Indians do not have strict naming standards, and their names are rather casual and diverse.
Some people's names are so weird that they are even unbearable to look at, while some people have dozens or even more names in their lifetime.
Other civilizations often go through similar stages, and mature and standardized naming systems generally appear in feudal society or even later.
Many Indians are given a nickname by their parents when they are born, a nickname by their tribesmen when they grow up, and a formal name when they become adults. They can be given a name that represents honor if they have made military achievements, or even a name with religious meanings based on a mysterious dream...
There are also ancestral names. A father can pass his name to his son, either as a legacy after his death or as a gift during his lifetime. Of course, if the father gives the name to his son while he is alive, you must choose a new name.
"Little Whistle" is the nickname given to Ma Shao by the tribe members because his father's nickname is "Big Whistle".
There is no special meaning. It is just because Daddy Dashao was born good at whistling. The whistle sound is loud and clear. By blowing the whistle, he can call his warhorse from a distance, so it later evolved into a "horse whistle".
Ma Shao inherited his father's name and talent. He is also very good at whistling, naturally a small whistle.
This is what the tribesmen usually call him.
"I escaped from the camp when the white people attacked," said Ma Shao.
The young man quickly asked, "Is there anyone else with you?"
"Probably... not." Ma Shao thought about it. He hadn't digested the memories left by this body yet. "I was the last one to escape. Some of my tribesmen also ran away, but not with me."
The young man was silent for a while after hearing this.
Then he remembered something and looked Ma Shao up and down: "Where did you get this clothes and this gun?"
Ma Shao explained: "A white man was chasing me and he fell down. Then I grabbed the gun on the ground and shot him."
Thick Shoulders pointed diagonally behind him and said, "Did you kill the white man whose coat was taken off over there?"
Ma Shao nodded.
Thick Shoulders smiled and said, "Although it was a fluke, you are very brave, just like your father."
"Let's go back to the camp first." As he said that, he reached out and pulled the whistle onto the horse's back, then turned the horse's head and went towards the camp.
"How does it feel to shoot?" Hou Jian looked at the Kentucky rifle in Ma Shao's hand.
"It's okay...it just hurts a lot when I hit people when I shoot." Ma Shao couldn't find a suitable Apache word to translate recoil, so he could only describe it this way.
Thick Shoulders nodded. "That's true, but that's not the main problem. I once got a Mexican gun, but it broke after a few uses. It's too troublesome to load it. Bows and axes are more convenient."
Ma Shao didn't say anything.
In this era, firearms still had many shortcomings, and it was common to mix cold and hot weapons. Not to mention the Indians, even white people often had to fight with bayonets on the battlefield.
Some Indians have learned to use firearms, but it has not yet become widely popular. At least the Sleeping Bear Clan he belongs to still uses cold weapons such as bows and arrows and tomahawks as their main weapons.
Occasionally, firearms captured in battle are either left to gather dust as collectibles, or are destroyed due to improper use, or cannot be used for a long time due to lack of ammunition and maintenance.
In Ma Shao's opinion, the real power of rifles began with the Prussian Dreyse needle-fire rifle.
The Dresser needle-fired gun was officially launched in 1841. He had previously estimated that by the early 1840s, Prussia should have completed its research and even started to equip itself with the weapon.
Of course, although the Kentucky rifle in his hand had many shortcomings compared with various powerful automatic rifles in later generations, he still regarded it as a treasure.
At longer distances, this thing is much more powerful than throwing axes and bows and arrows.
Soon, Ma Shao and Hou Jian rode back to the camp.
The sight was a mess, with various objects and signs of destruction scattered around the camp, and dozens of scalped corpses lying on the ground.
The tribesmen were all extremely sad. Many of them lay beside the corpses and cried, while painting a pattern on their faces with black paint - this symbolized the departure of their loved ones.
A huge loss.
After all, the Mianxiong clan only had a total of 120 to 130 people. After this battle, most of the women and children in the clan were killed, which could almost be described as a state of "quasi-genocide".
Ma Shao couldn't help but clench his fists and his breathing became a little rapid.
In fact, the personality of the previous owner of this body did not disappear, but merged with the personality from the 21st century.
Of course, compared with a young man who comes from the era of information explosion and has received systematic education, the spiritual world of a nine-year-old Indian child is too thin. Therefore, after the fusion of the two, the old personality is greatly diluted.
But this does not mean that Ma Shao has no feelings for the clan nowadays.
At least at this moment, looking at the dozens of bodies of relatives and friends lying on the ground and listening to the cries of pain in the air, his emotions were deeply shaken.
"The North American slave-owning gang must be destroyed!" The two personalities found a point of convergence, and Ma Shao felt that his spiritual world instantly became much smoother, as if a certain fusion process had finally been completed.
"What did you say?"
"Oh, nothing." Ma Shao reacted and realized that what he had just spoken was Chinese, and Sichuan dialect.
Thick Shoulders didn't take it seriously. After a moment's silence, he said, "The chief and the shaman are discussing a way out."
"A way out?"
"We may seek refuge with other brother clans. Only in this way can we reproduce." Thick Shoulders sighed, "We almost have no women and children left."
If this were to happen, the name of the Sleeping Bear Clan would disappear, and the clan members would become part of other clans. Although this was better than biological extinction, it was undoubtedly a sad choice.
Ma Shao didn't feel anything about this. If the Indians wanted to rise, they naturally couldn't stick to a small Sleeping Bear clan, or even the Apache tribe. They must definitely go through a series of large-scale integrations.
Only by uniting all the indigenous peoples of the Americas can the rule of Western colonists be dismantled.
There is no way, the foundation of the indigenous people is too weak. Compared with the Indians, the late Qing Dynasty can be said to have had a kingly start: hundreds of millions of people with a highly unified culture, governments at all levels that were corrupt and rigid but at least fully functional, an agricultural foundation laid over thousands of years, and science and technology that was backward but at least able to benefit from Western tailpipes...
This giant ancient civilization, which has been tempered by thousands of times, does not need to fear any invaders on the earth, and can even fight back, as long as someone can reorganize a strong and efficient central government.
The Indians are a fragmented Stonepunk society with backward productivity, backward social organization, almost no science and technology, a sharp decline in population, a host of internal conflicts, countless tribes, and no recognition of each other.
Even if we could unite all the Indians, there would probably only be a slim chance of rising in America.
While Ma Shao was daydreaming, a middle-aged man with long hair and wearing a gray robe came over. He was wearing tassels and beads and had five feathers on his head, and he looked very prestigious.
In fact, he is Stonecrow, the shaman of the Sleeping Bear clan.
"Come with me to see the chief." Shi Ya waved to Ma Shao with an expressionless face, then turned and left.