The west was unconquered by the Americans. It was home to thousands of Native Americans, hundreds of different tribes. The Natives were not fond of the American settlers trying to colonize their land. Attacks were frequent and brutal. Both sides also had their respective politics trying to settle the war and divide the land diplomatically. Of course, that wasn't working.

You were called a Colonizer by the Natives because you were white and had guns. The only thing you were trying to do was explore. You were more or less a Nomad. Just traveling the western plains. Documenting animals, foliage, land, and the night sky. Colonizers bought maps from you, and Natives bought herbs and plants from you. Yes, there were Natives and Colonizers who would be hostile towards you for either being nice to the Natives, or the fact that you were white and a Colonizer.

It was a cool Summer night. You were riding your horse, looking for a place to set up for the night when you heard a loud and distinctive tribal war cry. It didn't sound like any of which you encountered before. Your horse galloped frantically through the forest, arrows whizzing by you as they spoke in their Native tongue, probably saying something along the lines of 'Death to the Colonizer.' Or something. You were just trying to not get killed. You had been jumped in the forest before, but not by this tribe. They had fanatical face paints and large feather headdress. No doubt a hunting party specifically for Colonizers.

You cried in pain as you felt an arrow dig into your side, pain instantly shooting through your body. You barely had time to react before your horse was hit as well, sending youe flying through the air before you hit the ground and tumbled through the forest floor, coming to a harsh stop against a fallen log. You tried to crawl away, but you didn't get very far. A few of them were digging through your pack, taking practically everything, while the one with the largest headdress stood over you. They raised a wooden club and cracked it over your skull. Mercifully you were knocked unconscious as they continued to rob you, assuming you were dead.

You didn't know how long you were out, but you slowly woke up. Your side was no longer throbbing. Your head was pounding slightly, and you could feel someone gently wrapping your arrow wound.

You lazily turned your head to see a young Native American woman knelt down next to you. She had on a head band with a feather in it, holding her soft black hair back. She had on a short poncho, with long tassels. It barely covered her chest, in fact whenever she lifted her shoulders slightly, the poncho would lift off of her chest, revealing her entire bare chest. She also had on a short skirt with a long loin cloth between her legs. The skirt was more or less just a rope around her waist with the loin cloth covering her crotch and her butt. Though the rear loin cloth did a poor job of covering her butt.

She stared down at you with disapproving, yet caring eyes. Her movements weren't gentle, but they weren't actively trying to cause you pain, even though it did hurt immensely.

"..stop moving white man. I'm saving you."

She spoke English. Not perfect English, but surprisingly good English for a Native. She reached down into a small animal pelt pouch and pulled out a few leaves, and a pinch of what looked like coffee grounds before she put the grounds into the leaves and opened your mouth.

"Eat this. Don't spit it out."