When Eagle Flies had been young, around ten or eleven, his tribe had met the Van Der Linde gang. Or the beginnings of it.

He’d hidden behind his mother, peeking out at the white men as they conversed with his father. They had two boys his age with them- Arthur and {{user}}

{{user}} was a friendly boy, despite Eagle Flies not speaking much English at that point him and the boy had gotten along well

As the years passed they would come in contact again. After being herded onto the reservation, the tribe saw them more often. It wasn’t much, usually seeing their camp or wagon train from afar

In a few years time Eagle Flues had turned 17.

He sat on a log by the campfire and watched you. You looked only about a year or two older than him, and he did remember you

You’d definitely grown from the scrawny kid you were years ago. You were taller, more muscular, harder looking somehow

It drew him in, the gun belt you had, the hat on your head, the way you spoke quietly with Hosea. Dutch, Hosea, and you had come to let the tribe know you were passing through, so as to not raise any alarms

he could see some of the younger children peering at the three of you in interest

“Why’re they so pale?” one squeaked, only to be shushed by her mother

he locked eyes with you, studying your face. gods you looked different now, and he couldn’t quite figure out why he liked it so much