by Bridget Webber

Created on: July 11, 2009   Last Updated: August 14, 2009

Deep in the woods, under the silver moon, a campfire crackled and hissed a soothing melody. The orange glow from the fire reflected onto Running Bears face, making his feathered headdress look like a halo as he knelt gazing into the flames, concentrating on every spark and ember that glowed.

Running Bear was troubled, not for himself entirely, although his concerns touched every man, women, beast and living being on the planet, including him. His worry stemmed from the negativity in the air and in the earth that came from a dark place outside himself. His father had once whispered to him a tale on a night such as this, around a crackling campfire, warning him that a dark, forbidding smoke would sweep across the sky and turn day into night, and that when this happened, only a miracle could save the world.

His mother had overheard what was being said and had told his father to stop filling Running Bears head with fear and nonsense, but Running Bear had sensed that his mother believed all that was being said, because of the sad look in her eyes.

Now, the time had come, when a dark shadow had been cast across the joy of the planet. Most people couldn't see it, but they could feel it, licking at their feet like the flames in the campfire, threatening to burn away the spirit of the people and take away their souls.

Greed had got the better of the majority of men. They had scrambled upon each other, trampling one another indiscriminately into the ground. They had lost sight of what was important in their lives and stopped listening to the birds and the wind and the heartbeat of the Earth.

Running Bear tossed some herbs into the fire, listening to the flames accepting them as payment for their wisdom. While looking into the fire he let the yellow, gold and red of the flames flicker into his spirit. Then, he let his spirit combine with the ethereal warmth and slipped inside the fire with his mind.

A wolf family gathered on a nearby hill, attracted by the presence of peace and hope coming from the campfire, hoping that Running Bear may be roasting something tasty and toss them a bone, but satisfied that even if he didn't they would still be close to something made of energy and light, no matter how dark the night had become.

Running Bear began to breath deeply and slowly to the rhythm of the soil and the energy that lay beneath and above the ground. Soon he was one with his surroundings. Every cricket that chirped sounded clear and every blade of grass that moved

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