[ WP ] You are William Clark from the Lewis and Clark Expedition . You walk into Lewis 's tent unannounced and what you find once inside changes everything .

`` Hey, Lewis, the river this morning is absolutely aglow! Come see, and take a few sketches for me, will ya?'' Clark scratched the rawhide panel of the teepee of the loaned Shoshone dwelling before pushing aside the entry flap. `` Even old Charboneau had to stop whining long enough to admire...'' 
 
 The old friend of Captain Clark was sitting before the cold hearth, a gourd bowl in his lap and his wrist cradled gently in his other hand. 
 
 `` Merri, what are you doing?'' Clark moved carefully, but Lewis looked up calmly, no alarm in his placid face. 
 
 `` Oh, just letting some blood,'' Lewis admitted, clinical as always. `` I've been feverish, damn mosquitoes, you know and I'm relieving the poison.'' 
 
 Will scowled. `` And judging by your precision, this is n't your first case of ague.'' 
 
 `` No, and I do n't believe it will be the last, though I appreciate your concern, Will,'' Lewis dumped the ruby contents of the gourd into the coals of the dead hearth and tossed the refuse aside for one of the squaws to pick up later. He gathered his sketchbooks and a charcoal stick. `` Let's see that river.'' 
 
 Clark drew in a deep breath as the scruffy co-captain of their infant journey greeted the misty sunrise of the Indian plains. 
 
 It would come as no surprise, five years later on a troubling trip to DC, that Meriwether Lewis died of self-inflicted gunshot wounds. 
 
 *A/N: I've taken liberties, but this is rather historically accurate, though self-inflicted wounds are a stretch when compared to the many accounts of the event. My favorite book as a young teen was * Sacajawea *by Anna Lee Waldo*. 
 
 *Edit: Missouri river does n't reach that far.
