Mistihkoman dodged back, but not fast enough, the knife slicing across his hip. He grunted then let out a sound that sounded more animal then human, that shot, a big thick .40 round from a revolver hit him high on the shoulder, oh the pain. But somehow the squat powerfully muscled native man only staggered back. His eyes closed in pain. But when he opened them, they almost glowed. His mouth cracked open, his teeth grit in a rictus of pain...and feral rage, "This Steel Horse mocks us? These white men mock us more then this Train does cousin!"

The squat native man slung the gunstock club from his shoulder, and despite the pain draws his own knife, long, heavy like a short sword almost, and the deadly looking tomahawk, "You and me [i]nistes[/i]. We dance the [i]Koman[/i] dance." He charged, any man cut, and shot should have run, but no. Mistihkoman charges, catches Sparrow up under his ribs and drives him back. The door into the next car thumps, cracks then shatters as Mistihkoman and Sparrow fly through it. The tackle lays the Navajo man on his back, as the Cree man sails past him rolling then back to his feet.

Mistihkoman grins, "I'm going to cut you, and you're going to cut me. And when the dust settles someone will lay here in a pool of blood. Maybe me, maybe you. Maybe both of us even. But when this is over, one of us will have gained a new scalp. And I like your hair [i]nistes[/i]. It'll look good hanging from my belt!" With a war whoop Mistihkoman launches himself at Sparrow, tomahawk already whistling down through the air at the grounded Navajo man's head.

[hider=Translations]

nistes = Cousin, my cousin, my first cousin, also a term of gentle respect between native peoples meeting for the first time

koman = knife, quite literally a "sharp edged tool" could be given to an adze or a edged file or rasp as well. But more often used to refer to knifes.

[/hider]