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With the Totoma came Eagles.

As a foal he had seen one -- a sleek dark fledgling perched on a branch -- and from then on his attention was captured. He knew them to be hunters and vicious. From his mother he had learned that they were difficult to catch and tame; it had become lodged in his head that there was little more that one could dream of beyond befriending the wild predator. And as his sister-totoma grew from a runt into a strong aggressor, so, too, did he grow ever more thoughtful.

He was not a warrior and he turned away from suggestion of spilling blood or withstanding the wild charge of an opponent. Indeed he turned his face upward to the trees and the skies. He knew what he wanted to do; there was no struggle for time to reveal what it was he was meant for. And he put hoof to ground moving onward to receive his name.

Near a strong river teeming with fish there was a place that beckoned eagles. He had found them there as a foal and he returned often, bringing with him gifts of fish or rabbit to present the fierce birds. Of his family he had only told his mother of his secret place; the idea of someone harming the beasts in an ill attempt to tame them had kept him quiet. And though she did not quite understand his disinterest in taming one, she had kept his secret.

Unbeknownst to any, he had befriended one young eagle. It often landed on his curved horns or settled near his body if he rested on the ground. He knew that she had mated and laid eggs. And while her visits to him had shortened, his lengthened. The horrors of kin stealing an eagle's eggs haunted him. He had little reason to suspect a kin had wandered into the eagle breeding grounds with that exact notion planned. Except nightmares.

The morning after one such nightmare dawned warm and bright. He had ventured for the river's edge in search of a fish. One for himself and one for sure-to-be-hungry mother eagle. And as he returned, he saw it. An overlarge kimeti had approached the poorly placed nest. The tree had once been tall enough to reach the sky until a storm had cut it in half, sending it crashing sideways onto a stony ridge that cradled the large and heavy eagle nest the couple had constructed. He knew the mother had chosen the spot -- young and inexperienced she had taken the stony climb as a defense. And now it was clear that it was indeed a con, even as the buck stood on a slab lip and tried to sneak his nose into the nest.

Briefly he wished that his mother or sister were near. They were fierce and strong. But as the kimeti's mouth opened to snatch an egg -- he charged. His head dipped down and he rushed up the steep hill. He loomed over the wide-eyed kimeti, neck jutting over the exposed nest as the shrieks of eagles sounded above. If that was not terrifying enough, father and mother eagle came in a rush of wind -- their wings spread wide and their talons closed easily around the angered totoma's horns as they screamed and snapped their beaks.

The kimeti reeled back in horror, his footing lost as he toppled down to the harsh ground. As he looked up at the glowering trio, he heard the buck speak.

"Let it be known that none shall steal from Eagles-Landing," he growled. And though he meant an eagle's nest, the breeding grounds, the kimeti took it as his name and as ownership. Before promptly running off. To this day that kimeti cannot even look at an eagle without shaking.

A battle -- even a challenge -- was not the right term. Youth was much more accurate. For the young believe in immortality, invincibility. And he, well he had never thought either were real.

The clan -- it was more than three but less than eight -- that stood before him was green. They believed, falsely he might add, that the land he stood on was theirs. He had inclined to tell them he was on a journey, to the swamp, and cared not about their delusions of ownership and then the leader began to speak. And had not stopped speaking. It had gone to the reaches of ridiculousness and beyond, really.

When he could take no more words, "Famous last words are not to be proud of, whelp."

He had cowed the young ones and left them shivering in shame, fear, youth. And though he had said little, nothing compared to the clan leader, he was forever known as Famous Last Words. He, the pale totoma with plate like bones, had become a legend of sort -- all who met him eventually spoke their famous last words of youth.

It affects the children first. Their legs grow heavy and their necks start to droop. Fatigue acts like tinder as the fire catches along their nerves and seeps into their minds. It has not yet been an hour and already the foals begin to sink down into snowdrifts.

The middle aged are impatient but the elders and youth circle the young, defiant. Bellows are silenced as the tribe splinters into factions. Hot, fool blood against kind, compassionate hearts. It becomes a stand still that frustration threatens to blast into oblivion.

Impatience growls, “We must move, now!”

Defiance strikes, “Then go on without us.”

The young slip down into uneasy slumbers and eventually the tribe joins them. Tempers, however, are not tampered down nor doused after a rest. And it becomes a cycle, relentless in its attack. The ease with which it begins to break each of them is terrifying as even the most stone strong and weather worn begin to slip off the edge.

“We’ll never find a new home.”

“Just let us die here; it will take less time!”

“I can’t stand it anymore!”

“Please, let’s go.”

Eventually, the gloom hangs over them all. Morose, moody, alone even as they cluster together, their survival hangs on a thread of the finest, thinnest spider's silk. And, in the quietness, a steady stream of softness can finally be heard.

“It has been long, arduous, each hour that we travel. Simple words have revealed a much harder action. And though today is dark cast and we all feel that we are drowning, there is always tomorrow. And the promise of tomorrow is enough to keep us going another day.”

Each hour, each night, the doe repeated this mantra. Until she was known as Promise of Tomorrow. She was their sunrise, their light. And as long as she believed, so, too, would they.