Branson looked out towards the prairie scattered with the dead, no not scattered, covered.  Two hundred plus men died, the most men he had ever lost.  Then again this was the first full fledged charge they had ever done.  He scanned the prairie a lone figure was running towards the forest.  Great Ford, Howling Wolf's brother, stepped up next to Branson.

         "It's Antlers," he said turning to Branson," Get some of your men together, if we can not save my brother, then at least Antlers who is like a brother to me."

          Branson nodded and turned to his lieutanat," Get a group of a dozen men on horses,armed," he looked towards Antlers, several men were chasing him on horses. Then Great Ford and a group of riders spurred their horses and galloped towards Antlers.

           Howling Wolf put an arrow on the string and it whizzed into the chest of a big man not ten feet away. He saw men on horses ride after Antlers.  He drew another arrow and fired at them, it missed and hit a horse.  He heard the crack of guns and the indians with him fell, dead.  He shot his bow again and it hit a man just before he fired his gun.  He shot again, another man dead, he drew his last arrow and heaved a deep breath.  He let it loose and another man took his last breath.  There were still a dozen men and they started closing in on him.  He looked at them with anger, yet he did not feel the same, he felt sorrow for them.  Then an unseen blow came from behind and Howling Wolf fell, unconcious.