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If you have never wept bitter tears because a wonderful story has come to an end and you must take your leave of the characters with whom you have shared so many adventures, whom you have loved and admired, for whom you have hoped and feared, and without whose company life seems empty and meaningless –
and often it was not the hunted but the hunter who lost his life. The Greenskins loved and honored the purple buffaloes and held that only those willing to be killed by them had the right to kill them.
As someone who is lakota… this representation is something else. I love it and hate it at the same time. Because it’s very stereotypical BUT it’s also nice to see some thing about us in a book. I think it’s not making fun of our culture at all and actually I’m pretty sure the author did a really good job with it.
but a long purple-red cloak, evidently woven from buffalo hair, hung from his shoulders. His long blue-black hair was gathered together and held back by leather thongs.
‘All the men and women together. That’s why they called me Atreyu, which in our language means “Son of All"!’
Each of the following nights he dreamed something of the sort. He got closer and closer to the same purple buffalo – he recognized him by a white spot on his forehead – but for some reason he was never able to shoot the deadly arrow.
Desperately Atreyu pulled at the bridle, but the horse sank deeper and deeper. When only his head emerged from the black water, Atreyu took it in his arms. ‘I’ll hold you, Artax,’ he whispered.
‘The human world is full of weak-minded people, who think they’re as clever as can be and are convinced that it’s terribly important to persuade even the children that Fantastica doesn’t exist. Maybe they will be able to make good use of you.’

