Oh my goodness! I have this story up for one day and already I have so many "Story Alerts"! Thank you so much! As a special treat, I decided to upload my second chapter waaaayy earlier than I would regularly publish them. This one is in Alfred's perspective!

Alfred's Native American name- Dyami (Eagle). You'll sometimes see him being called "Dyami-Yuma" which "Yuma" is "Son of the Chief"

Matthew (Ahmik- meaning "Beaver") is mentioned in this chapter, but won't show up until chapter 4.

Native!America is the woman who you see Alfred talk to. Her name is Nuna. You'll often see Alfred and Mattie call her "Gaho" which means "mother".

The language that you'll see the Natives speak is an actual language, but don't worry about what it really says; it's not really important to the story line. You'll also see my little "Author Notes" twice in this chapter. They're just there because... well... because... It might help explain something. So please, enjoy Chapter 2!


He flew through the forest, jumping through bushes and dodging trees. His breath was quick and low as he slowed his running to a stop, rolling behind a boulder and slipping an arrow from his quiver. "Né-aestömemetàtse," the dark skinned man spoke quietly as he pulled back on his bow and shot a single arrow into the distant woods.

There was a short yelp before a coyote fell to the ground. The native grinned and flicked back his short, raven hair that always seemed to fall into his face. He crept silently among the shadows of the trees and approached the dead animal. Placing his bow on his back, he pulled out a small knife and began to skin the coyote. "Êto'seêvannðòho-aha'enèstove..." He mumbled to the animal as he began cutting off the meat. "Not that we really need to... I guess I'm kind of nervous..." (Note: He's not speaking English. I'm just to lazy to continue researching Native American languages. He doesn't speak English until he meets Arthur for the second time.) When the skin, fur, and meat were removed from the carcass, the native began pulling out the bones and placing them in his sack one by one. "Thank you, Mister Coyote."

He left nothing of good use behind as he ran back into the deep woods, easily finding his way through the stone paths to his tribe's camp. The tribe that he and his mother had been leading for a century together.

"Oh bollocks!" A strange voice rang through the trees and the boy stopped in place, eyes wide and ears listening. He looked around the trees that lined the sky. Is is a god?... No... I've never been good at communicating with them... Mother says I would eventually... but...

Crunching of sticks could be heard behind him; he quickly dropped to the ground and slid behind a bush just before an odd looking man came –clumsily – through the forest. The native's dark brown eyes peered through the leaves at the sun-colored hair, the dark eyebrows, eyes the color of morning grass, and skin as pale as the sand... all that made up into this one man.

Just before curiosity struck him, the pale man with a strange voice spoke up again.

"Oh! Yes! These look like food at least..." He walked over to a bush that harvested berries, the color of dark violets. The native squinted to watch the man's actions as he took a few berries off the plant. Then it hit him.

Before he knew it, he'd drawn out his bow and arrow and shot quickly toward the bush the odd man was at. The arrow sliced through the plant and the white man fell backwards with a gasp, dropping the berries into the dirt. He looked up and saw the native – crouching in the shadows, weapon out, eyes unblinking – and crawled backward, whipping out his sword before standing up right. "Damn you!" He spoke. "I was hungry, you twit!"

The dark skinned man stared wonderingly at the shorter other and studied his face, his clothing, and the thin, shiny stick he held in his small hands. Something clicked in the back of his mind, and he reached behind him, toward his bag.

The white man stood behind him, hair a mess and sword pointed in the native's direction; but he remained relatively quiet, and watched the boy pull out a light brown, lumpy... thing. "What do you have there... Um... Indian...? No.. we're not in India... err... Native?" He swallowed as the boy stood up, gathering what he pulled out of his bag and stared back at him.

Sucking up whatever confidence he had, the native took a step forward, holding out a potato and a scrap of the coyote meat he had just hunted for. The yellow haired man took a step back, but his gaze drifted down to the food in the others hand.

"Is this for me...?" He asked in his strange tongue. The native nodded, not knowing what the man was saying, but simply wanting him to take the food. "Thank... you..." Pale hands carefully lifted the food items from dark.

The native smiled and, without a sound, disappeared into the forest, running with the wind and new-found excitement. Running across the stones that scattered around the river, he found his way back to one of his many homes.

"Atvgi'a! I have returned!" The boy shouted as he entered the tribe. There were many calls of welcome and many children came out to meet him.

"Dyami-Yuma!" a small girl called as she stumbled on the dirt. "Welcome back! Did you bring us anything?" She gripped his arm and bounced up and down as the other children gathered around. Dyami sat on the dirt and pulled his sack from his hip. Grinning, he pulled out a few small objects.

"Here," he said, handing the children the different shells he pulled from the beach. "These are good enough, right? You don't already have them?" The kids smiled and hugged Dyami, thanking him. "Now, where is my gaho?" He scanned the village at the woman collecting freshly harvest corn and fruits.

"Nuna is in the hut! She announced that her husband is traveling down with his tribe," a boy said, tugging on a feather that decorated his long, dark hair.

Dyami blinked. "Hiamovi is coming?" He paused, then smiled. "That's great news! Thanks, Wapi," he said, getting up from the ground. Patting the children on the head, he jogged over to his hut, gently opening the curtain.

"Gaho-Nuna? I have returned..." he said quietly as the fire in the center of the tent crackled. There, in the far corner – back facing the young man – a slender woman with silky, long raven hair woven with beads and flowers, hung over her work. "Gaho?" He whispered again, peering around her shoulder.

She quickly covered her project and turned around to face her son. "Dyami!" she smiled warmly, wrapping her arms around her tall son. "You're home earlier than expected... did you have a successful hunting day? Most of the men are still out." She took the quiver and bow from the boy's back and set them on a wooden shelf. "Let's see what you've got there."

Nuna opened the sack and pulled out the coyote meat, skin, and bones. "He sure must have been a big one," she said, examining the bones and feeling the soft fur. "We will have a great feast tonight."

Dyami looked up at his mother, who was still smiling and youthful. "Gaho... I've heard that Hiamovi is coming... does that mean –"

"Yes. Ahmik is coming as well." She laughed as her child's face lit up with glee. "How long as it been since you've seen each other?"

The native boy sat down and rocked on his hind. "Wow... three, maybe four decades..." (A/N: His mother is the North American personification, father is a human. So, Dyami and Ahmik are half a nation. My head-cannon is that they have eternal youth, but can still die by wounds or sickness.) "I'm happy I can see him again. What's the occasion?"

Nuna sat up and stared at him in shock. "Your coronation. I can't believe you forgot!" Dyami's eyes widened. "Honestly child, why do you think the children were gathering all those eagle feathers last moon cycle?"

Dyami-Yuma breathed out. The eagle was his guardian animal; now he felt stupid for not realizing it before. "Chief," he sighed out. "I'm a little nervous for that title, Gaho. Do you really think I'm ready?"

The woman smiled softly and caressed his cheek. "Child, if you weren't ready, Mother Earth would stop living until you were." She pecked his forehead and motioned him up. "I'll get the tribe to prepare for a large dinner. Your father and brother should be here when the sun begins to fall. Go, wash up and relax."

He nodded and wrapped his arms around the petite woman before leaving the tent. Outside, the sun was higher in the sky, avoiding clouds and shining down on the active village. The women –who were weaving baskets, tending the fire, and washing clothes – waved Dyami over.

"Good afternoon, Zitkala, the day goes well with you," he said to the of the young woman. She had long, dark hair pinned to the top of her head; small assorted feathers from a bluejay peaked from under her bun. Zitkala smiled and held up an armband.

"I made this for you," she said, handing it over. "To wish you luck when you gain leadership of the tribe!" Her dimples showed when she saw Dyami grin.

"Wow," he replied, turning the band over in his hand. It was hand-beaded with many different colors and had large, flat, circle in the middle. "It's beautiful, Zitkala, thank you..." He slid the band over his left arm and let the feathers hang from the bottom. "You really outdid yourself. Where did you get the feathers?"

A small blush crept upon her cheeks. "It was nothing, Yuma... I found them scattered around the fields. The eagles must know you'll be standing for them soon. They came to guide you," Zitkala whispered shyly as Dyami hugged her small waist.

"Thank you. I love it." He waved to the other woman and began to walk off. "I'll wear it at the welcoming ceremony tonight!" As the girls disappeared from view, Dyami sighed and entered the forest once more. Thoughts swirled around his head from all the news and information he had just found. Strange, white men, father and brother coming, becoming chief in a few days...

He lounged against a large tree far from the tribe and picked at the grass, forgetting to tell his mother about the yellow haired man and the odd language he spoke.

Slowly, his eyes closed and his mind drifted off.

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