On a cloudy and nippy day, Chieftain Buroogu headed for the wooded hills. The tall trees enchanted him. As he was picking his way around thorny bushes, he spotted a bunch of tiny yellow flowers next to a tree trunk. He had seen them never before. They were very small, but their color was almost piercing in the darkness of the woods. He knelt by the flowers to see them better, but they still puzzled him. “What’s your name?” he whispered. And then he picked one of the flowers and headed back to the huts. He went straight for the hut of the medicine man, Walai. “Look at this,” he opened the palm of his hand. “What’s the name of this little flower?” Walai shook his head and grinned. “These are very rare, which is why they are called the chieftain’s flowers,” he said. “But do not pick them ever again, for they are very poisonous!” He took the flower out of the chief’s hand, held it daintily by the tiny stalk, and headed for the nearby river. Buroogu followed him without a word. Walai threw the flower into the river, and then both of them washed their hands with sand. “Luckily,” the medicine man sighed, “they are so rare everyone brings them to me before doing anything with them.” The two of them chuckled and headed back to the huts.