony. An eagle soared above in the sky, and even the buffaloes circled the ceremonial campgrounds from a distance watching almost as if they were members of the tribe themselves. The buffalo was highly honored and seen as sacred to their people and though hunted for food and clothing to survive, it was still a high crime to do so without the consent of the chief and elders. They believed the buffalo spirit protected their tribe and they were held sacred. Unlike most tribes, they fought to preserve and protect them from greed, and selfish hunters that killed them for sport. The Buffalo also represented the strength of the land. If the Buffalo were not thriving and healthy then it was said that the earth was sick and in need of healing. They were only allowed to kill so many a season thus to keep the numbers and spirit of the buffalo strong. Anyone spectating the ceremonies would be enchanted by such a moment as it was surely magical to see both man and beast congregating with one another in an event that was surely to change the history and destiny not only of this tribe, but of all who lived in these lands. It was a dark, cold night as snow fell to the ground and the boy stood in front of the tribal council, the Chief, and the elders. His only attire being a loincloth, and sandals. A silence came over the crowd as the tribe storyteller raised his hands up in the air and the drums beating stopped instantly at that moment. “Do you pledge your honor, your soul, and your strength to defend this tribe and all that it holds sacred?” The storyteller asked the young boy as his voice echoed through the valley. “I do, and I shall for as long as I have life in my body,” said the boy. The spirit dancers began to dance intensely, and the drummers banged cheerfully on their drums made of buffalo hide. The warriors struck their spears on their shields and even the buffalo watching from a distance stomped their hooves into the ground, and grunted just as excited as the people in the congregation. More young men than anyone could ever remember had taken the ceremonial Trials of the Ancestors. Many failed, and even more had died, and still no one had ever completed the final trial in the way that the legend tells. Today, though not outspokenly said was something much more than any other day. Many spectated to see if the legend would come true, or just like all other days would it remain just a fairy tale created to give the people hope that their omnipotent one had come. Once again, the storyteller put his hands into the air this time with a deep, and enchanting look upon his face as he walked the circle of elders and looked into their eyes. “Is there any man here who objects to these events or those taking the journey?” The Elders, and council sat in silence and the crowd was so quiet you could hear the slightest wind blow. “Long, long ago since the time our ancestors journeyed to these lands, when they came from the land that was directly under the sun. A prophecy was given by the buffalo’s reflection in the river. The High Priestess received a vision, and all the women who had not been married and still had their pride had dreams of the legend. His silhouette tall and strong with a voice that made the heavens shake. They all seen the spirit form of The Buffalo Warrior. The one that shall lead our people to defend the land promised to us by our ancestors from any outsiders that threatened all they held dear to their way of life.” The drummers again slowly and softly began to tap their drums to the tempo of the storytellers words, as he walked and looked into the eyes of the people. He went into depth about the legend that he honestly believed was near. “It is said he shall ride with the buffalo, and charge into battle at the head and crush all whom stand in the way of our people. He shall lay down his life for those whom once before treated him like an outcast. His blood will possess the strength of the buffalo and the locks on his head shall be like that of the buffalo.” The people enthused by his words began cheering and chanting , though to many it would seem supernatural the herd of buffalo could breathe steam out of their nostrils, or was it their hot breath into the cold night air. Yet and still it was magical, and the crowd began to stomp their feet in sync and the storyteller danced to their rhythm and began to sing, “He comes from the land of the sun, he runs like the wind is his soul, his hair made from the buffalo, and his bow shot a mighty blow”. The young boys taking the ceremonial trials had to be no younger than the age of fifteen. On this night, there were over a dozen of them taking the journey. They all sat in a semi-circle watching the storyteller, mesmerized by the crowd and still wondering if they would survive this trial. The quest of the trials were kept from all the young men, so they knew not exactly what their journey would consist of. They only knew they must honor their family name, because to pass or fail would determine the rest of their lives. It was surely a heavy task hovering over their minds like a dark rain cloud. The warriors walked over to the group of young men, and stood them up then blind folded them. This was to symbolize them leaving their tribe as boys into darkness and awakening in the light as men, and as warriors. From this point on they could not return to the tribe village until the journey was complete. They were to remain in complete silence and speak to nobody until the journey was over. The storyteller silenced the people once again to give his final words of hope. “Since before the coming of the outsiders, and even the other tribes around our land our people were here! They call us The Nameless Tribe and some wonder why we accept that and say nothing. That is because we know who we are. We are warriors! We are the chosen. So, in the name of our ancestors and all this tribe holds sacred may the spirit of the buffalo be with these soon to be young warriors as they journey to manhood tonight.

The Trials of the Ancestors were every young boys’ rites of passage into manhood. Upon passing it they would be able to become the most honorable thing a man could be in their tribe, a warrior. They would earn the respect of the chief, elders, and council. However, if they failed, they would be outcast from the tribe and be known as “shadows” no longer fully recognized as tribesmen. It was due to this stigma that came with the trials many would consider not even attempting the journey, and instead take the shame of only being a farmer or hunter at best. One of the young boys truly in his own thoughts was ready to just begin these trials and get it over with. In his heart he still wasn’t sure that he believed any of the prophecy, he only believed in himself and though he felt he was already an outcast in this tribe he wanted to prove all naysayers that he was worthy to be a true warrior. Still, with all that he had been through in his life this would surely be the hardest task he had ever faced. With the night sky being so dark, and cold this would make the trials ahead even more challenging. Indeed, these trials were weighing heavy on the hearts and minds of these young warriors to be. The sound of the drums were loud, his heart was beating above the vibrations. He could feel the whole tribes’ eyes staring at him as if he were the only one taking the journey with looks of curiosity and concern. Since he was a youth, he heard stories of The Buffalo Warrior but for the most part he just viewed it as another of the many endless tales told by the storytellers. He was born ostracized into this tribe and had always felt deep inside he did not belong and by many he was not wanted here. There were even some that most likely wanted him to not only fail, yet also not survive. Regardless of all these thoughts there was one thing that kept compelling him to take the journey as if it were a subconscious feeling of his destiny. Ever since the day he was born he had dreams and visions that were broken up into small fragments like a riddle he himself had to put together. However, there were two people that believed in him. One was his mother, and the other an admirer who recognized his greatness in secret. On this night though she could no longer hold in her secret, it was a secret he could not imagine was so strong. The entire time of the ceremony she stood off from the crowd leaning on a rock staring at him, and hoping for a moment of eye contact with him so her eyes could tell him that she was there for him, and that she had his back and cared for his safe return. Near the riverbank is where most of the young women who were unwed stood observing the ceremonial festivities. It was not required by tradition that they do so, yet it was that they dare not take the risk of the elders, nor their fathers noticing them make eyes with the young warriors to be that they secretly admired. No woman had ever taken the trials of the ancestors but that was not to say that the women of this tribe were not themselves warriors. In fact, of all the tribes in the land they were the most feared women warriors known and even opened the minds of other tribes to train their own women to help defend the nation. Finally, the boy made eye contact with her, and for the first time he truly noticed the eyes she had for him. He had slight suspicions in the past, yet nothing was as deep as what he felt from her at this moment. It was almost as if she sent all her thoughts and feelings to him. He could feel her love and worries and for a moment they were as if one. He turned his head back to focus on the storyteller and elders as he dealt with the barrage of emotions and thoughts hitting him all at once, yet still trying to mentally prepare himself for the upcoming trials at next sunset. The High Priestess stood on top of what was known as “Buffalo Rock”, for it truly appeared to be the shape of a buffalo. She said, “close your eyes, open your hearts and feel the power of our ancestors, let me tell you the story of the one whose story was foretold, the one we know as The Buffalo Warrior. Your journeys have already begun.” The crowd all sat down with their legs crossed and listened to the tale, the prophecy, the legend to come, or had the time to come now come?