Nitikechi emerged from the thick brush. Taking his place next to Jumper, the Seminole Warchief nodded respectfully.

They had already heard the hell Nitikechi’s Choctaw people had been through on their trail of tears and death.

John forced a smile, “Welcome, Nitikechi, Opothle, Jumper. We gather, Representing the five civilized tribes, to keep them civilized, united.”

Jumper frowned, “There are only four of us John.”

Nitikechi spoke gruffly, “Chickasaw bought Choctaw land. Now we are merged. Strong.”

Opothle stoked the fire, “Sharp Knife reminds us that we did not cut Tecumseh’s throat. There is no need for peace. We must cede Creek land. I say, it is time to cut throats.”

John sighed, “Sadly, I must agree. We cannot allow these men to take our land.”

Jumper sprang to his feet and let out a howling war cry in approval.

Nitikechi shook his head, “We must organize. I have spent time with these men and I know them. John you too, we will plan. Then we will attack.”

“It is agreed,” Opothle nodded.