"I will never understand white men. They have no rules. No honor. The war has been a disaster... for the Shawnee." Cornstalk stood by the small window, his cloak wrapped around his shoulders.
Elinipsico looked up at his father's voice. "What will happen to us, Father?" He tried to keep his voice from trembling, tried not to show fear.
"We will fight the Americans... and be destroyed," the Shawnee chief said softly. His deep voice thrummed in Elinipsico's ears, familiar, as always. But different now, his son thought. For this might be the last time they spoke on this earth.
"And what will happen to... to us?" Elinipsico asked again, his voice still uncertain.
Cornstalk returned his gaze to the window, as a stray sheet of parchment blew by on the wind. "Maybe the Americans will trade us for soldiers. Maybe they will kill us." He turned to his son. "If they do, because we are warriors, our souls will enjoy a special place with our Grandmother in heaven, where we will feast and dance forever." Cornstalk took his son's hands in his own larger ones. The hands of warriors. Elinipsico threw his arms around Cornstalk's shoulders and they stayed like that for a long moment.
The voices outside their cell brought them apart again as they looked to the door.
"I said don't touch the Shawnees! We can swap 'em for our own!"
"No, Cap'n! We're gonna do to them what they did to Robert!"
Cornstalk looked his son directly in the eyes, conveying his pride and trust.
"Elinipsico. I've seen you grow to manhood. I'm proud of the man you've become."