The day that fire rained from the sky was a dark day, but in some ways it was just the beginning Winters are hard, we all know that But that first winter after the skies rained fire was the worst ever seen Our ancestors were freezing and starving Plants and anima ls that did not die from the fire were dying from the cold, leaving the ancestors nothin g to eat The ancestors traveled in search of food It was hard going, and they lost many along the way, but if they had remained where they were, they would surely all have died Two weeks after they set out, a sudden blizzard came upon them all One of the ancestors, the one we call “the Hunter”, got separated from the rest The swirlin g snow blinded him and the howling wind deafened him The Hunter wandered with hands outstretched, hoping to find his tribe by touch, but he could not find them Then, through the blowing snow, the Hunter thought he saw the figure of a man As he drew nearer, he saw it was not an ordinary man It was a giant It was Palbun The snow eased and he saw before Palbun stood the largest bull moose the Hunte r had ever seen The moose spoke to the Hunter “I am old,” said the moose, “and I lived a good life I sired many children Palbun told me of your people’s plight I give you my body, ” said the moose, “take it and feed your people.” The Hunter thanked the moose for his sacrifice He raised his bow and notche d an arrow With one shot the moose fell His spirit went with Palbun, and his flesh remained with the Hunter Then, as suddenly as it began, the blizzard stopped The Hunter saw the other ancestors no more than a stone’s throw away That night the ancestors feasted on the meat from the noble moose, but howev er much they ate, there seemed to always be more It was truly a gift from the great Palbun, and it gave the ancestors strength to survive that winter The ancestors knew this was a holy place, and that is why we gather here every year, to give thanks to Palbun, and to celebrate the gift he gave us all those years ago He has given us many things: the gift of the axe, the gift of the tree But this was the most precious: the gift of survival -Freya Erdrich, Story Keeper of the Santloose Band of the Axe Tribe