A great warrior did not return from the hunt. His family gave him up for dead, all except his youngest child who each day would ask, “Where is my father? Where is my father?”
The child’s older brothers, who were magicians, finally went forth to find him.
They came upon his broken spear and a pile of bones. The first son assembled the bones into a skeleton; the second son put flesh upon the bones; the third son breathed life
into the flesh.
The warrior arose and walked into the village where there was great celebration.
He said, “I will give a fine gift to the one who has brought me back to life.”
Each one of his sons cried out, “Give it to me, for I have done the most.”
“I will give the gift to my youngest child,” said the warrior. “For it is this child who saved my life. A man is never truly dead until he is forgotten!”
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