Boyzilla: Supreme Commander Kishinami? Or, "special weapon Head tilts Kishinami"? I have no trouble imagining Hakuno at the head of an army. Except that's not exactly what I have in mind.

Author's note: I did not imagine writing such a long chapter for "Music of the Spheres"... but arrived at the Christmas festivities, the chapter was so short that I preferred to continue... and after cutting in the middle of a transition chapter which explains the context of this new Arc will be awkward.

As I reread myself, I realized that a passage is not very clear, the plane (you will understand what I am talking about when you read this chapter) disappears on Monday, December 21, Hakuno is invited to spend Christmas at Senator Weikmann's house five days later... so the Christmas scene is on December 26 (not the evening of the 24th). It is not a mistake of the author (I can still add, thank God). As stated in the text, Senator Weikmann cancelled the Christmas festivities when he learned of his son's disappearance. When Weikmann discovers that the mysterious Master that Cooper sends him is a 16-year-old girl, he decides to celebrate Christmas at the time of her arrival.

The Blood's Winter

The State of Maine is a country renowned for its harsh climate. No foreigner took pleasure in staying there after the beginning of autumn. The Christmas period was undoubtedly warm in the heart of the inhabitants, but more difficult for an epidermis not accustomed to a temperature far below zero.
The taxi turned into a street invaded by the year-end decorations. The families were shopping and we could hear the First Noel of Sinatra broadcast by loudspeakers.

As the car entered the facade alignments, Tamamo wiggled on the back seat:

"I think I found the Weikmann house."

An outstretched hand, the fox-girl... so far devoid of her tail and ears... showed a gathering of journalists. A television crew filmed a young blonde presenter warmly dressed, microphone in hand. Further away photographers take pictures of a large traditional wooden building, with blue tiles, a veranda, and many windows surrounded by white shutters.

The Master replied with a simple nod of the head. The young Japanese girl was not the talkative type. The vehicle entered the driveway, beating off the reporters with a horn. Some of them took pictures of the trio who got out of the taxi. It must be said that two of them had enough to attract the flashes of the photographers. One did not often see someone as pretty as this blonde teenager with long hair tied in a heavy braid, or this equally beautiful Asian with generous breasts... one quickly forgot the second Japanese, thin and small. No one knew who they were but their arrival at this very moment was probably no accident and one could hear the speculations of the presenter.

Then the front door opened to let out Stephan Weikmann, a Democratic senator from Maine, and his son Pier Weikmann, a doctor of quantum electronics and chemistry.

Both men were tall, robust, with heavy features, clear eyes, and baldness which to be more advanced in the father is no less present in the son. Their faces were a mask of anxiety and sadness.
Turning a deaf ear to the television host requesting an interview, Senator Weikmann turned to Hakuno:

"Miss Kishinami, thank you for coming so quickly."

Unsure, the young Master shook his hand and nodded without saying a word.

The senator raised an eyebrow, was a little surprised by her behavior, and then turned to the two young women who accompanied the Victor of the Moon:

"Excuse me, I'll get you inside. There is no reason to stay out in the cold and with all these vultures gathering around my house."

The politician guided them inward. When they had passed through the front door, he said:

"Believe that your help to all is appreciated. Especially you Miss Kishinami, my friend Professor Petrie-Smith has told me a lot about you. Despite the situation, I am happy to finally meet you."

Hakuno could only answer with a new nod. She was obviously very uncomfortable and the honorable senator's attempts to get her to speak did not seem to be effective. Tamamo no Mae shook her head with a mixture of fun and fatalism:

" My adorable Master is very shy and your welcome may be a bit excessive."

"Excessive?" emphasized Weikmann Jr., "your Master has been selected by the Moon Cell Automaton to participate in the Kimata Grail War. In view of recent events, this 'Grail War' could degenerate into a real world war. I don't see anything excessive in behaving according to the stakes."

With her stomach's in knots, Hakuno finally spoke and asked him in a small voice if that was the reason for her presence. The senator made a gesture of denial and smiled sadly:

"No, Miss Kishinami, I want your help in a difficult trial."

Tamamo frowned, surprised. She looked to Hakuno, who also seemed surprised before turning to Jeanne. The French saint remained impassive, and if the senator's remark surprised her, she showed nothing.
The Weikmans noted their trouble, without understanding the reason. Leaving the hall, the senator guided his guests to a salon to introduce them to the other members of the family. Worried, they were gathered around the television, with their eyes turned to the station which was broadcasting a report on the crash of a passenger plane. The images are shot on the shores of Sakakawea Lake in North Dakota.

Tamamo heard the commentator call the owner of the plane "Kurt Weikmann", it was not difficult to understand that it was a relative of Senator Weikmann:

"That's what you were talking about... a difficult trial... yes I understand better."

Stephan Weikmann replied by twisting his hands in anguish:

"My son... he... he came with his daughter Christina to spend the Christmas holidays... here in Maine. His wife..."

"His ex-wife, Dad."

Yes... yes Pier, I forget all the time that they are divorced. His wife... his ex-wife, Eleni, had just arrived. We were waiting for them to land...it was Monday night. We had prepared a big Christmas party and decorated the house. Instead, we're here waiting for a sign of life."

Jeanne d'Arc nodded with a thoughtful look:

"You said a plane crash? You know what happened?"

The honorable senator looked at the TV with continued to embroider on the same facts:

"No, nothing. We canceled the festivities while the police and army were mobilizing significant air and ground assets. We were confident that they talked about research devices, but now that it's about recovery..." He stopped without finishing the sentence and shook his head in a gesture of denial. "Five days! For them it's too much, they've removed all the research planes."

Pier Weikmann nodded heavily:

"I'd like you to help us find the plane..."

Tamamo had restrained herself until then, but she was getting fed up. She raised an elegant hand and coughed with an affected look:

"Ufu ufu ufu all this is very sad, I grant you. I don't want to be insensitive. But what does that have to do with us? Colonel Cooper sent us here to help the army against a Servant. My Master is not a specialist in plane disappearances! And you already seem to have all the help you need." Casko, in a gesture, pointed to the TV that continued to show images of the rescue." Then why are we here?"

There was a moment of hesitation before Dr. Pier Weikmann spoke again:

"Excuse us, we started from the principle that you were aware, this has been on the front page of the newspapers for several days..."

"We were trapped in a Bounded Field who interrupting communications", cut off Tamamo.

Hakuno blinked and laid a hand on that of her Servant:

"Caster, that's not very nice. Let Dr. Weikmann talk."

Tamamo made fun of Weikmann, but as she was scolded by her Master, her expression instantly changed into a contrite look would have been fun in other circumstances. A slight smile appeared on the senator's lips:

"Let me explain. Colonel Cooper did bring you here so you could assist the army blocking the Sakakawea Lake area..."

Senator Weikmann embarked on a long explanation, but Hakuno did not understand half of it. The politician mentioned a series of organizations whose names were acronyms or a soup of initials. Fortunately, Tamamo did not seem to have any trouble following these explanations. Nevertheless, sitting on one of the sofas surrounding the television, the Servant did not hide her irritation. With her arms folded, in a posture that could hardly be described as open, the fox-woman did not seem particularly willing to cooperate. When the politician interrupted, she spoke:

"So, if I can summarize, your younger son is part of a commission to verify that companies operating on American soil do not illegally export weapons or other prohibited technologies. He was investigating the links between the CFRT consortium, Kimata Inc, and a Middle Eastern tyrant when his plane went missing. And the next day, in the same region, two Servants clashed. I'm right?"

Pier Weikmann, the elder brother, replied:

"Yes, that's it... Caster. Petrie-Smith explained to us that Kimata and CFRT invoked Servants and we assume it was one of them that caused the plane's crash. But if the method remains incomprehensible to us, the motive is clear. My brother came back with the result of his investigation. Kimata or CFRT intercepted the plane to shut him up. We would like you to help us find the plane... it is not possible that they are dead, not possible."

Sitting on the other side of Hakuno, Jeanne rested her cup of tea and turned to the senator:

"As the arbiter of the Grail War, it is my duty to ensure that innocent people are not involved in the conflict. However, if you want us to help you, we need a little more information."

Senator Weikmann agreed:

"Ask us what you want to know."

"You said your son came here to spend Christmas with you."

"This is it."

"Where did your son come from?"

"Hightwater, in Saskatchewan... in the south of Canada, on the border with the U.S. Kurt had just completed a survey of shale-gas operations owned by CRFT Consortium in Canada.", replied Pier Weikmann quickly, ahead of his father who gave him an irritated look.

Although not very comfortable with other human beings, Hakuno had a knack for feeling insignificant details. Since their arrival, the father and the son exchanged angered glares that were also seen in their posture... There was a discomfort between them, like a disagreement.

For a Servant like Ruler, Senator Weikmann's frustration must have been equally obvious. Yet she remained imperturbable, continuing to ask her questions:

"How did you know the plane had fallen into Sakakawea Lake?"

"An Indian from the Fort Berthold reserve saw it fall. An emergency buoy with the aircraft's registration and one of Christina's suitcases were recovered floating on the lake. In fact, air traffic control lost contact just north of the Indian reserve and the distress beacon was picked up by the New Town tribal police, the city closest to the lake."

Examining herself in the mirror of the wardrobe, Hakuno Kishinami fastened the fastening of his cheongsam dress (1) on his left shoulder. Having finished dressing, the survivor of the Moon looked critically at herself.

Her physical appearance had not changed since the Moon Cell Grail War, she still looked like a skinny teen girl and devoid of... well... despite her sixteen years she was still deprived of all assets that could attract the boys' eyes. Moreover, her face was not expressive, as if she was doomed to be some kind of background character that nobody noticed. Only her long milk chocolate hair and her huge eyes of the same shade stand out of the ordinary.

As every time she rediscovered herself in the mirror, Hakuno hoped to have gained in beauty, to be able to compare herself to Rin Tohsaka or Rani VIII, but she had neither the class of the first nor the exoticism of the second.

Hakuno had a poor smile, she would have to give herself a reason.

The teen Master startled as we knocked on the door. Before she could even respond, the gate opened to let in the tornado Tamamo no Mae.

The Servant jumped and flung her arms around Hakuno's neck:

"My super-upper-ultra-cutie Goshujin-sama! Your humble wife is more and more and more in love with you."

Hakuno sighed, somewhat annoyed by Casko's behavior. Nevertheless, she caressed her between the two ears:

"You could wait until I told you to come in, you could have surprised me while I was still getting dressed."
"Yes, I miscalculated. I thought it would have taken you longer to put on that dress!" Confessed the kitsune with disarming frankness.

Hold a minute... had Tamamo really admitted that she had entered to surprise her while dressing? Hakuno blushed, trying to repel Caster... a vain attempt doomed to failure.

"Caster!"
"Nya?"

In the mirror, Hakuno's gaze met Tamamo eyes... the magical foxgirl pulled her tongue with a half-provocative, half-amused look before winking at her... and Hakuno sighed shaking her head. She could not stay angry with Casko... whatever the Servant did, she ended up forgiving!

Of course, Tamamo no Mae felt the emotional change of her Master. And as Hakuno renounced to get angry, not at all intimidated, the Servant resumed her "offensive":

"I was right to make you buy this dress at the airport. It fits you like a glove. You look really handsome! "

The teen girl blushes. It would be more accurate to say that the Chinese dress fitted her as closely as a glove, revealing her assets... or rather the lack of them. In fact, her dress was a typical modern blue cheongsam with gold printed patterns and the shameless high-slit cuts reaching the top of the thigh. The slightest step revealed her legs and stockings.

She should never have let Caster convince her to buy such an indecent dress. But the Servant had insisted so much and Hakuno was so weak when Tamamo adopted an imploring look. It must be said that the kitsune mastered the art of the "sad cocker".

While Tamamo continues to create compliments that did not exist in any dictionary that her Master did not even listen to anymore, Hakuno looked again at her reflection in the big mirror of the dressing.

She didn't think she was prettier than the first time.

But Tamamo no Mae smiled at the teen girl and tied something in her hair.

With surprise, the Master carried her hand over his ear to discover in the mirror that she now wore a shimmering pearl clip carved in the shape of an orchid.

The kitsune smiles:

"Merry Christmas Goshujin-sama, now you are perfect."

Hakuno had a little confused smile... at least someone thought she was pretty. She felt embarrassed and... grateful.

Too moved to speak, the teen girl caressed Caster between the ears. This - once again - caused the Servant to lose the little self-control she possessed on a resounding "Goshujin-sama!", the fox woman threw herself on her Master to hug her vigorously against her opulent chest, almost suffocating the teen girl...

On the point of losing consciousness, Hakuno wondered for a moment if the Servant she had the most to fear was not Tamamo...

Fortunately, a retainer knocked on the door to inform them that dinner was served. The man of a certain age, impeccable in his white jacket and bow-tie, must have seen some very strange things in a lifetime serving the great families of the East Coast, for he raised only an eyebrow at the sight of a purring woman with ears and a fox's tail squeezing a turning purple teenage girl who struggled weakly (2).

Senator Weikmann was waiting for his guests in a large dining room with white pine-paneled walls decorated with prints that seemed to have been executed by Norman Rockwell. Most of the family members were present.

Very master of himself, the politician greeted Tamamo and Hakuno with grace, complimenting their toilet and bowing even for a hand kiss operated in the rules of art.

"Ah! Miss Kishinami, please accept my son's apology... he will not supper... these last few days have been very painful for him."

"I understand perfectly, senator."

Stephan Weikmann smiled and invited Hakuno to take a seat. The table was sumptuous, a delicate porcelain and crystal glasses surrounded baskets and a bottle of golden wine. In one corner was the traditional Christmas tree and the room was decorated with Christmas wreaths.

Hakuno sat next to Jeanne who smiled at her:

"Merry Christmas!"

The French saint barely listened to the Master who answered. Ruler radiated enthusiasm:

"It has been 2099 years since Christ incarnated and his birth is still being celebrated. You are celebrating Christmas in Japan?"

Hakuno makes a head tilt. Reflecting on the question, she did not realize that all members of the Weikmann family were holding their breath.

"I think so," she ends up answering.

This surprised Jeanne:

"You are not sure?"

"It's my first Christmas."

Confused, Jeanne opened wide eyes... then she remembered who Caster's Master was. Despite appearances, Hakuno was not a sixteen-year-old. She was an A.I. created, certainly, nearly sixty years earlier... But "dormant" since the end of the Lunar Grail War, Kishinami had been awakened by the Moon Cell to participate in the Kimata Grail War.

Jeanne hesitated for a moment and then raised her champagne glass:
"May this first Christmas leaves you unforgettable memories."

Hakuno looked around with an impression of discomfort that did not reflect her impassive face.
Of course, she knew that the feathered Indians no longer rode on the infinite plains. Buffalo Bill put an end to all this by having all the bison slaughtered along the railway lines. This "feat" succeeded in reducing to poverty a proud people.

The military helicopter that picked them up at the Washburn Municipal Airport landed in Autier, near Sakakawea Lake, a small village that appeared to have been hit by a cyclone. Opening the door, Hakuno placed the headphones on the back of the chair before turning to her three companions. Doctor Weikmann seemed disgusted, unlike Jeanne d'Arc and Tamamo, who showed no emotion.

Yet the shantytown was a spectacle of desolation. All the prefabricated houses were crumbling, the ravaged walls were covered with graffiti. Beer cans, broken wine bottles, food packaging, and baby diapers, formed a pile of rubbish covered by the snow fallen at dawn. This filth looked more like a mockery of civilization, a cry for help, than real pollution.

"Beautiful atmosphere," ironized the scientist, "don't you think they're a little careless in this town?"

The arrival of the helicopter had not gone unnoticed. Out of all the barracks came a lot of people who crowded on the waste ground where the newcomers had landed. Like an animated window whose current would have been cut off, the Indians remained motionless, literally fascinated by this otherworld sight suddenly appeared in their daily misery. While the pilot was helping the passengers to unload their belongings, Dr. Weikmann met police officers who had just arrived from two old patrol cars. Readjusting his sunglasses, the colossus who directed them moved towards the crowd to speak in a grave and slow language with nasal sounds. His authority seemed to work because his brothers of race retreated.

"I'm Sheriff Garreaux, who are you, and what are you doing here?"

With a smile worthy of a used car salesman, the Senator's son hurried forward and grabbed a hand that was abandoned to him in bad grace:

"Excuse my unorthodox arrival, my name is Pier Weikmann. You've been made aware of my visit, I think."
"Oh-han, kola" greeting the Indian. "I was waiting for you"

Leaving his men to watch over the helicopter, he invited the passengers to follow him.

Hal Garreaux was a 40-year-old Native American. Despite his round face and prominent belly, he inspired certain prudence, perhaps because he was nearly two meters hight and there is little doubt that his musculature was developed in proportion. In addition, three poorly patched scars scratched his face from the forehead to the jaw, cutting off the eyebrows, skipping the brow arch, and eventually clawing his cheek.

Once in his office, the sheriff hung his Stetson on the coat hangers and put down his rifle:
"Doctor Weickmann," said the policeman, "you are just in time. One of our recovery teams has located a metal object in the lake. We think it could be your brother's plane."

Without a word his interlocutor nodded his head, the eyes half-closed in a visible effort to control his anxiety. Absolutely not concerned about the torment of the scientist, Tamamo sat down on the edge of the desk and began to investigate the scattered files:

"Wow! Terrific... how did you do it? It's the story of the needle in the haystack."

Sheriff Garreaux made a conspicuous effort not to become angry at the unencumbered nature of the kitsune:
"A needle that magnetizes! A boat with a magnetometer went right over it. We were lucky. We could have passed by twenty times without finding anything. Frogmen placed cables on the wreckage."

Slowly, the scientist rose up. His eyelids beat as if he were coming out of a dream:

"Tell me, sheriff, would it be possible to accompany you when the plane will be out of the water?"

"Dr. Weikmann, not only is it possible but it is even necessary... If we find corpses, we will have to identify them."

"Then let's go now."

Hal Garreaux makes a grim while mechanically touching the golden crest of his badge:

"Too much enthusiasm can harm. A group of F.B.I. agents and some lab guys must come before us."
"Okay," Jeanne said, "what if you tell us what happened?"

"On Monday, December 21, Jimmy Eagle Elk, a fisherman living near Autier, heard an engine roar. A large shadow passed over him, hiding the stars. It was supposed to be 8:30. When the shadow moved away, Jimmy noticed the position lights and realized it was an airplane. Slipping quickly over the water, it disappeared in the night. At 8:35 p.m., the distress beacon on Dr. Weikmann's brother's plane activated. By 6:40 p.m. it had disappeared from radar and was no longer responding to calls from the control tower. From Jimmy's testimony, we were able to define a search perimeter."

Jeanne d'Arc remained pensive for a few moments, then she looked into the eyes of the sheriff:
"Can we trust the testimony of Jimmy Eagle Elk?"

His eyes lowered, the Amerindian seemed to shrivel, his shoulders arched. After a few moments of silence, he replied in a broken voice:

"This land is cursed! Children are conceived without love between two shots of alcohol. They are often born with disabilities. Dwarves, morons, abnormals, blind and deaf are ten times more numerous on reserves than in the rest of the country. It is alcohol and despair that is at the origin of evil. Here reigns "the Blood's Winter" as Lakota writer James Welch said, total despair that turns into sexual violence and violence. And then what? Pure and simple genocide?"

Shocked by his words, Hakuno stood up and shook her hands:

"No one is doing anything? Should the Indian Office not protect the natives?"

Garreaux stared intensely at Hakuno and laughed with a bitter irony:

"Don't you think it's doing enough?"

The Victor of the Moon remained speechless, without knowing what to answer. The silence was soon broken by the melody of Garreaux's mobile phone. As soon as the phone hung up, the sheriff smiled at Dr. Weikmann and explained that he was expected.

Before the Amerindian reached the door, Hakuno called him. The colossus turned around:
"Miss Kishinami?"

"What did you mean about the office's responsibility?"

Hal Garreaux remained meditative for a few moments then sighed:

"To cure themselves of their guilt for having driven us from our land, the whites pay us a subsistence allowance. That money wiped out the last remnants of the autonomous economy that survived World War IV. We used to be in misery. Now the Sioux; the Chippewas; the Mandans; the Hidatsas; the Arikawas and so many others have become welfare zombies."

Crossing the threshold, the sheriff showed with his hand the village of Augier and its prefabricated buildings in ruins, the broken windows, heir missing tiles:

"In the reserves, children suffer from such a lack of affection on the part of their parents that joy and trust are vain words for them. Mistreated or abandoned but always filled with reproaches, they are compared to burdens. They eventually develop a sense of inferiority and guilt where their own lives often count much less than a night of drunkenness."

Sitting behind the wheel of the Indian police pick-up truck, he started. Weikmann, who was locking himself in the nearby seat, leaned towards him:

"I sincerely find the situation very regrettable, but I rather care about my brother. Who can we rely on?"
"Nobody! Life matters so little here, so how do you motivate someone for research?"

Leaving the village, the pick-up rolled slowly amid abandoned crops. The road was littered with rusty car carcasses and the road signs were riddled with bullet holes. Only the virginity of the snow broke with the immutable feeling of depression that stuck to the landscape. The end of the oil age had led to the same flood of disasters as in Arizona.

Not far from Augier, Sakakawea Lake sparkled under the sun. A human anthill had settled on the shore. Soldiers, policemen, and rescuers had dispersed on both water and land. Several motionless boats danced at the end of their anchorage chains, passing the relay to a tow truck that pulled out a mud-covered plane, reduced to scraps by the violence of the impact.

As soon as he arrived on the beach, Sheriff Garreaux led Hakuno, Weikmann, and the Servants to a group of men with parkas who were contemplating the wreckage. The redhead with the nosy face who was leading had eyes that were never at rest watching everything and everyone. Lymphatic in contrast, the Hispanic just behind him simply stared at the plane with his teeth chattering.

"Dr. Weikmann, allow me to introduce O'Sullivan and Gomez from the FBI."

Striking the sheriff with his gaze, the redhaired man took out a wallet and unfolded it with a dry gesture, making appear an official card stamped with the American eagle and a golden badge:

"Agent O'Sullivan, Geronimo, and this is Agent Gomez!" corrected the FBI man.

"Hugh, great Sioux chief apologize but Geronimo is Apache chief."

Without answering, the federal agent looked through the strange group that followed the Native American. In brief words, O'Sullivan recounted the discovery of two corpses and asked for their identification by Dr. Weikmann. Putting his steps in those of the agent, the latter disappeared among the tents of the camp. Tamamo accompanied him, as well as Garreaux. Nevertheless, wishing to prevent Jeanne and the Master from having to contemplate bodies, they were asked to stay there.

Noticing that Hakuno trembled with cold, Gomez approached her and handed her a steaming cup:
"Madre de Dios, don't just stand there, you'll freeze on your feet!"

But Kishinami shook her head without saying a word. Despite the numbness and coldness of the wind, which was like pins that were pressed into all exposed parts of her skin, she preferred to stay there. The Master swallowed a sip of the boiling liquid that the Americans called "coffee" and failed to strangle... too sweet... Placing the cup on the hood of a car, Hakuno spoke:

"How long have you been here?"

The Hispanic smiled:

"Quien sabe? I'm too afraid to roll up my sleeve to watch the time, my skin could freeze."

However, the conversation ended with the arrival of an overexcited Tamamo:

"Dr. Weikmann didn't recognize the bodies!"

Hakuno blinked and the kitsune explained more clearly:

"Weikmann did not recognize his brother among the bodies extracted from the wreck. According to Canadian authorities, he was on board with his little daughter when he took off. As they were tracked by radar to the north of the reserve, this means they landed nearby before taking off again."

In front of four slow, silent riders, behind, another held by the loins a convoy of five horses loaded with bundles wrapped in tarpaulins. The runway was only a draft winding between coniferous trees covered in frost lace carved by the wind. Brush and low branches scraped the boots of the riders at the passage.

Around Hakuno no one spoke, only the condensation of the breaths prevented the travelers from being taken for ghosts.

The landscape and the people around the Teen Girl were cinematic clichés. The Indians were on the warpath. Yet it was not a film, but a reality that spread out in the majesty of a breathtaking setting. The change of scenery was total. The numbness caused by the cold reinforced Kishinami's sense of unreality.

Less than three hours earlier, the small expedition had abandoned the solar-powered pick-ups for horses that had a much better range, especially here where the roads had not been maintained for at least forty years. In addition to Sheriff Garreaux, Dr. Weikmann, Caster, and Ruler three Lakota Tribal Police officers completed the group: Pete Two Legs, Raymond Little Eagle, and Jeremiah Coutrelle.
Raising her head, Hakuno looked at Hal Garreaux immersed in the study of traces on the ground and the surrounding landscape. During the travel, he explained the methods of the Indian trackers. In its current outcome, it is a mnemonic process called NDAH, where "N" means number, "D" direction, "A" age, "H" heel. It was enough to count the traces going by pair. If they succeeded each other in an uninterrupted track, identify the heel prints visible in the space of a stride and divide it in half to be aware of the number of individuals who had passed there. To know the direction, we needed a compass and a map. The age of the runway was more difficult to determine, Hakuno had just understood that knowledge of the latest weather events was crucial since the footprints kept track of them. The depth of the heel print gave valuable indications of the weight of an individual and the material it carried and its speed. All these were the signs on the ground. The aerial signs were the broken branches and the tiny fragments of tissue hanging from the bushes.

During the march, the man from the group that closed the column had approached the Victor of the Moon to the point of walking almost at the height of the Teen Girl. He could not move forward anymore because the pack horses handicapped his maneuver. Hakuno turned slightly sideways to observe him. The Lakota Sioux was an impressive individual, warmly dressed, with a Stetson. If the Master was looking at him, he too seemed to be staring at her although his sunglasses prevent her from being sure. One other than Hakuno would probably have spoken, asking the reason for this interest but Kishinami did not speak much and the Victor of the Moon remained silent. Next to her, Tamamo had also noted this interest and directed a scary glare at the Amerindian... in her mind everyone wanted to steal her "adorable Master" and she intended to defend her "property".

At a bend of the path, the small expedition arrived in a gently sloping, asymmetrical clearing, extending at the foot of a sort of giant pipe furnace, one of this singular clay mountains whose westerns popularized the image all over the planet. As snowflakes began to dance in the final day, the sheriff set foot on the ground, and distributed orders for tents to be erected.
Under the snow that was now falling, everyone was busy. The packs' horses were unloaded, the heavy canvases laid down on the ground, and fuel oil barrels were installed, roughly shaped and drilled, for use as a stove.

Exhausted by this trip that made her lower back mush, Hakuno was finally able to rest and disengage while the meal was cooking and the kettles were singing on the stove full of pine logs.

When you ride a horse you certainly don't expect to be more tired than the horse the next day! But Hakuno was not in the habit of making such hikes, nor of sleeping amid the snoring and coyotes howling in the gusts.

As Hakuno complained to Tamamo, Hal Garreaux set out with a vast burst of laughter. Furious the Kitsune insulted the sheriff for the greater amusement of the other Sioux busy devouring a solid breakfast of bacon and eggs, red beans, and dried meat while drinking a bubbling coffee closer to infusion than espresso.

Vexed, Tamamo turned her heels dragging her "adored Master" by the wrist. Freed from their presence, the police began to dismantle the camp by throwing amused eyes at them. Not understanding the Sioux language, Hakuno could not understand what they were saying but it was obvious that they were laughing at them.

On his way to her horse, Hakuno set foot in the stirrup and mounted the saddle. The others were busy rebuilding the convoy of the day before. Less than ten minutes later they were gone. Following the steep chalk cliffs lined with coal strips, they entered a landscape of meadows sleeping under the snow, from which mesetas and rocks in equilibrium, similar to castles, sprang up. In this immaculate white panorama, only the green of the coniferous groves brought a touch of color. The horses toiled. Even without their shackles, the hooves slipped and sometimes a horse would whine in pain, wounded on pieces of ice. Stoic, the men endured the cold that condensed their breath into frost, clinging to their nostrils. They had to wrap themselves in thick parkas, wearing several layers of disparate clothing, to avoid freezing on their feet. The weapons brandished, the watchful eyes behind the sunglasses, the Stetsons weighed down with a snow wreath, the tribal police offered an anachronistic show. The inspection of the isolated farms that the sheriff deemed suitable for landing an aircraft continued throughout the morning, with no results.

At the instigation of Dr. Weikmann, they left the forest to follow a roughly arranged road to a house with a pink plaster, with a roof of asphalted cardboard. The reception reserved for them made the comparison with the external cold rather favorable to the latter.

A child sucking his thumb and trembling with all his bones was nestled in a leather chair draped with an Indian blanket. Behind him, an adipose woman soaked in whiskey without giving visitors a look. On a disembodied sofa lay a tall old man, thin to frighten. His fingers yellowed by the tobacco twitched over a flattened cig which he wore constantly to his toothless mouth. The waxy-dyed skin of the face strongly outlined high cheekbones. The hair was white, long, and vaporous like a halo. Incredibly wrinkled, he must have been a hundred years old.

Red Cloud is the Wica a Wakan, the most famous "medicine-man" of the Lakota Sioux tribe.
Weikmann had been chatting with him for some time through an Indian interpreter with lumpy skin, his eyes disappearing behind ray-bans, a scarf holding back his long black hair. The translator punctuated the former's speeches with shaving to a can of Budweiser or aggressive movements of his 98 k rifle.

The atmosphere was unhealthy, tense, as when approaching a storm. An old drunk sitting in an armchair surrounded by bottles stubbornly stared at Hakuno as if the Victor of the Moon came out of one of his drunkard's nightmares. Television - which no one was really watching - was on at full power, spilling a foul stream of game shows and commercials.

Smoking cigarettes on cigarettes, Red Cloud answered Dr Weikmann's questions with harsh remarks: "Why would I be willing to help you save your brother when our children are dying because of you white people? Why would we help our persecutors? Did you respect the treaty of Laramie that kept us our territory from Missouri to Montana? Did you even respect the one in 1868 that stole half of it from us? No, on the contrary, the gold diggers stole the territory of the Black Hills and you put us in reserves like animals in zoos. When Sitting Bull tried to get us out, you murdered him with three hundred women and children in Wounded knee."

Pier Weikmann was careful not to defend him from expressing himself and waited until the end of the tirade to place a few words:

"I'm sorry about what's happening to your people, but I can't help it."

"That's pretty much what your president said when I went to see him in Chicago (3). I asked him to give us back our lands so that our people could smile again. Instead, look around you! Look at how we live! Children start drinking at school, then they don't find work, they don't have enough to eat. Why doesn't anyone help us? You white men came to our lands and you took them, you took our food. And in exchange, you raped our women, killed our children, and destroyed Mother Earth. You smoked the sacred pipe with us, you signed agreements. They were not respected because you are too greedy. Why should I help you?"

"My brother is innocent. He did not kill any Indians. He did not violate a treaty... his daughter is only fifteen years old."

"And aren't the children here innocent?"

"Sure."
"So worry about them and I'll worry about white kids."

"I am sincere".

"I don't know what that word means when it's in a white man's mouth."

With an angry gesture, the old Sioux crushed his cigarette butt in an overflowing ashtray. Shaking his hands against each other, Hakuno swept the filthy piece with a nervous look before taking a step forward:
"Hello... I am Hakuno Kishinami. Allow me to speak in your presence."
"Done!"
Hakuno, who had absolutely not prepared her intervention, stopped to gather her courage while the old medicine-man searched through his Player package without letting her out of his sight.

"I am not white. If I promise to come and help your people, will you believe me?"

"How would I know if white poison isn't in your heart? Many of my people turned away from Tunkasila, from the spirits of our fathers, tormented by the desires that the whites waved before their eyes."

Pulling Hakuno by the shoulder the sheriff passed in front of her, beginning a long conversation in Sioux with "the medicine-man". After several minutes the interpreter translated a question that the old Indian addressed to the Master:

"Why do you, who are not of the white race, help them?"

Kishinami hesitated for a moment and chose honesty:

"You saw it on TV, they talked about two monsters fighting each other. The disappearance of Dr. Weikmann's brother is linked to this story. I'm here to fight these monsters."

It was a very long speech for Hakuno. In fact, she had rarely said more at one time. Only, it did not affect the old Indian:

"There is nothing to expect from whites, they have corrupted the red man, they have made him renounce peace. Everywhere in every country, on every continent, their greed has strangled Mother Earth, weakened minds. Look around you, this world is dying because of their greed and the monsters you speak of are the punishment of our plunderers."

The response provoked an angry movement at Tamamo no Mae:

"You say it was the whites who turned you into violent drunkards, either... but you also gave up."

The translator turned white and pointed his rifle at the kitsune. He would probably have fired without a dry order from the old one.

"I do religious ceremonies in which young people participate. I make them undergo the ritual of solemn vows of renunciation of alcohol... but these remain drunkards' vows. What else can I do?"
"Open a detox center."

"The funds for its construction have been squandered in bars, casinos, and personal investments. If you give every day a block of bison to a great eagle, it will no longer hunt and be a great eagle... only a beggar. When the white man has cut down the last tree to make paper money, when the white man has polluted the last river, he will realize that money cannot be eaten. Leave, you are not welcome!"

(1) This Shanghainese outfit functions mostly as a stylish party dress. This is a dress popularized by the celebrities, socialites, and politicians of the time in Shanghai from the 1920s to the 1940s.

(2) The big question: Is Hakuno Tamamoproof?

(3) Washington was destroyed by a nuclear warhead during the Fourth World War, in 2099 the capital of the USA is Chicago.