Soul Stance River - 12

In the setting sun the Sioux Tepees look like vandalized pyramids, the Tetons themselves appear as though angels raped by the savagery of centuries yet noble in barbaric beauty and warrior ethos, a Scalp Dance is begun, torches up high on the outside a bonfire big and heavy be the center spirit, the drums awaken from the caves of ancestral courage and the voices of a thousand Mothers plead for the pride of their sons, drumbeats raise the heartbeats into the heat of glory as the rattles rake the mind with the cost of blood, warriors enter the pit with bravery to prove and fate to appease feet pound the earth and scalps shake on power rods the currency of victories swing wide and thunder smacks the stars, Afterwards, Chief Partisan presents us with squaws pretty in young passion and fertile to the touch, there is a custom of strength transfer through intercourse they desire the seed of our spirit, indulging in their spells of native kiss could leave us vulnerable to capture or even assassination we can't afford to be reckless in pleasure or mindless of morals, I am unwilling to father a hybrid pioneer amongst a probable enemy, embracing these temptresses gowned in scanty furs could even politically bind us to the Teton against their traditional adversaries, we must avoid inciting intertribal conflict at this juncture, Morning has arrived with a think fast attitude the messages between our nations is unequivocal the Teton are intractable in their belief of invincible independence, they have their arsenal, warriors, and horses, feeling that they own the thunder and the fear of their neighbors, the Chinese and New York fur markets along with taxing river passage have to date guaranteed them wealth and the British have armed them for profit, however, the arrowheads of the United States are aimed to strike their arteries and we won't stop until they bleed out into oblivion, the Sioux shenanigans have resumed as we gather up and get ready to push off, exasperated, we convince Black Buffalo that it behooves him to persuade his people to let us leave without hostilities and they do as we toss them some tobacco sticks, once on Destiny, anchor up, the southerly winds lift our vessels towards autumn's genesis, J.A.B.