The fire burned low; stars glowed overhead. Dozens of chiefs sat in a circle, quiet, contemplating. The pipe was reloaded three times with select herbs to accommodate all the attendees.
Some sat still, others swayed gently like a blade of grass in a breeze.
From within the circle, a prolonged fart.
An elderly man, lined of face and grey of hair, snickered, immediately followed by a distant horse whickering. Chuckles from various points fed an improper levity, until a grave looking elder started
howling loudly.
The Keeper of the Pipe asked her assistant, “Which herbs did you use?”
“Those.”
“Ah.”
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