The sun was beginning to set when the tribe stopped once again to set up camp for the night. Chief Long Knife glanced up at the orange-streaked sky, sighing heavily before turning toward the small campfire.

Hunching down, he stretched his palms toward the crackling flames, his thoughts distant. If he were honest, he wished they were making better time, but it could not be helped. He would not risk any harm coming to the infants or their mothers. Speaking of ...