As I gazed across the valley, which lies beneath Yonah mountain, I noticed a large encampment of soldiers. White canvas covered the terrain, and the army was situated next to a road which ran north to south. I entered the camp from the south, and soon I realized that I was among the Catawbas, allies to the patriot forces. Fear trembled me as I walked among my known enemy. And though no one attempted to harm me, they were quite astounded by my entrance.

I walked from camp to camp looking at the position of the enemy, and soon I reached the northern extremity. There I looked to Yonah mountain, then rainfall turned me back toward the camps.

Instead of following the road I had entered on, I decided to go to the eastern portion of the camp. One tent drew my attention, and I entered to find a Catawba sutler. He sold almost anything the soldiers could desire, including blankets, bugles, and food. I wanted to purchase several items, yet I had no money. Just then the owner approached me and said, "All that I have is yours brother." Do not hesitate to ask for anything." I was astonished by his offer, yet somehow I knew we were one.

I felt warmth throughout my soul and knew that Twokiller was from my blood. Unlike the other Catawba soldiers in the camp, he made me feel welcome. He told me very little about his intentions. This was because he spoke through his heart to mine. From these muscles flowed an interchangable vein of brotherhood. We shared a common bond that required no speech, but only thoughts, for we were one people.

Soon after, I left the tent for I smelled a wondeful aroma from the southern end of the parade grounds. I should have never left, for I could not find him again. The soldiers would not allow me to eat. I sat bewildered, with my head down, wondering why I had left Twokiller. As I thought, I fell into a deep sleep, and found myself in a wilderness. Now there was only one tent.

It has not been long since the day I met Twokiller. He was not from my tribe, but that of my enemy, the Catawbas. My people had fought many battles against these people in the eighteenth-century, and their hatred abounded. The day I met Twokiller, we established a warm friendship. He knew I was Cherokee, and I knew he was Catawba. Yet despite tribal differences, our friendship grew and there was nothing that could separate our brotherly bond. He offered me all that he had, and guaranteed to protect me when I needed him. Then he was gone.

I found myself trapped in a barren wilderness soon after. A few of his people were with me under the shelter of a tent that was stolen from the white man's army. I awoke one morning to find that we were being attacked. At least that is what I thought.

I ran outside the shelter to discover that a band of Catawbas were advancing rapidly on our position. I went closer to discover their intent, yet I knew I would die if I did not return to the shelter. As I turned away, I noticed that a band of Cherokees were attacking from the rear, and it was the Catawbas that they intended to destroy. I was between the two advancing spirits of war, and I knew not which I should defend. Over my heart they battled, and Twokiller and his family came to my protection. Underneath the shelter, we awaited the ultimate demise, death. There I lay, bewildered by my situation, and only knowing I did not want Twokiller to die. Then all vanished, and I stood alone, underneath the shelter with the blood of both people.

The blood of both parties was mine, and it was my soul that battled that day. Twokiller, now gone, had shown me that I was his brother as well as that of the Cherokee. We were one, and I shall never forsake him.