“‘Sharp Knife Jackson is leading the Tennessee Militia to war against the Red Stick Creeks. He is asking all the loyal Indians to join him,’ Agili said. ‘If we do so, then he will see what useful allies we are. He will surely show his friendship to us by supporting us when others of the Aniyonega try to take more of our land again.’

“‘Those Red Sticks have already killed some of our Tsalagi people,’ Turtle said. ‘That is another reason for us to fight them.’

“‘We will not be alone,’ Agili added, with real emotion in his voice, ‘There are Choctaws and Chickasaws and many of the loyal Creeks who are going to join Sharp Knife’s army. You must join us, cousin. This will be a good thing.’

“I did not stop to think. The words my friends spoke sounded right to me at that time. None of us realized what a liar Jackson would prove to be and that his promises of friendship to our people meant nothing. And back then, even before he became a village chief, my cousin Agili was very good at persuading people to do things.

“‘My friends,’ I said, ‘I will go with you.’

“Why did I do this? There were many reasons, I suppose. I wanted to help my friends. Any man who has been to war will tell you that it is more about staying by the side of your friends than it is about trying to win great battles. You do not fight and die for your leaders, but for your brothers, the men beside you. I suppose it is also true that I wanted to prove myself. I might have been lame, but I was as good as any man with two good legs.

“But there was, to be honest, another reason. All I had been able to think about for so long was finding a way to write our language. Perhaps, if I went to this war, I would somehow find the answer in my mind to that question which kept me awake at night, that question of how to make shapes that would talk in Tsalagi. Perhaps, too, a part of me thought that going to war might help me escape from my obsession. It might free my mind from the confusion that had settled around me like a cloud.