Non veni pacem mittere, sed gladium.
The elk teeth give the clothes a nice touch. It reminds me of a Kipling poem of roughly the same time period, written about a different place."When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains, and the women come out to cut up what remains, jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains and go to your gawd like a soldier."Mule Woman would skin you and cut your nards off while you're awake and aware.
Now that's a mental image!