“You are a man. A member of our warrior tribe." His father’s words still coursed through his veins.

It was 20 years ago that the soldiers brought in their iron machines to bring civilization to his people and break their fighting spirit. The boys were no longer taught the Way of the Warrior, and all weapons outlawed. The Chief and tribal council had become pawns to lead his people down the path of tyranny and slavery. What had once been a race of proud warriors was now just a group of penniless farmers whose lands were slowly being beaten away from them and given to foreign settlers.

The Great Spirit had come to him in a dream, and he was shown the role he would play in the Time of Change. He knew as he kneeled over the Chieftain’s lifeless body that he was the one to lead his people. He stood up from the filleted corpse and stared at the faces gawking around him. His father’s words echoed from him, “Take his skin, his weapons, his valuables, and his place. What was his is now yours by rite of combat.”