This story began in August 2007 while my family was on one of our cross country road trips.

We had decided to break for camp in the badlands of the Theodore Roosevelt National Park in North Dakota.

That night I had a very long detailed dream about a stone buffalo and rider.

I dreamt the entire story I'm about to tell from its absolute beginning to its bitter end. I have not changed a thing, and it is written as it was shown to me in Plains Indian storytelling fashion.

The following morning there was fresh buffalo dung outside of our tent, so I know for certain there was at least a buffalo outside that night. If the buffalo was accompanied by a spirit, I'll never know for sure.

Since the Stone Buffalo story was given to me I can't quite claim it as my own, nor can it be claimed by any man who walks the earth.

Stone Buffalo Man might just be a legend in the making as his spirit demands.

So begins his story starting with his original human channel, Chief Always Smoke....

Over a hundred years ago when the people grew weary of their battle to preserve the old ways, Chief Always Smoke had a vision of a stone buffalo and rider.

He said the stone buffalo rider blew a white dust from his hand, and when the cloud settled Chief Always Smoke saw a herd of buffalo gathered on the horizon.

The rider told him to tell the people that they should not hold hate in their hearts, and that many years would pass but one day the people will live freely on the plains again.

Then he offered Chief Always Smoke his story to pass on to future generations to give them hope.

This is the original story that The Stone Buffalo Man gave to Chief Always Smoke:

Long before battles with white men...

two young brothers named Chasing Fog and Lame Heart  listened closely as their mother told them about the end of the world.

They huddled together by a small fire that shot up in a yellow flame, and to the boys delight, the mellow glow got caught in their mother's shiny black hair and danced around it while she spoke.

"Inside a hidden cave, the black dog watches." Their mother said with wide eyes. "He watches and waits for the old woman to put down the blanket strip she's been decorating for thousands of years with porcupine quills. He knows that soon the old woman will have to go gather more quills to finish her work, and when she leaves, he will steal some of the quills already in place. He does this, every chance he gets."

Lame Heart gasped, "But how will the old woman finish if he does that?"

His brother groaned. Chasing Fog had already heard this story. "Will you grow up to be nothing but a fool? It is the black dog's purpose, Lame Head."

Mother stoked the fire and waited for Lame Heart to defend himself, but he did not, so she continued, "One day, the old woman will finish her blanket strip because one day, the big black dog will choke and die on his stolen prizes. And when the old woman's blanket is finished, that is the day the world will end."

Lame Heart spoke quietly, afraid his question would be mocked again, "Does the dog eat porcupine quills?"

Chasing Fog listened closely out of curiosity.

"No," mother said, "The quills are really the spirits of human beings. It's said that once you pass through to the other side, you will never return from the land of the dead."

"That's Death?" said Chasing Fog who was doubled over laughing, "Passing through the bowels of a dog?"

Mother gently covered Chasing Fog's mouth. "It is an honor to return to the earth and be reborn in the wind and soil, but if you foul the body in such a way that the earth mother would reject it, all memory of that person's existence will be wiped out."

The boys' jaws hung low in disbelief until mother smiled and pushed them off to play awhile before bed.

Chasing Fog was always running after things impossible to catch, this made Chasing Fog strong, but cruel.

Lame Heart was always sick, so he sat around a lot and waited for things to come to him. Even rabbits didn't fear him; this made Lame Heart weak, but kind.

In the village there was also a girl named Spirit Song. Ever since she was a baby, her cries came in rhythm like the songs of our ancestors. The elders told her father to name her Spirit Song, so that everyone in the village would know that she was special, and not to be harmed or frightened in any way, or else her song would be wasted on carelessness.

Of course, by the time Chasing Fog had grown into a strong and brave young man with many buffalo skins to prove his skill as a hunter, the idea of taking Spirit Song as a sorceress wife consumed his mind with possibilities, so he pursued her without shame.

However, Spirit Song already had her mind set on another man, but she could not get rid of her present suitor. For years, Chasing Fog haunted her every move. He even followed her when she went to the river to bathe.

Finally, when Spirit Song had enough of Chasing Fog's relentless pursuit, she decided to humiliate his determination from him.

One day as she sat among her friends sewing a pair of moccasins, she let out a long loud sigh.

Her friends looked at her nervously, worried that she might soon break into tears.

Chasing Fog was on the situation in a flash.

"Spirit Song, have you hurt yourself?" he asked.

"No," she replied coyly, "It's just that this hide is so rough. I don't have the strength it takes to make softer suede. I'm afraid these moccasins will be very hard on my feet."

"I will make you a hide as soft as your skin," Chasing Fog boasted, "Let me touch your cheek, so I will know what real softness feels like."

Spirit Song's lashes fell gently over her eyes. She tilted her head and offered Chasing Fog a whisper of her flesh. All she felt was the wind as Chasing Fog took off in a hurry.

Everyone had a good laugh at his expense. Chasing Fog's wild eyed stare, and outreached trembling hand made him look like a prairie dog under coyote's paw. His arrogance had been clearly halted by Spirit Song's charm.

That same night, Spirit Song was walking across the moonlit prairie to celebrate her freedom when she realized that she was still not alone.

From the depths of a coulee came a voice singing a song she knew. It was a healing song, but it didn't come from any familiar medicine man. She followed it to the edge of the great drop, yet found nothing.

Her voice rose up to join the tune, and as she did, it became obvious where to follow it.

The song led her down the slope to a nearby stream where she found Lame Heart sitting on the dry bank with a bull calf resting its head on his lap while he sang.

Lame Heart caught Spirit Song's gaze, but he continued to sing. Only when their song was finished did they dare speak.

"He's been injured by a stray arrow and the wound is infected," Lame Heart told her, "It's said that you are a sorceress. Can you heal him?"

Spirit Song placed one hand over the wound, then took Lame Heart's hand and placed it over hers, and together, they sang the healing song.

The night had become dark after the moon slipped over the horizon. The bull calf struggled to his feet, and walked away like he had never been wounded.

"Thank you, Spirit Song," he will be fine now." Lame Heart said, "We can go."

He started to get up to leave, but he was stopped because Spirit Song had his arm. He could see she had the usual look of wanting in her eyes, but his brother had claimed her. Lame Heart didn't want to get involved, so he pulled away.

"Lame Heart, why don't you like me?" she asked. Her eyes started to fill with pools that sparkled in the starlight. "You have always touched me with your kindness. Together we will bring magic to the people. Please take me as a wife."

"Chasing Fog is strong. I can't give you the fine things you deserve," Lame Heart said without owning his words. "You will be my brother's wife. I will not stand in his way."

Spirit Song did not cry. She walked away quietly singing the song of healing to mend her own broken heart.

At the top of the hill, Chasing Fog sat hidden by shadow. His anger grew from his belly, and settled in his throat where he kept it trapped. Spirit Song had given away her love, and he knew she would never really be his, even if he stole her away from home.

Lame Heart always waited, and in time, everything Chasing Fog ever wanted eventually ended up in the hands of his brother. This enraged Chasing Fog even more. He went off to settle the matter with vengeance.

Chasing Fog spent the rest of that night tracking down the bull calf, and in his fury he slaughtered the beast in the ancient way. He cut the calf's jaw from its head and butchered it with its own bones.

By sunrise, Chasing Fog bloody from scraping the calf's flesh from its hide, made his way to the river to clean and prepare the skin as an offering to his future bride.

Over the next few weeks, Lame Heart was becoming worried for his brother. Chasing Fog had become all but a ghost during the day, and only late at night would he hear his brother return home to sleep.

"Chasing Fog," he would whisper, so as not to wake their mother, "Where do you go?"

Chasing Fog did not answer, and by morning he would be gone again.

Then one day while the people gathered around the meeting spot to plan a hunting trip, Chasing Fog silently took his place next to Lame Heart and his mother.

The crowd had lost its focus on the hunt discussion. Their eye were on Chasing Fog who carried with him a golden buffalo hide so soft and yielding that it molded to the curves of his powerful thighs.

Swift River, the head of the hunting party, was getting impatient by the crowd's sway of interest.

"Chasing Fog," he called out, "You have been like a ghost for a long time, and now you return to the people with this fine skin that draws attention. Do you have something to say?"

Chasing Fog stood and held the skin high for all to see, "This is my gift for Spirit Song, so that she might notice my feelings for her. I ask her to come willingly when I bring gifts for her father. Then we can make a home together."

Chasing Fog laid the hide across Spirit Song's lap.

She looked over to Lame Heart who withdrew from her gaze. She knew his heart would not allow him to steal from his brother.

So, Spirit Song took Chasing Fog's hand, placed it on her warm cheek, and nodded her acceptance while the crowd sang to their coupling.

All was going well in Chasing Fog's favor until Spirit Song brought the hide home, and opened it.

There was a small imperfection where a stray arrow had pierced the bull calf's shoulder. She envisioned Chasing Fog watching her and Lame Heart sing over the calf. This was Chasing Fog's cruel side mocking them.

Backing out of a proposal for such a trivial game was not acceptable, and would bring shame to her family, but... if she could get Chasing Fog to strike her, causing her to cry, the entire band would forbid their union.

That night Spirit Song stayed up and made her own gift. The old laws tell that gifts are never to be rejected, but they can be passed on to someone in need.

When the sun rose, the people gathered to follow the hunting party who had spotted a heard of buffalo not far from the village.

Chasing Fog, energized by his happiness, was eager to begin the hunt, so he was helping the women and children gather the dogs, and hook them up to the travois' hoping they could move along faster.

Lame Heart was taking a short rest nearby. He had been up early to assemble all the spears and horses for the hunters, but he would not join them today. His chest was thick with water from yet another illness. Still, he would do what he could to help the women butcher the animals.

As he tried to catch his breath, Spirit Song approached him with a shirt made out of the golden hide given to her by his brother. He deliberately turned his back to her.

"Chasing Fog," Spirit Song cried out, "I have made this shirt as a gift for your brother. The wind is blowing cold on the prairie this season, and Lame Heart needs to stay warm, or sickness will follow him."

She could feel the force of the storm gathering in Chasing Fog's chest. She could feel it even through the crowd of women and dogs that separated them. He would strike for certain.

With the public announcement, Lame Heart had to accept her gift. He pulled the shirt over his head and ran from his brother's sight to spare him the pain of seeing him.

Chasing Fog seized his emotion, and went back to his work without a word, leaving Spirit Song to stand alone on the subject.

Yet that day, Chasing Fog's contained anger went into his spears as he took down six buffalo, each with only one jab straight to the heart. Once he had broken all of his spears doing this, he chased after the other hunters, and gladly finished off their fallen prey.

When the hunt wore down, Chasing Fog found his horse and rode back to where the women and his young brother prepared the meat for moving. He stunned them all because in his hand he held a prized buffalo heart usually eaten on the scene by victorious hunters.

"Lame Heart, my brother," he said standing above him, "You will help me prepare for my new life with Spirit Song. We will leave the village tonight. This heart is for you. It will make you strong for the journey."

Chasing Fog tossed the still warm heart to his brother who smiled freely even though the action had sprayed blood across his new shirt.

When the sun was gone from the sky, the brothers set out south on horses.

Chasing Fog told Lame Heart that they were going to find rare stones far away near the boiling pools of the high country.

After a night and day of moving, they rested near a low burning fire.

They passed a short time recalling the stories of their youth. The brothers had some good laughs at their old antics, and became quiet with the memories of lost friends and loved ones over the years.

"Do you remember mother's story about the end of the world?" Chasing Fog asked.

"I remember you said I would grow up to be a fool," Lame Heart moped.

"Don't worry little brother, give it some time."

They both burst out laughing.

Chasing Fog got serious again, "How do you think somebody could foul a body so bad that the earth would reject it and wipe out that person's existence?"

Lame Heart felt proud that he knew the answer. He thought about such things while he sat around catching his breath.

"You die with hate in your heart. No one wants to remember hate. So, if you die with it, the earth will reject your spirit, and you will be quickly forgotten by the people," Lame Heart answered.

"That's what I thought, little brother." Chasing Fog lay back on the ground. "Let's rest now. If you want, tomorrow I will show you the mourning cave. It spits smoke and moans."

"I would like that," Lame Heart replied. He went to sleep glad there was peace between them on this journey.

By noon the next day, they had made it to the mourning cave and Chasing fog was right. It spit smoke, and from deep in its throat came a low pitched, but loud moan.

Lame Heart had never traveled to the place of boiling pools. He was completely entranced by the blue and green colors more brilliant than he had ever seen, and now, a wailing cave. He perched himself on the edge of the cliff that led to the cave. Below, a deep pool of boiling water created a steam that warmed his tired feet.

"Thank you brother, I will always carry this memory, but I would rather not remember the stink of this place. What is..." Lame Heart was interrupted by a rumbling under the ground that almost tossed him into the boiling pool.

Lame heart looked over to Chasing Fog who was far away in thought, "Hey, the ground really does move here."

Chasing Fog offered his brother a hand up, and the two stood face to face, so close that they could feel each other's breath.

Lame Heart felt a burning behind his brother's stare, so he asked, "What's wrong, brother?"

"Spirit Song will always want for you Lame Heart, but it will be me that goes to her each night, and it will me who fathers her children, you will be forgotten."

Lame Heart was at first stunned, but then, for the first time in his life, he felt anger. He had done all that he could do to honor his brother. For years he had pushed Spirit Song away and kept his feelings hidden to show his loyalty, and now ... Lame Heart turned to leave.

Chasing Fog shouted, "Are you so weak that you can't even fight with words?"

Chasing Fog spat at Lame Heart's feet.

Lame Heart blind with rage, freed his knife from its belt and went after Chasing Fog.

As Lame Heart ran toward him, Chasing Fog stepped aside, exposing a stone on the path. Lame Heart hit it, and was airborne. He landed in the deep pool of boiling water, and the cave moaned.

Chasing Fog could not bring himself to look toward his screaming brother, but he could not help hearing his throat fill with boiling water that cooked his flesh, and drowned out his cries.

Within minutes, Lame Heart and his calf hide shirt, were no more. It was time to return to the village, and find out if Lame Heart was truly gone for good.

A few days later, Chasing Fog rode home on his horse with an empty mount trailing behind him. The first man he encountered was Swift River.

"Why would you take two ponies on your journey?" Swift River said angrily, "You only need one."

"I was hoping to catch Spirit Song's father a bear from the high country," was Chasing Fog's answer.

Swift River waved him off, without asking about Lame Heart, so Chasing Fog continued home.

When he got to his mother's teepee, he found her outside making pemmican with some of the buffalo meat that had been dried.

"My son!" she said happily, "You can take this with you when you go to get Spirit Song. She likes my recipe. I made it nice and sweet."

"Yes mother, thank you," Chasing Fog replied. He went into the tepee to look for Lame Heart's sleeping blanket and other things, but it was like his brother never existed.

He smiled, and headed out to find Spirit Song. At last she would be completely his, because he had succeeded in wiping out the memory of his brother with ancient magic.

Spirit Song was at the river splashing and playing with her friends. Taking advantage of the days before she would become a wife, but then she saw Chasing Fog.

It was when the vision came to her. She heard the wavering cries of Lame Heart as he struggled to breathe, and she could see his fear and pain as death pulled him under the boiling water to claim his life.

Spirit Song stumbled through the water, sat down on the muddy bank, and cried.

Her cries traveled across the village past the elders who remembered the few times they heard the girl's ancestral song.

Her spirit song was picked up by the breeze and carried to the morning cave where the big black dog's ears perked.

The old woman was off gathering quills and this was his moment, but the song had distracted him. He missed a single quill, and it dropped to the floor. The big black dog sat and listened intently to the melodic cry.

When the dog's old woman returned, he wagged his tail, sending the quill far into the shadows of the cave where it would remain until the end of the world.

Outside the cave, smoke belched, the boiling waters churned, and in one great leap out of the cauldron jumped a large bull buffalo sleek, white, and stone, baring the scar of a wound once healed by compassion.

The massive animal shook, and freed the sprays of blood that had tarnished its stone coat. Behind him, a human hand reached over the edge of the cliff, and up climbed Lame Heart.

He too, was transformed by his journey from death's doorway at the mouth of the big black dog. The struggle to return from the land of spirits had changed Lame Heart's once thin and weak body, into a stone clad figure, as firm and handsome as any fine warrior.

But his heavy stone heart had sealed in his hate, and now, he was compelled to seek retribution.

He climbed up the buffalo's back, and together, they rode fast to the north.

Chasing Fog heard the stone buffalo's thundering stride from far across the prairie.

Spirit Song had told him what was coming. Still, he waited patiently in his newly set up teepee. No man can hide from the dead. He knew he would have to face this enemy now, or run forever.

From the edge of the village, Chasing Fog now heard cries of terror from both women and men as they fled from the spirit rider, but when the stone buffalo slowed to a walk, the screaming stopped, and the people withdrew into their teepees.

No one dared to look at the stone buffalo and rider. It was apparent they were there not to destroy the village. They were looking for someone.

The stone buffalo took a few shuffling strides, and came to halt in front of Chasing Fog's teepee. Lame Heart slid off his hulking mount. When his feet hit the ground, the earth shook.

Chasing Fog sat solid and brave on the floor, wrapped in his buffalo robe as he watched a stone hand pull the door flap aside.

In walked the hardened sprit who once was his brother.

"Brother!" Lame Heart said in a voice that shook the air, "As you can see, I am reborn. I am now Stone Buffalo Man. You did not succeed in wiping me out."

"No," Chasing Fog replied with a smug smile, "Have you come here to kill me?"

Stone Buffalo Man laid his hand over his heart, and aired his grievance, "Because of you, my hate is sealed forever. I have nothing to lose by killing you."

Chasing Fog shouted, "Spirit Song! Come out of the shadows, and see what my brother has become."

Spirit Song stepped into the light. She knew neither magic, nor tears, could help Stone Buffalo Man, yet, tears fell silently down her cheeks.

She spoke quietly as she went forward, and grasped Stone Buffalo Man's ridged hand, "Do not kill Chasing Fog. He will be punished."

Stone Buffalo Man's cold colorless eyes glared back at her.

"Please!" she pleaded, "Chasing Fog, and I are the only two people who remember you. If you kill him, his memory of you will die with him, and I will forget because I don't want to remember you with such hate. Then you will be wiped out forever."

Stone Buffalo Man's heart was not so strong that it could seal out Spirit Song's sorrow. Even though his heart of stone was damaged by hate, he could still leave the teepee with Spirit Song's love unbroken.

This time Stone Buffalo Man did not allow hate to rule him. He walked away.

Spirit Song followed, "You belong to the mourning cave. We will go there together."

Stone Buffalo Man did not protest this time. He climbed up his mount, and lifted Spirit Song behind him. Together, they rode on to begin a new life in the middle world.

Years later, Spirit Song's prediction came true. Chasing Fog was punished. The people had shunned him for bringing an angry spirit to the village, so eventually he moved to the place of boiling pools, and dug a shelter in a hill just outside the mourning cave.

Now, he watches and waits for the smoke clear in front of the cave. It's when the old woman comes out to collect spirits carried on the wind in the form of porcupine quills.

With the smoke gone, Chasing Fog can see inside the cave, and catch treasured glimpses of Spirit Song who now helps work quills into the blanket strip.

In the background, Stone Buffalo Man teaches their children the old ways until the days he will lead people through trials of hardship, one of many test he will help the people endure before the end of the world.

But such matters don't concern Chasing Fog. To this day, he sits still, and watches, and waits. He doesn't notice that time has passed. He has actually been sitting there everyday for more than a century.

And he will be doing that for a very long time, because Spirit Song refuses to work his spirit into the blanket strip. Long ago, she braided the quill into her hair. When Chasing Fog gives up the chase, she will set him free.