(as told at Tall Tales and Epic Fables)
There was a land that was sumptuous and vibrant. All manner of beasts made their home there, amongst forests and brightly hued flora. Mountains and hills rose above lush valleys and life teemed and overflowed. The Blessing of the Earth Mother was abundant and all rejoiced.
Hunters would go out and return before An’she reached the height of his travels, and those that fished or gathered herbs and vegetables carried baskets full to bursting back to the village each day.
Every night was a feast with tribes coming together and celebrating their good fortune. And every night there was food left uneaten, and all present would sleep sated and without care… all but one.
One Elder told stories to any who would listen, about a land of dearth and neglect. A land that was so barren that it was called An’she’s tears. The elder claimed that the land had been opulent and game and all manner of vegetables and fruits abundant, enough for all the tribes. But no one cherished the blessing of the Earth Mother. They said no blessing and thanked her not.
And because they wasted what was given, the blessing ran dry and the vegetation died, and trees wilted. The trees grew so barren that the light of An’she scorched the earth with nothing to block his rays. The scorched land could not sustain the wildlife, and the rivers and lakes began to heat up and become less, causing even more beasts to perish from lack of refreshing drink.
Soon, there were no animals, no fruits, no vegetables and even grain struggled to rise from the ground, and the once plentiful Tribes dwindled until only a few were left struggling to survive.
As An’she passed overhead each day, he shed great tears, but the tears dried up before they could even touch the scorched earth. And the Earth Mother suffered in agony unable to be refreshed and renewed, but also saddened by her children’s refusal to care.
However, no one gave heed to the words of the Elder…. and soon there were few left who cried tears at their loss; no longer able to gorge themselves, their tears were only for themselves and not for the Earth Mother.
Finally, the Elder could speak no more, and none were listening, and he departed the village, his tears the only water in the torn land, and as he walked, he continued to thank the Earth Mother, though none could hear the words between his parched lips.
He walked and walked, his tears continuing to fall, and such love he had for the Earth Mother touched Her heart and his tears reached Her and began to nourish Her. He never thought of himself and She brought him safely out of that land and his tears began to pool on the ground and not sink down, forming streams, then rivers, and then lakes.
And other Shu’halo, who had thought all was lost soon found their way to the Elder and he made sure they did not forget, telling them tales each night by the fire and guiding them to only take what they needed under the light of An’she. And thus, was the Rivermane Tribe born and blessed with abundance in their lands.
And now you have learned a Rivermane tale, and a tale of why there are Elders, … and why we tell tales by the fire.