a short story from a past life i found myself in.
i was the strongest warrior in a sioux tribe, north dakota, i had taken many scalps from the white man, killed many men, had many wives and children, i knew no fear and i was the chiefs son, next in line to lead the tribe. everyone knew this, the council of elders knew it, the women knew it and the children knew it. 
i had returned from a hunting expedition, the sun was sinking and as i rode into the village perimeter i saw the smoke rising from the council teepee that stood in the centre of the village. as i rode towards it i could feel something was not right, the wind blew a gentle spring breeze and i could smell the burning flesh of rabbit. a child ran towards me, from his mothers arms, 'mission, mission, there is a wolf,' he called, 'it's circling the village.'
when i entered the council were in deep contemplation, passing the pipe and all waiting for my father to speak. the medicine woman was in a trance but she gestured me to sit down.
'three moons,' father said, 'we must wait three moons.'
'why wait father, the wolf is alone, i can kill it.' i said filled with a young man's pride.
'sit mission my son, tell us how you hunted?'
i sat down and showed them the beasts i carried, a pig and many rabbits. 'father i can kill the wolf, i will ride out again, and i will kill the beast.'
'no.' father said in his strong commanding voice. 
'why?'
'we will send your brother after three days?'
'my brother is a hunter, i am a warrior, killing wolves is a warriors task.'
my brother kept silent.
'father i can do this.'
the medicine woman opened her eyes, 'the beast will depart in three moons and it must be the hunter that hunts the wolf, the warrior must lead the tribe.'
'keep silent medicine woman,' i said, 'you cannot stop me.'
'i can my son,' father said, 'now speak no more.'
my head straightened and i rose, standing tall above the elders, i spat into the fire and walked out.
the next day we had lost many chickens, taken in the night. the track marks were from the wolf, leading into the forest.
i saddled up and rode into the morning.
it took me three days, three nights to find the wolf, a big beast with deep red fire for eyes. i followed the tracks, he had left, paw prints, droppings, carcasses from his own feeding, i followed his howl. 
i shot the beast through the heart with my arrow, it left a short trail of blood until it fell and then in traditional sioux way i blessed it's spirit as it passed. i cut it's skin from it's body and threw it across my horse. it took me two moons to get back to the village, but by the time i got there it dawned upon me what had occurred.
the elders, my father, had met again, they had decided that it would be unwise to leave a tribe to a man so filled with such pride. they concluded it would be akin to suicide for the whole tribe, so they had packed everything and left. they left nothing. not a trace.
the weight of my pride hit me, it stayed with me for the rest of my days, as i searched in vain for remaining members, but they had disappeared.
humility is strength. 
never forget.