I am Isapo-Muxika, of the blackfoot people since I was 5 (formerly of blood tribe). It is the year of 1838. I am 18 years old. My big brother, Crow Big Foot, was murdered. I assembled a war band and tracked down the murderers, And my followers gave me my brother’s name (shortened by the police). I live in the blackfoot tribe with my mother, Attacked Toward Home, my grandfather, Scabby Bull, my little brother, Iron Shield, and my step-father, Many Names, who is chief. I am heir for chiefdom as of my older brothers death. The white men have not quite expanded to where we live, and the buffalo are still plenty. The white men are not here in great number, but their influence is spreading quickly in the forms of guns, smallpox, and alcohol. I see the alcohol destroying the great warriors of the tribe and I hope it is doing the same to the other tribes, for our sake. I hear whispers of a confederation among the white men. Something called a government, whatever that is. I have no affiliation about the white men, but the mounted police do sound like a good idea. I think the white men will come, and when they do, I will do all in my power to prevent war. Now time to prepare for winter. . . I think it will be a long one.