The man woke up from a tent. The peg rope is attached and tied inside. Has a fairly wide distance on the roof. Beside him, there was a glass made of clay. And food in the form of corn and fruit. Long hair shortened, mustache and thick brown beard trying to sit up. But his stomach hurts. Left hand holding his stomach. He touched the wound, which turned out to have stitches on the left. Moans from the throat were hoarse. Then switch hands to the glass, gulp it down until there is nothing left.
"Where am I exactly? It's totally fresh to drink."
"You've finally come to your senses, O stranger."
Instantly, the long-haired man stared wide-eyed at the old man in his fifties, walking while wearing a war bonnet. On his shoulder, the Bald eagle perched accompanied by being fed by one of the inhabitants of Powhatan. The eagle flapped its wings for a moment. Before finally being pacified by the Powhatan weroance itself.
"No way… this must be a joke, right?"
