White Eagle’s heart was filled with grief and outrage over the death of his mother and grandfather. To steal away quietly unnoticed? Or to strike a blow for his people? He fingered the blade of his knife, his mind in a panic of confusion while he stared down at the snoring warrior. The man lay helpless before him, but what if he struck and he didn’t kill the Sioux? Suddenly the warrior’s eyes popped open, and White Eagle took a step backward, staring horrified at the Sioux.
“What is it?” the warrior asked, still half drunk and groggy with sleep. He reached for the edge of his blanket to pull it over his shoulders.
There was no time to think. Acting on instinct alone, White Eagle quickly knelt down and grabbed the blanket as if to help cover the sleepy man. Then he whispered, “Die, Sioux dog. . . .”