First person:The days have been hard, with these people attacking us. They call themselves 'Americans', and they have been pushing us out of OUR land! They keep destroying mother natures home, and they don't seem to care.. They have these things they can sit on, while moving. They have ears, four holder-upper-thingy's, and saddles.. They sound like 'clump, clump, NEIGH,' and we think it might disturb nature. My little brother, was taken hostage by the whites. Father tried to get him back, but they ended up killing him. Hopefully they don't cut down this tree I lay hiding in, and that my mother survives. Good bye, diary.
Third person: BAM! SMACK! The Americans are moving in. The women and children run for cover. The Indian men hold the fire, while their family scampers into the forest. The men are out numbered, and many die. Others are hold hostage, just like little Charkor, who is forced to sharpen blades for the whites. Americans win, taking all Indian land, and pushing them back.
