“Voices of the Fire: The Last Stand of the Dog Soldiers” Southern Cheyenne War Council, 1867

The warriors of the Hotamétaneo'o—the Dog Soldiers—sat in silence around the flames, protectors of the people, their hearts filled with defiance.

At the center stood Bear Shield, his buffalo-hide robe brushing the dust, the five-pointed star on his chest-plate glinting like iron against his red-beaded sash. He had taken wounds at Sand Creek and lived. He had ridden with Roman Nose. Now he bore the weight of history on his shoulders, a legacy wrapped in smoke and gunpowder.

“The whites come again,” he said, voice low but fierce. “They offer paper for land and rail for life. They offer treaties—and break them like twigs in winter.”

He turned slowly, meeting the eyes of each seated warrior. Elk Tongue, still wearing the bloodstained band from the Washita raid. White Hawk, his left arm crippled by a cavalry saber but his grip steady on the lance. And Little Otter, youngest of them, barely a man—but fearless.

“We do not run. We stand. We die facing the wind.”