quote:
“Long is the way and hard, that out of Hell leads up to light.”
― John Milton, Paradise Lost
September 17th, 1880. Afternoon. The outskirts of Deadwood, Sioux Nations
some mood music
The mixed band of Cheyenne, Sioux,
Art Wiley, and
Moses make their way along the trail to Deadwood, following old paths used by the Lakota and Dakota in years past. The plains roll by, and the Black Hills grow closer and closer, rising out of the earth like giants. It's easy to see why this land is sacred.
Little Crow hunches down on his horse, glowering at everything. Walks The Night Alone rides near him, keeping a wary eye on the Ravenite. Kills Iron Horse keeps to the middle, eyes alert for danger. Moses and Art ride where they will. It is a strange flock, to be sure.
The path winds through the hills, following Whitewood creek. There's something just a little
off. The cool breeze is just a shade too cool to be comfortable, and when it dies down, the sun is just a shade too hot. The birds are strangely discordant, just slightly off-key. The shadows seem to grow longer than they should, even in the afternoon. It should be a nice day, but...it feels more like the calm before a storm.
[Language unknown: "Sa con o haoul."] Little Crow mutters.
[Language unknown: "Oseen belowhsi bleectera o."]
The closer the band comes to Deadwood, the more signs of the white man's passage is visible. Wagon ruts dig into the road. The hoofprints of shod horses and boot prints mark passage. Here and there, a broken tool or a spent shell casing lies discarded on the side of the road. Cookfires from miners in the hills rise up into the air...and, in the distance, one can hear the unmistakable wail of burning Ghost Rock from claims that were not properly ventilated and ignited.
Poles begin to line the road, each holding a rope. The purpose of these poles becomes gruesomely clear as the group passes the first miner body hanging from the poles, neck crooked, grey flesh buzzing with flies. A sign, written in crude English, says
"You are warned." Sadly, it is far from the only body strung up on the poles.
The first visible whites, however, are a troop of soldiers in blue, digging trenches and hauling felled logs. It looks like they're building some sort of earthworks. One of the men spots the approaching flock, and signals for his fellows.
A squad of six soldiers with rifles at the ready step into the path, blocking the way forward. A man with Sargent's stripes shouts
"HALT!"