12-26-2010, 06:17 PM
OOC: Sorry this is so long... Okay, this is an Apache story. Fox and Coyote are sometimes interchangeable, and there's more than 60 Coyote stories in my book of Apache myths. 0_0 I picked one that involved fire. Also... Nian talks in run-on sentences. Sorry about that.
Nian nodded at the deal. "Sounds fair to me." Smiling, he settled into a more comfortable position to listen to her story.
As he listened to her words, he found his eyes intermittently drawn between the fire and Ralla. Even though the story was simply told, the sing-song chant and the warm crackle of the fire created a soothing atmosphere. He could imagine Raven flying too close to the golden flames and singeing his feathers in the billowing smoke... Hooting and Horned with their white-rimmed eyes, Screech with his red... The weaving smoke was like Water Spider's black hair. He smiled as Ralla told the end of the tale, and turned back attentively as she spoke the final message. When he was sure that she was done, he smiled.
"I'd never heard that story before... Thank you. I like it better than the one I was told. It makes fire sound more like a gift than an accident." Winking mischievously, he explained, "The way I learned it, Fox stole fire from the fireflies, but he burned himself, and as he ran away, he scattered sparks from it all over the world. My mother used to tell me these stories, then make fun of me and tell me I was just like Fox--always asking too many questions and ending up in trouble"
He thought for a moment, then leaned forward and started into his own story: "Here, I'll tell you what I mean... One day Fox was walking along, when he met Deer and her little fawns. Admiring their lovely white spots he asked her, 'How did your children get such beautiful colors?' She told him that they had been born that way, but Fox could not believe that deer born with white spots would lose them as adults, and so he kept asking until she told him a story. She said that she placed them next to a cedar fire, and the sparks made white spots on their coats. Now, Fox, he wanted his own children to have white spots like Deer's fawns, so he made a big fire and put his children next to it. When their coats stayed the same color, he thought that maybe they needed more heat, so he pushed his children in the fire. After a while, he saw white spots gleaming from the coals, so he took them out, thinking they would be very beautiful -- but when he did he saw that the white was the white of his dead children's bones. Fox was so sad and angry that he surrounded Deer and her fawns in a circle of fire, but the Deer family were the best leapers and jumped over them. All Fox could do was cry his frustration, and that's why now when he howls he sounds like he's angry.
"I'm not sure what the moral of that is..." He grinned at her. "Maybe it's that you shouldn't believe everything you hear, or maybe that vanity is dangerous. Or maybe not to ask the same questions too many times."
Nian nodded at the deal. "Sounds fair to me." Smiling, he settled into a more comfortable position to listen to her story.
As he listened to her words, he found his eyes intermittently drawn between the fire and Ralla. Even though the story was simply told, the sing-song chant and the warm crackle of the fire created a soothing atmosphere. He could imagine Raven flying too close to the golden flames and singeing his feathers in the billowing smoke... Hooting and Horned with their white-rimmed eyes, Screech with his red... The weaving smoke was like Water Spider's black hair. He smiled as Ralla told the end of the tale, and turned back attentively as she spoke the final message. When he was sure that she was done, he smiled.
"I'd never heard that story before... Thank you. I like it better than the one I was told. It makes fire sound more like a gift than an accident." Winking mischievously, he explained, "The way I learned it, Fox stole fire from the fireflies, but he burned himself, and as he ran away, he scattered sparks from it all over the world. My mother used to tell me these stories, then make fun of me and tell me I was just like Fox--always asking too many questions and ending up in trouble"
He thought for a moment, then leaned forward and started into his own story: "Here, I'll tell you what I mean... One day Fox was walking along, when he met Deer and her little fawns. Admiring their lovely white spots he asked her, 'How did your children get such beautiful colors?' She told him that they had been born that way, but Fox could not believe that deer born with white spots would lose them as adults, and so he kept asking until she told him a story. She said that she placed them next to a cedar fire, and the sparks made white spots on their coats. Now, Fox, he wanted his own children to have white spots like Deer's fawns, so he made a big fire and put his children next to it. When their coats stayed the same color, he thought that maybe they needed more heat, so he pushed his children in the fire. After a while, he saw white spots gleaming from the coals, so he took them out, thinking they would be very beautiful -- but when he did he saw that the white was the white of his dead children's bones. Fox was so sad and angry that he surrounded Deer and her fawns in a circle of fire, but the Deer family were the best leapers and jumped over them. All Fox could do was cry his frustration, and that's why now when he howls he sounds like he's angry.
"I'm not sure what the moral of that is..." He grinned at her. "Maybe it's that you shouldn't believe everything you hear, or maybe that vanity is dangerous. Or maybe not to ask the same questions too many times."