Michael Blake

My name is Dances with Wolves. I have nothing to say to you. You are not worth talking to.

Killing those soldiers at the river was a good thing. I never got to thank all of you for saving me. I did not mind killing those men. I was glad to do it. But now I know that the soldiers hate me like they hate no other. Because I killed soldiers, men of my own race, they think I am a traitor.

And now they will hunt for me. And when they find me they will find you. I think it would be wise to move the village to another location right now. As for me… I will be leaving. I will be leaving with my wife Stands With a Fist as soon as possible. I must go and try to talk to those that will listen.

With Ten Bears, it was always more than a while. There was purpose in everything he did, and I knew he wanted me to stay. But I was sure of myself. I would be an excuse, and that's all the Army would need to find this place. I pushed him as far as I could to move the camp. But in the end, he only smiled and talked of simple pleasures. He reminded me that at his age, a good fire was better than anything. Ten Bears was an extraordinary man.

If it wasn't for my companion, I believe I'd be having the time of my life.

Many times I'd felt alone, but until this afternoon I'd never felt completely lonely.

Nothing I have been told about these people is correct. They are not thieves or beggars. They are not the bogeymen they are made out to be. On the contrary, they are polite guests and I enjoy their humor.

Who would do such a thing? The field was proof enough that it was a people without value and without soul, with no regard for Sioux rights. The wagon tracks leading away left little doubt and my heart sank as I knew it could only be white hunters. Voices that had been joyous all morning were now as silent as the dead buffalo left to rot in this valley, killed only for their tongues and the price of their hides.

They were a people so eager to laugh, so devoted to family, so dedicated to each other. The only word that comes to mind is harmony.

I had never really known who John Dunbar was. Perhaps because the name itself had no meaning. But as I heard my Sioux name being called over and over, I knew for the first time who I really was.

It seems every day ends with a miracle here. And whatever God may be, I thank God for this day.

It was hard to know how to feel. I had never been in a battle like this one. This had not been a fight for territory or riches or to make men free. This battle had no ego. It had been fought to preserve the food stores that would see us through winter, to protect the lives of women and children and loved ones only a few feet away. I felt a pride I had never felt before.

Dances with Wolves! I am Wind In His Hair. Do you see that I am your friend? Can you see that you will always be my friend?

I do not care for this talk about a white man at the soldier fort. Whoever he is he is not a Sioux and that makes him less. We took more then a hundred horses from these people and there was no honor in it. They don't ride well. They don't shoot well. They're dirty. Those so-called "soldiers" could not make it through one winter in our country. And all these people are said to flourish? I think they will all be dead soon... maybe in ten years.

Kicking Bird is always looking ahead and while that is good, he doesn't know this lone white man. This white man cannot hunt, cover our lodges, or feed our children. He is nothing to us! I will take some warriors with me and we will shoot some arrows into the white man. If he truly has medicine, he will not be hurt. If he has no medicine, he will be dead.

He was a good man… It has been hard for me to like you. I am not the thinker Kicking Bird is. I always feel anger first. There were no answers to my questions. But now I think he went away because you were coming. That is how I see it.