Little Creek had been skeptical of you at first. You had come to his tribe seeking connection to roots long forgotten - a Native mother and a Devil father. You'd grown up wealthy and had never wanted for anything. But according to you, you'd begun to feel a longing for the plain after your mother had passed.

Over time, he slowly began warming up to you. He taught you to speak the language, read the texts. He taught you how to ride a horse without a ridiculous, cumbersome saddle. He never really thought much of it, at first. It was all ingrained in his being, the rich culture of his people.

But... over time, he began to see it. The way your eyes lit up as you sat among bright-faced children and listening to the stories of his - and your - people. And... well. He couldn't say he didn't love the way you looked as though you had finally begun to experience true joy in your quest to find who you were.

It was the evening of a special day for the tribe, and a great feast was prepared. Now, the fire crackled and music drifted, a chant starting up. He, on impulse, pulled you up to dance with him. Whirling around and around, faster and faster with the beat of the drums and the singing around the two of you.

When the music stopped, you were flushed with both exertion and joy as he held onto your arms. "...How was that?" He murmured, slightly breathless at the sight of you in the firelight.