Prologue:
An Elder, Keeper of Stories, sat in the circle of young people. A fire crackled and popped in the center of the lodge, casting shadows that seemed to be alive themselves. She spoke quietly, but her voice was powerful and gentle at the same time. As she began, the listeners leaned in to catch every word and gesture, as her hands seemed to help weave the story as she spoke.
"This story is told in whispers among the Grassland People, when it is told at all. The River People tell it with a dignified touch of pride. Perhaps more than a touch.
Both communities contributed to the great deeds that were done, both contributed a key player to the events. The secret lies in the honor, and lack of it, that certain persons brought to the front when evil walked up on them. A man, or woman, is remembered for their doing. Those who do nothing are best forgotten, as that is what they have earned.
A tall man, who is remembered, starts out at one end of a trail. A tall woman, nearly as tall as the man, who is also remembered, starts out at a far place on the same trail. This story happened between, and at both ends, and so it begins..."
