My name was Old Buffalo Bull. I lived near the eastern side of the Canadian Rockies of a much acclaimed tribe.

It was my aged duty to teach Young Buffalo Bull his duty, for my time to die had come. And so, when it is his time to die, he will know how it is done. He will know what to do, and why.

Our tribe has been doing this – dying this way – for eons. Dying was a useful death. I lay down and waited. Young Buffalo Bull stood, watching, and waited with me.

We have a pact with our pack of wolves. We neither love nor hate each other. Neither are we indifferent.

From a great distance Chief Wolf caught my eye. He knew – we both knew – it was my time. He raced – and we both raced – to our destiny.

I died. The wolf pups shall live; so mine, too, can live. I had run a long course and protected my tribe.

“Death, oh death, where is thy sting?” We taught man this knowledge.

Old Buffalo Bull and Tortussa are some of the real people.

Epilogue: Believers of good and evil, you do not know us. You might think of use and yourself if you would only learn to see.

Sixty million of my kind slaughtered to near extinction because of hate and profit.

There is no profit; we neither hate you nor love you.