Prologue: The oaks are allegory for the Seminole people. The flood waters, the white man. The lightning, God. The story takes place during one of the Seminole wars, about 1836. The Seminole spoke English as a second language. It may sound strange to some.

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The old Chief knew he was dying, in fact he wanted to. His pain was so great at times, he could do nothing but shrivel into a ball, teeth clenched, eyes fast against it, waiting for it to subside. He was lying on the forest floor, away from his village, because his people might catch a disease from him. In this way, the white man killed whole tribes.

Everyone could see his pain, because he could not hide it. In spite of it, there is one thing he must do before he dies. He must save his wife, Sailing Cloud.

He squinted, trying to focus his eyes, now too old to see well. The strong, Florida Sun gave the shimmering everglades streaks of gold on their green blades, but the old Seminole could not see the brightness or the colors. To him, all was as shadows, like the full moon over the hammock. On such nights, you could see all around you, in detail, but everything was black and white and not colors as the day.

He remembered being a boy in the Otter Lodge of the oak hammock. Some of the oak trees were so large, that the reach of a man could not circle their trunks. His grandfather told him the large oaks were here to greet the horse soldiers, who came across the "Lake With No End." He had no knowledge of these men, but he could see the oaks were very old.

When the river flooded its banks, it was the oaks that stood fast and endured, while the rapid waters would flush the hammock clean.. It was after the great floods, that the oaks would drop many leaves. His Grandfather told him it was like the warriors who would wrap their wounds in leaves, for healing.

Grandfather knew the spirit of the oaks was strong, they had the power of life in them, and neither the floods nor the Sky God could steal it from them. The skybolts would strike one of these giants down, but it would grow new branches, and a new trunk, even if lying on the forest floor.

Yes, the grip of death was not to be feared. He would make that long journeytraveled by other warriors and hunters that preceded him. There would be no pesky gnats, flies or mosquitos in that place. No sand fleas, no ticks, no deadly snakes are in that place, where The Great Spirit lives. They would not be allowed to enter, because their punishment was set out at the beginning of the world, and they would go the way of all bad things.

Once there, he would again sit by the fire with his grandfather, and Two Bears, and even Straight Fellow. They would talk long into the night of the hunts they hadshared, the forays to the white man's storehouse, and how they laughed at their pursuers trying to pass through the sawgrass. The stealthy warriors would fade away into the glades. The gators were like their brothers. They made thruways in the thick glades that his people would use. The white men knew nothing of these channels.

Sailing Cloud has been his woman for over 50 seasons, maybe more. It was hard for him to remember these things, since the sickness came over him. If he died now, she would be put out of the village on her own, to die alone in the wilderness. It is the custom of his people for widows, in a tribe that lives constantly on the edge of starvation. He hated to think of starvation, it is a terrible death, he had seen plenty of it in his time. Perhaps a wild beast, the bear or panther would come. No, he had to hold onto his spirit, until he could find a place for her, but how...where?

Second Dog By The Water came to see him that morning, early, before the sky decided its color for the day.

"I came to see if you died in the night, old man. I might get your seat on the council, but not until you give up your spirit and leave us."

The old Chief could only look up from his lair in the moss, and grunt while a sneer formed his lips.

"Why do you hang onto your pain? Do you want to live so bad? Do you have no one to escort you to the ‘Home of the Great Spirit?’ Surely, He will send a young woman to lead you to that place. After all, are you not a great Chief? You have stayed away from the white man's drink, that makes us crazy. You have beads from many great battles, the Shaman's magic bones came from your hunts. Now you have only one task left to do you honor: Give up your spirit old man. Let me take your office of leadership among our people."

The old Chief's sneer disappeared slowly from his lips, as he listened to Second Dog By The Water. Looking up, past the younger man, he could see a small flock of turkey vultures circling, probably over the remains of some fallen animal. They solemnly circled, their wings forming black Vee's against the morning sky, now a pale color, blue perhaps. His eyes no longer perceived color, so it was an imagined color to eyes that had only memories of the world about him.

Unnoticed by Second Dog, the eyes now held a hint of clarity. They betrayed an intelligence behind them, that neither the years, nor the pain could steal from the old man.

"Yes, old man, we will do all for you, as it is told in the songs. We will make a good box for you, so the carrion eaters cannot get your remains. According to our custom, we will break your rifle, your knife and your favorite eating bowl. All that served you in life will be put with you, so their spirits will go where you go."

"Agh, agh." The old Chief muttered as he cleared his throat. "You go on and on Second Dog. You make me tired with your chatter. After a time, you sound like the woodpecker beating against an old, hollow tree. If you really want me to die for your convenience, then go and fetch your mother. Bring her here so I can talk with her. With her, I will strike a bargain, so you can have my seat on the council of our tribe."

"But Grandfather, you know my mother died many seasons ago. It was just before the Green Corn Dances. Don't you remember? How can I bring her here to talk, among the living? Tell me how to do this thing, and I will; swiftly."

The old Chief did not miss the salutation of "Grandfather," a term of respect.

The old eyes became even more alert, a transition totally missed by Second Dog, who was struggling with his consternation.

"Second Dog, I can see you are confused. Is it because you do not have a mother to give you advice? If you are to be on the council, you must represent all the Human Beings, not just the men and young people such as yourself."

"Your words are true grandfather, I do not have a mother, but I do have a wife. Wouldn't that be the same?"

The old man doubled over in pain, and when it had passed, he lay still in hisposition. He could sense that Second Dog was struggling with his problem.

After a time passed, the old Chief rolled over and spoke. "You cannot get advice for the good of all women, young and old, from the lips of a wife.

Look at the eaglets in their nest. Is it the sister that teaches the young bird to fly; or is it the mother? Do not the young learn from the elder? It is so with us, and all the animals. Only the white man is different, and you see what he is like."

"You speak true words grandfather. I am sorry to have come upon you, this morning, as a wild dog. If only, I could get a mother somewhere.

You have been fortunate to have Sailing Cloud these many seasons. If I could have a mother like Sailing Cloud, I would make a home for her in my hut. I would be fortunate indeed. Then I would be a great chief in the council."

The old Chief, by a mere inflection in Second Dog’s speech, sensed victory.

The old chief let out a sigh, "Come for me in the morning. Bring your box for I will be ready for it then. Do not let the soldiers in blue find me, for they would take me away, alive or dead. They are like packs of dogs.

Know that tomorrow, I will go like an arrow that never falls, to the Great Councilof Chiefs, that sits with the Great Spirit. Someday, I will welcome you to that council.

So too, tell Sailing Cloud that she will have a home in my hut, in the "Land Beyond the Sun, the Great Spirit’s Home." "Now go, go in peace."

He thought, "Even in death there can be honor."

1.Many tribes of Native Americans gave a baby boy a name at birth, just as we do. When the boy was deemed to be a man, he was given another name more descriptive of his abilities on the hunt, or at war.