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Escape From Manitou Island: Part 146 |
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(DISCLAIMER: This part, and all parts hereafter, are works in progress (WIPs) and have not been proofread or checked for plot inconsistencies. I've decided to present them "as is" for now, as there is a significant amount of unfinished material; yet this story has been on hiatus for a long while, I've forgotten certain details, and I have no plans to resume work on it any time soon. Please keep in mind while reading that details may change in the future. Should you spot an inconsistency, however, please feel free to point it out to me for possible correction.)
STRAINED RELATIONS THOMAS FLUNG HIS arm out, a snarl on his face, and a gust of icy wind lashed out at Francois. Manabozho threw up his hands a split second later and sent another gust of wind sailing at Thomas, but it didn't appear to affect him at all; Moon Wolf didn't get to hurl his fire, as Thomas's wind grabbed hold of the barrel of Francois's gun and jerked it up so it fired into the treetops. Francois had enough time to blink in surprise before Thomas launched himself at him and punched him in the face so he collapsed in the snow. Mani whistled shrilly and lowered his head as if to attack, Manabozho raising his hands again with a panicked look on his face. But all that Thomas did was whirl around and start running in the direction that he'd been going in before they'd stopped him. "Charmian!" he shouted. Francois, pushing himself up and rubbing painfully at his jaw, jerked a hand at Moon Wolf. "Stop him!" Moon Wolf scowled and raised his hand, flinging a blue fireball. It connected with Thomas's back and toppled him instantly. As soon as he started trying to push himself up, another one hit him, and he let out a pained yell when the fire enveloped him, as if he'd been doused with an accelerant. Augwak put his hands to his eyes, looking ready to faint. Manabozho's own eyes goggled. "Are you--are you trying to kill him?!" he exclaimed, and ran at Moon Wolf, flailing his arms. "No disrespect intended but do you know what a BAD IDEA that'll be when Charmian comes back--?!" "It won't kill him!" Moon Wolf snarled, and drew his arms back. The fire seemed to tighten around Thomas, who started screaming and curled in on himself as if ensnared in a net; after a moment Moon Wolf glanced at Francois, frustrated. "I can hardly incapacitate him if I have to keep doing this!" Tramping noises came up the slope behind them and Stick-In-The-Dirt appeared, holding ropes in his hands. "I--I heard all the hideous noise!!" he cried. "I wondered if you could even--" He cut himself off, seeing Moon Wolf struggling with Thomas, and his eyes looked ready to fall from his head. "Baptiste! You!" Francois called out, and the younger voyageur and Manabozho both looked at him. He waved at Thomas. "Help me with him! We have to get him back to the lodge before he attracts every mitchi manitou in the area!" He took the ropes from Stick-In-The-Dirt and the three of them approached Thomas almost gingerly. By now Thomas was digging his fingers into the fire, even though it looked like this hurt, and snarling as he tugged on it. He alternated between doing this and grimacing and writhing in pain; the fire apparently wasn't burning him, but it looked no less agonizing than the real thing. His eyes were glowing even brighter now, and his teeth even seemed to have grown sharper; when they saw the claws on his hands, Manabozho and Baptiste both stepped back again, but Francois steeled himself, still wielding the ropes. "As soon as he takes that fire away we have to be ready for him," he said to them. "Both of you do what you do best--whatever that is!" Manabozho and Baptiste nodded, Mani coming up on Thomas's other side and lowering his antlers in case he should try to escape. Thomas noticed them surrounding him now and his eyes grew wide; he stopped struggling long enough to glance from one to another, and his knuckles went white. "What are you doing?" he screamed. "Have you all absolutely lost it?!" "You're coming back to the camp with us," Francois said, "and waiting there until Charmian returns." Thomas blinked at him, then bared his teeth and began fighting the fire anew. "Like HELL I am! Let me out of this! You've all lost your damned MINDS!!" "Ready," Manabozho said, and Baptiste nodded. Manabozho was holding his hands out and the other voyageur had his gun ready. "Ready," another voice said, and Pakwa ambled up beside Mani, raising his own hand. Francois nodded curtly, then looked to Moon Wolf. Moon Wolf made a face, then abruptly jerked his hand back through the air, and the blue fire evaporated into nothing. Thomas surged to his feet--but before he could get even halfway up, Baptiste had hit him with the butt of his gun, and Manabozho had belted him with a gust of wind, and Pakwa had hurled another gust of wind which promptly knocked him back to the ground. As soon as Thomas collapsed, they piled atop him, Mani standing off to the side and keeping his antlers lowered just in case. Pakwa sat on Thomas's back while Baptiste and Manabozho grabbed at his arms, Moon Wolf and Stick-In-The-Dirt grabbing his legs, and Francois began tying him up with the ropes. Thomas struggled against them the entire time, practically frothing at the mouth. "WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" Everyone else who had been down at the lodge came up the slope and into the woods now, even Remy, pausing to look on in awe. Peepaukawiss had to cover Kenu's ears when Thomas let forth a stream of expletives which made even Baptiste blush. It was a struggle just to keep him pinned down, but at last he'd been hogtied, and everyone carefully got off of him. Moon Wolf approached and began looking him over while the others straightened themselves out, as he'd messed them up somewhat during the fight. "He doesn't appear to be wounded," Moon Wolf said with a frown. He looked at Thomas's head. "His hair all seems intact, though it's difficult to tell with how he won't stop moving around like that." Thomas twisted his head around, eyes livid. "Would you mind GETTING THESE TIES off me?" he hissed. "It's for your own good!" Puka exclaimed, picking up Kenu now--apparently since Marten wasn't available--and mashing the little Animiki to his breast. Kenu began squirming and yelping to no avail. "We hardly need ANOTHER Wendigo coming after us and trying to eat us all!" "For the LAST damned time, I'm NOT a bloody WENDIGO!!" Thomas yelled. He strained at the ropes, tugging on both arms and legs, but only succeeded in rolling over. Already they were starting to cut into him and Francois waved at the others. "We should get him back as soon as we can. I doubt these ropes will manage to hold him if he fully changes." "Hold on a moment," Manabozho said, and nudged Moon Wolf aside. He stooped down to look at Thomas's foot, which was bent up next to his hands. "His strange moccasin-thingie is torn." Moon Wolf and Francois both leaned down to look. There was a small hole in Thomas's shoe; on seeing it, the other two shared a look, then Francois grasped Thomas's ankle while Moon Wolf pulled the shoe off. Thomas started yelling and snarling anew, trying to kick, without much success; Moon Wolf pulled down his sock as well and frowned at the mark on his heel. "It's not fresh," he said. "So we didn't just give it to him ourselves." "The blood's still a little bit red," Manabozho said with a frown of his own. "So it's not that old, either." Mani whistled. They turned to look at him and he gestured at Thomas with his antler. Hold! Remember hearing him call 'Ouch' in little forest ones' wood. Red Land One thought he stepped on one. At that moment, a little forest one ran away. Do not remember seeing it again...but then again, wasn't really looking. He lowered his head a bit, seeming ashamed. "No," Moon Wolf said, his frown growing, "you had no reason to look for it. That was the point exactly--something no one would really notice." He turned back to Francois and Manabozho, ignoring Thomas's struggles to free himself. "Mishosha used the Pukwudjininees to get to us this time." "But the Pukwudjininees are so kind," Stick-In-The-Dirt protested. "How could he possibly get them to do such a thing?" "Dolls," a voice said, and they looked back to see Little Wind standing nearer the slope. He was wringing his hands. "He has all sorts of them," he said. "I wouldn't find it hard to believe that he had some for Pukwudjininees too." "He's starting to get tiresome with these dolls," Moon Wolf muttered, and stepped back as Francois grasped onto Thomas's ropes. Baptiste grabbed onto him as well and they hoisted him up, Thomas yelling in pain as they did so, and turned with him between them to carry him back to the lodge. Everybody gave each other odd looks before turning to slowly follow. The wind and snow abated somewhat, so it wasn't too much of a struggle to get back, though Thomas certainly didn't make it easy for the two voyageurs, who stumbled and sank in the snow now and then. "I can hit him in the head if you like," Moon Wolf offered in all seriousness. "I think this is a splendid idea!" Augwak, creeping behind Mani, called out. "What if he breaks free and tries to eat ME? I've already had more than enough trouble being gnawed on by cannibals!!" Thomas twisted his head around at an uncomfortable angle. "As if I'd ever want to sink my teeth into a pile of excrement like YOU!" Augwak stuck his head out and shook his fist. "LIKEWISE, HALFLING!!" "You might need to work on the fire once we get back," Francois suggested. "I doubt the one we have already will be much help." "I'll go and see to this now," Moon Wolf said, and tramped off ahead of them. Little Wind bit his lip and hesitated a moment before hurrying to follow him. Stick-In-The-Dirt moved to walk at their side, shaking his rattle. "What if the others don't come back with Charmian and Winter Born?" he asked. "And we have to set out looking for them ourselves--or what if we have to keep moving? You believe we can really do so with him like this?" "We might have no choice," Francois admitted. "Not unless we can get that doll from that wabano, and after we got back that other one, I doubt he'll be so accommodating a second time." The medicine man sighed. "I miss the Island," he said, and resumed shaking his rattle. Lieutenant Barrington couldn't believe that he was being outrun by a little girl, in snow, no less. Winter Born's feet seemed to fly right through it, her braids flying through the air behind her. "Come on!" she yelled over her shoulder every so often, and he had to grind his teeth to keep from growling in response, she was getting so irritating. He tried to convince himself every so often that his trigger finger itched, but to his annoyance it didn't; for some reason he felt a little guilty now at the thought of having wanted to point the gun at her. His pace kept slowing the further they went, until he was walking and she was running on ahead. He shook one boot miserably and decided not to care if she ran off, since apparently she knew very well where she was going. She turned her head to call back to him again, however, and saw how far away he was, then stopped and waited a moment for him to catch up; when this took longer than she'd expected, she came running back toward him. Barrington was too tired to scowl at her. "What is it?" she panted as she slowed down before him and fell into step at his side. "How come you're going so slow?" "Ever stop to think that perhaps not everybody is as hyperactive as you?" Barrington grumbled. Winter Born frowned. "High-per-ack-tiv...?" She shrugged it off. "The hills around here feel kind of more familiar, so I think we must be getting closer! But I can't be sure." She looked meek. "I didn't really see where I was going. There was too much snow." "Really," Barrington said under his breath. "Uh-huh." She nodded. "Like a blizzard! But it's a lot clearer now, see?" She waved at him. "Come on! We have to see what that Wendigo has to do with the camp! I really hope everyone's okay..." She turned, jogged a few paces, then stopped and looked back at him again with a frown. "Well...?" She moved back toward him. "Why are you moving so slow? Did you hurt your leg?" "No," Barrington muttered. "Your foot maybe?" "No." She looked him over quickly. "You know, you could probably move a lot faster without that big old stick." "I'm not leaving behind my big old stick, thank you very much." She shrugged. "Just a suggestion. Do your knees hurt--?" "Look," Barrington said, giving her a foul look which she apparently missed, "why don't you just go on ahead, and I'll catch up in my own time? Since you seem to be itching so much to head off. I'll just follow your bloody tracks, so I won't get lost. And then you won't have to worry your pretty little head about me, all right?" "But my tracks aren't bloody..." Winter Born said with a furrowed brow, but just in case, she stooped to look at her moccasins. Barrington ran his hand down his face and found that now he just wanted to turn his gun on himself. "Are your feet bloody...?" she asked, and ducked her head, walking that way beside him awkwardly and closely observing his feet. She popped upright again, her frown returning. "Those funny moccasins you're wearing," she said. "How can you even walk in those? They go almost up to your knees. And they're all shiny, they don't look nice and soft at all." To illustrate her point, she bent to flick her fingers at his boot, and Barrington let out a startled noise and hopped, almost falling over. Winter Born jumped back with a gasp when he couldn't regain his balance and ended up sinking to one knee in the snow. He winced and rubbed at his boot, giving her a venomous look. "Would you mind keeping your damned little redskin hands to YOURSELF?!" he barked. Winter Born blinked, then peered down at his leg. "Your feet are bothering you...?" Before he could protest, she was stooping before him and tugging on his boot. Barrington yelled and tried jerking his leg back, but her grasp was like that of a crab, and she suddenly went flying backwards, boot and all. She landed on her bottom just as she had when they'd met earlier, clasping the boot in her hands, and pushed herself upright. Her eyes grew wide and she dropped it beside her, shuffling toward him and peering at his stocking. "Your foot is bloody!" she exclaimed. Barrington ground his teeth and leaned forward and to the side to see his ankle. The color red had seeped through the white, and now that the boot had been yanked off he could better feel the blisters throbbing there. Feeling beyond irritated by now, he scooped up some snow and packed it against his ankle with a hiss. "Are you happy now?" he snapped at her, and she flinched. "You should've just left the damned thing on! Now I'll probably scrape off half the skin just trying to get it back on, and it'll hurt like bloody hell! Do you live just to make everyone around you absolutely miserable--?" He expected his tirade to make her cry and run off, thus leaving him alone as he wished to be left, and he accordingly began struggling to get to his feet. However, all that she did was frown at him even more and more, then sit and watch as he grabbed his boot back and started fighting to put it back on. He winced and hissed the entire time, until having to give up; his ankle must be swollen by now. He dropped the boot and kicked it out of frustration, then shook his foot when his toe started throbbing. "That's no way to get your foot feeling better," Winter Born said. Barrington threw up his hands and whirled on her. "THANK YOU for the information!!" He viciously pointed southeast. "Would you MIND going on your bloody way now?!" "But you can't walk," Winter Born said. "I can't leave you behind!" This time he ran his fingernails down his face. "Look," he said, fighting to keep his voice from rising into a scream, "I've walked around with blisters plenty of times in the past, and I'll do it plenty of times in the future, that is, unless you don't get going, and make me put my damned gun to my head!! I hardly need some little rugrat SAVAGE helping me along! Now will you PLEASE get going?" Winter Born pursed her lips. "How come you keep calling me a savage?" He flung up his arms again. "Because that's what you people ARE!!" "But we're not the ones blasting off firesticks at people." Barrington opened his mouth to retort, when what she'd actually said made its way through, and he ended up letting out his breath in a whoosh. He'd heard similar arguments before, but for some reason this time no counterarguments wanted to come, and all that he could do was sink down in the snow again and put his head in his hands, exhausted. He sensed the girl tensing a bit, before she came toward him and bent down to try to peer at his face. "Are you still okay...?" "Go away," Barrington muttered. "I hardly have the patience." She frowned. "Well, whatever that means, it doesn't matter because we both have to make it back to the camp. Come on, it can't be that far away!" She bit her lip. "Though you really can't walk much in those tall moccasins..." She stood up and turned in a circle, then let out a gasp and went running off. "Be right back!" Take your time, Barrington thought, but he was too tired to bother saying it. He stared at the snow between his knees, every bit of him feeling heavy. Even if he did end up freezing to death out here, it seemed like a pretty nice fate, and not worth fighting against. "But we're not the ones blasting off firesticks at people..." It was a mistake. Won't anybody get it? A MISTAKE. I could have just as easily shot him on purpose but I didn't! How can I help it that the gun misfired? It's not like it was any great loss. It was just another savage. If it was no great loss then why am I justifying it to myself...? He lifted his head at last to glare in the direction that the girl had gone in. If he'd gotten lost on his own, it would be much better. If he'd gotten killed back at the fort, even that would have been better. This place and these people were far too strange for him. He winced when he felt the weight on his back and unshouldered his gun to set it beside him. He stared at it for a long while. Although it wasn't the same gun as the one he'd arrived with on the Island, still, it was much the same, and he looked at it as such. He'd trained for months with such a thing--had placed his life in its hands many times over--and hadn't even gotten to fire it in the fort. And then when it had fired, all of this had happened. He started scowling at the gun. It was just as good a scapegoat as any. Distant shushing noises made him look up, and he blinked to see the girl returning, carrying something in her hands. He furrowed his brow to see how proud of herself she looked, as well as the odd way in which she shuffled across the snow, not even sinking into it now. She waved what she was carrying and he found himself surprised to see that it looked like snowshoes. "Look what I just made!" Winter Born exclaimed, sliding to a halt before him--for she was wearing a pair as well, smaller than the ones she was carrying--and dropping to her knees. "I had some in the mountains but lost them...I'll have to be more careful now. They're not as good as the ones Father makes," she admitted with a small frown, "and I couldn't make the moccasin part right, because I don't have enough deerskin on me...but I used my old moccasins from before, and dug up some grass and leaves and knotted it to them, and it's better than wearing those tall moccasins..." "You do realize, strange little girl," Barrington said, "that if I keep my boots off my feet will freeze?" "Not if you keep moving," Winter Born insisted. "I've gone barefoot in the snow before! It isn't the most fun thing to do, but you can do it, for a little while at least. Besides, with these, you'll be walking on the snow, so unless you go walking wrong, that won't be a problem!" Barrington rubbed at his eyes. "Do you have any idea how little sense you actually make--?" "Come on!" Winter Born said, and tugged on his arm. "Put them on. You just tie this part over like this..." She placed the snowshoe against his foot and began fiddling with the knotted grass, but as soon as she did so he let out a startled yell, and then started laughing hysterically. She jerked back a little, eyes wide, as he gasped for breath; then her brow furrowed and she reached out to touch the bottom of his foot. When he couldn't help laughing again her face slowly lit up. "Hey! You're ticklish!" she exclaimed, as if this were the most amusing news in the world, and before he could say a thing she was tickling his foot like crazy. Barrington wanted to scream at her to knock it off but all that came out was a cackle, and he fell back in the snow, pressing his hands to his eyes and laughing and crying at the same time. "Tickle tickle tickle tickle!" Winter Born cried, and it was a good while before he was finally able to catch his breath and yank his foot away from her, pushing himself up and grabbing at the snowshoe so abruptly that she gasped and jumped. He still fought to breathe as he swept the tears from his eyes. "STOP THAT!!" he shouted, voice cracking. "ARE YOU A BLOODY FOOL?!" He jammed the shoe against his foot and with a scowl commenced tying it on. He was surprised to see that she'd cut her old moccasins and knotted them back together in such a way that most of his foot was actually covered after all, and wondered how she'd managed to do that so quickly. He winced as he tugged off his other boot and put on the second snowshoe, then awkwardly clambered to his feet, the girl following. He tested them a bit, found them serviceable, then gave her such a glare that she wilted a bit and began fiddling her fingers. He picked up his gun and boots. "Don't you EVER go touching me like that again!" he snapped. "If you do I'll rip your damned fingers off! Got it?" Winter Born's eyes started to well up. Then they suddenly cleared and went dry, and her lower lip slowly stuck out in a scowl. "Got it," she grumbled, apparently more cross than anything. As soon as he turned away he heard her mutter, "You don't have to be so mean about everything." He started walking, which took a bit of adjusting to as he wasn't used to snowshoes. He heard her start to follow, and within no time she was at his side again. His fingers grasped the gun tighter and his jaw tensed as he thought of what to yell at her this time. "Father used to tickle me when I was little," she said, "but he said I was getting too old for it." She gave him a dark look. "You're just like him sometimes!" And she turned away with a flounce, braids flying, and went sliding off across the snow like an ice skater. Barrington's mouth fell open but all that came out was a croak of disbelief at the comparison, and it was another moment or two before he could even start walking again. |