More than half a month later.
On a dirt road to the east of the Creek Tribe's small town, Father Vigne was drawn by the distant cries of "Awoo," raising his eyes to see dozens of serious-looking Indian youths holding flintlock guns, chaotically sprinting forward before assuming the stance of aiming.
He knew those were Indian warriors in training, so he bowed his head and continued on his way. The residence of the Stone Eagle High Priest was still five or six kilometers away, making him regret not asking Chekilie for a few horses.
Beside him, Father Lorier frowned at those Indian cavalry and shook his head, saying, "Do they think this is what a charge formation looks like?"
"Father Vigne, perhaps we should tell them they need to form infantry lines to fight.
"With their current setup, I'm afraid they'll have a hard time fending off the American militia's attack."
