White Wolf keeper of the Native Archives

White Wolf, Keeper of the Native Archives

White Wolf was laying down in the forest, resting.  He’d had a long day of processing the archives of every Indian tribe in America. He’d been upset, when he opened an Archive labeled “the Mississippians.” His heart grew sad, and angry, too. The whole tribe had been wiped out by White Eyes, long ago.

White Wolf had gone outside into the night air and held his head toward the sky. He gave an ear piercing, grief-stricken, angry howl.

A Spirit Indian woman, dressed in a long white buffalo robe, appeared. “Why are you so sad, White Wolf?”

“I was in the Archives and found a file about a once great tribe; it told of them being obliterated by the treacherous, white man. Everyone: men, women and children, were killed.”

“And why was this?” she asked, sadly.

“Their greed...for our land, and what it yields: gems, gold, silver, copper, oil.”

“How does this make you feel?”

“Bewildered; my once happy heart is weak with sadness.”

“Come, White Wolf. There’s something you must see.”

White Wolf followed the Spirit into a tunnel, which came to life with brilliant, white light; he looked on the side wall and viewed several different points in history that he recognized from the Indian Archives.

The lights extended until he stood beside the display featuring the great Mississippi land... ash was heaped everywhere; as soldiers exited the camp, the last soldier threw a torch.

White Wolf left the tunnel, knowing that man is man’s worst enemy.

JD Couch, 2-17-2013