[ TT ] A battle ensued , neither side won . Only two soldiers made it out , both on opposing sides . They come face to face with each other , you decide what happens next .

The smoke of the battle drifted over the young soldier's head, and the stillness was broken only by the call of a raven. 
 
 He lay with his back against the belly of a dead horse and his carbine lay spent and empty across his lap. His body ached from his being thrown from his horse and his brow was sliced and swollen from a lance wound. He struggled to gain footing in the bloodied, muddy ground as he gazed at the carnage around him. 
 
 Bodies of men, uniformed and not, lay across one another in no discernible pattern. The two sides had closed on each other quickly and the jaws of war had chewed them regardless of skin color or creed. Here and there lay the mounds of horses, their lives taken along with their riders. In the distance, surviving horses grazed upon the prairie grass seemingly oblivious of the battle which had recently taken place. 
 
 The young man slowly made his way through the refuse of war noting his comrades as he went. His captain still held a savage in his hands, both paused in screams of brutality. He saw the bloodied body of his friend, the only other Tennessee boy in the outfit, lying face first in bloodied mud with arrows sprouting from his back. 
 
 He felt he should cry. He should scream. He should run blindly in horror. But he walked along numbly, his mind shielding him from the emotion of the witnessed horror. 
 
 The call of a raven sounded to his left, and he instinctively jerked his head toward the sound. Perched upon a uniformed back, the bird cawed around a mouthful of meat. Beyond the bird stood a figure, tall amongst the bodies around him. 
 
 The figure began walking toward the young soldier, picking its way through fallen man and beast. As he grew closer, the young soldier grew alarmed. The figure wore the nakedness of a Lakota, his bronze skin showing of sweat, blood, and gunpowder. 
 
 The young soldier backed away, falling backwards against a painted warhorse. He looked desperately for a weapon. He snatched at a fallen lance and held the unfamiliar weapon in front of him. 
 
 The Lakota warrior stood only paces away and paused looking at the bloodied cavalryman. He gestured at the bodies around them and gestured greatly at the world beyond. He began to speak. 
 
 `` My brothers have fallen. Your brothers are fallen. We are the all that is left to speak of their sacrifice. Go back to your people and tell them of Lakota bravery. Tell them of the great battle that left only two men alive. Today we are brothers. Wayunoniham.'' 
 
 The warrior turned and began walking away. The cavalryman looked down at the lance in his bloodied hands and let the weapon fall to the ground. A raven cawed and he looked up at a plain filled with only dead men.
