The tribe walked on eggshells with the pale faces, used as pawns in a game they didn’t understand. Dark Star fleeing into their arms was something Chief Red Hawk had not foreseen. If they made the wrong move now… No, he wouldn’t think of it.
He stirred the embers of the firepit, “John is not happy with the amount of scalps we brought. He accused me of being soft.” The chief glowered at the flickering flames, “If he wants more scalps, then that is what we will give him...but he will eat his own words. This, I swear.”
“What do you intend to do?” An older warrior traced the ground with a stick.