Having lost my loincloth in my last encounter I am as naked as some of the Crows. Apart from my hair and war paint I could pass as a Crow. So I undo my braided hair and try to alter my war paint as best I can to appear, at first sight, a Crow.
As I continue my journey through Crow territory I can see the figure of a Crow lookout silhouetted against the skyline on a tree lined hill. I cannot risk him spotting me crossing open ground so I decide to take him out. I approach his position cautiously, crawling on my belly until I reach the cover of the trees and then work my way, tree to tree towards him. I am now very close and can see he is a young brave, maybe three summers younger than me. My sight lingers on his completely naked war painted body and I find myself admiring his lithe physique. His prominent painted cheekbones making him look savagely handsome.
Just as I stealthily pass between the trees he turns and sees me, yet he remains calm and even beckons me over to him. Realising he mistakes me for a Crow I exploit this opportunity but as soon as I am near I Suddenly rush forward at him, knocking him against a tree. I grab the lookout and I know that not only is this brave young, he is also inexperienced. Being this close the young brave can now see I am not Crow but Cheyenne and I see surprise turn to fear in his brown eyes.
I stop his hand from grasping his knife and push him up against the tree and use my body firmly against his to prevent him getting away. I hold the tip of my knife just inside his deep belly button which makes him squirm and try to flex his belly away from it. I can feel the warmth of his flexing greased body and his naked manhood against mine. Then he says, “Cheyenne not kill Wacochi, Wacochi let Cheyenne get away.” I know I should push my blade into his taught abdominals and guts as he is my enemy and would surely kill me if he could but I don’t know what prevents me from doing it. Then, as he squirms more against the tip of my blade, I feel his manhood respond to the intense stimulus in his belly and the danger of being vulnerable to the blade of his enemy. He pulls his war painted head back and makes a guttural groan and I find myself gently twisting the tip of my blade around inside his navel and letting it catch on the ridges within. He groans more as his squirming against me intensifies and I find myself also stimulated as our manhoods slide against each other. Then his whole body tenses and shudders against me as if I had stabbed him and I feel a hot flow on my belly but, not of his blood. My whole body now also spasms and we are both weakened and strangely feel less aggressive towards each other by this unexpected encounter. I grasp his knife and take it from its sheath as I say, “Wacochi help Red Knife be like Crow and Wacochi not die!” He just nods his head and says, “But Wacochi not kill Crow brothers.” I just nod my head back at him. Wacochi sets about smearing my war paint with his and rearranging my hair under my headband. He smiles at me and says, “Cheyenne is now Crow!” I then gather the war lance and bow and quivered arrows from my earlier encounters. I hand Wacochi’s knife back to him and watch as he sheathes it at his waist and I say, “Wacochi is no match for Red Knife, if you turn on me you die!” Wacochi nods and we head off to the south.
After a while we enter a pass through some hills and I can make out another Crow lookout above the pass. As he sees us approaching he descends towards us and raises his hand in greeting looking first at me and then, in recognition, at Wacochi. His eyes stay on Wacochi as he says, “Wacochi why are you away from your lookout area and who is this?” as he looks at me. Wacochi just stares at him, so he says again, “Who is this Wacochi?” with more urgency in his voice and his hand slowly going towards his knife. But before he can ask again I bring my war lance up and forward which he tries to side step but… >Shhhkt< my lance enters his naked belly just below his navel, “Eaaarrrggghhh!!” I rip the lance from his belly and thrust again directly into his navel, “Ayiiieeee!!” as he doubles up and blood runs down his exposed manhood. I push the lance hard into him and he staggers backwards and falls onto his back writhing on the end of the lance. I move the lance around in his guts and angle it down more into his lower belly and viscera as his whole body shudders and his teeth clench together. Out of the corner of my eye I see Wacochi reaching for his knife so I tear the lance from the Crow’s belly and spin around levelling the bloodied lance tip at Wacochi’s abdomen. Wacochi has his knife half way out of its sheath and freezes in that position, but what should I do? I say, “Wacochi want to die now?” he then slowly pushes his knife back into its sheath and shakes his head so I lower my lance.
As the sun is about to set I decide we should rest and continue the journey in the morning. I find a good spot amongst some boulders and after hunting and eating raw rabbit I look at Wacochi. He eyes me suspiciously when I produce some strips of leather hide but soon knows what I intend to do with them. I grab his hands and tie them behind his back, then I lay down with the lance at my side. I try to sleep but every time I open my eye I find Wacochi staring at me. Having had enough of this I throw a small stone at his head which he just avoids and place a larger rock near me for him to know that is next to be thrown should he continue staring. When I again look at him he is huddled and shivering and I too am cold from the night’s chill so, keeping his hands tied, we lay together keeping each other warm. But slowly I feel Wacochi push himself harder against me and I find myself untying his hands…
