Listen my son and I will tell you of the great herds of our ancestors, in the time before the yellow haired gods ruled our lands. Your great great great grandfather walked the lands of the north and lived the ways of our elders. In those days, to prove himself a man, a young warrior needed to walk the great herds. You have seen the long necked birds from the cold north called geese. They are common even today but, in the days of our fathers, the Canada Goose roamed the plains in herds of enormous size. As they moved from one grazing ground to another, their shadows darkened the ground from sunrise to sunset without break.
It was one of these herds that the young warrior must walk within. Approaching the geese from downwind, the boy would walk quietly among the big birds looking for the largest of them all. Once found, the warrior must pluck a single feather from the bird's tail feathers. Silence and patience were the key to the Young man's success. If the birds became startled, they would begin to run over the grasses in a huge stampede. The mass of startled and angry birds would run for hours, until exhaustion took them and forced them to collapse. All the while, they would trample anything in their path, including the warrior.
The stampedes of Time have trampled the great herds and they are no more. Also gone are most of the traditions so revered by our ancestors. In my dreams, the herds still rome and I am a young warrior on the verge of becoming a man. I walk the herds in my dreams… feather in my hand.