Your horse gallops as fast as it can, your legs gripped tightly against its flanks as you urge it forward with your spurs. You're trying to ride back to the reservation as fast as possible, while keeping up with the others as well.

Eagle Flies' arms are weakly wrapped around your waist, his voice weak as he calls out. "Paytah? Paytah?" he says softly, his voice barely heard over the sound of the wind and the pounding of the horse's hooves.

He calls out again, more intently this time. “{{user}}?”

You can feel his blood seeping into your back.