|
Escape From Manitou Island: Part 149 |
|
(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.)
UNFRIENDLY FIRE HE COULDN'T BELIEVE it. His feet actually weren't falling off. Yet. Lieutenant Barrington couldn't stop frowning down at his snowshoes. While it was true that his feet stung, and felt a little numb now and then, they were holding up as long as he kept walking. The wind wasn't blowing as hard here anymore, and when it did it blew in the same direction that they were headed, so the going was even easier than he'd figured it would be. He still could have done without the little savage girl's company, but at least she wasn't trying to tickle him anymore. "I miss the Island," she said after a while of silence, and sighed. "Do you miss your home?" she asked innocently enough, looking up at him. Barrington fought a scowl, not quite successfully. "Hate to break it to you little girl but I have no more home." "None...?" Her brow furrowed, then her stare drifted toward the ground. "Oh. I'm sorry." "'I'm sorry' is hardly good enough, thank you very much," Barrington replied shortly, shaking some snow off of his shoe. "Sorry," she said again, then winced a little. "I'm sorry that I'm sorry!" She shook her head. "As soon as this is all taken care of," she said instead, shuffling her own shoes against the snow, "I'm going to ask Father if I'm old enough for my vision, because I'm getting tired of waiting and I think I've been through enough! Most people don't go through as much stuff as this before having a vision. Right? Do your people have visions?" "Only when we're stone drunk," Barrington replied. She frowned a little as if puzzled, then shrugged it off. "Well...when we get back, that's what I'm going to do. And it's going to be a really good vision. I'm going to fast for ten whole days if I have to! The boys in the next camp over laugh at me because of my hair, and say bad things..." her enthusiasm dimmed a little "...but I'll show them. Little Thistle fasted for only three days. And I'm betting his manitou is NOTHING to be impressed by! Though I'd never say that to any of them--because that's really rude." She put a hand to her mouth, looking contrite. "But I'll make sure to fast as long as I possibly can, and get the most powerful manitou possible..." she started doing cartwheels, much to his disbelief "...and then I'll be the Island's most powerful medicine woman, and I'll talk with all the manitous there are, and they'll all listen to me..." "You sound a dreadful lot like that fellow who's behind all this rubbish in the first place," Barrington said. Winter Born halted, standing upon her hands, then yelped and sank into the snow. She pushed herself up and dusted it from her dress. "Huh--?" she asked, brow furrowing again. "You mean Megissogwun--?" "I mean that nasty fellow who keeps turning himself into a bear," Barrington replied in annoyance. When she gave him a blank look he scowled. "I rather got the impression that's his goal too, isn't it--? Commanding all the manitous and being most powerful and whatnot? That is what those witch-savages do, isn't it?" Winter Born's eyes grew as big as moons. "Huh? NO!" She started walking backwards so that she faced him, an appalled look on her face. "I'd NEVER be anything like him! I don't want to command manitous! I just want--" "You want them to do what you say, right?" Barrington cut in. "You want to be the most powerful witch doctor or medicine woman or whatever it is, right? You want to be able to do all those fancy impressive things, isn't it? Well?" he pressed when her face went bright red. "It's--it's not ANYTHING like that!" she cried. "He wants to do bad things! I want to do good things!" "So that's why you killed that manitou," Barrington said, without thinking. She sucked in a breath, and he got ready for her to start yelling or protesting anew, as he'd learned that she didn't seem to cry very much like other little girls did. Which was why he was so surprised when her eyes welled up with tears, and she immediately turned away and began running--or at least, walking faster, considering that she was wearing snowshoes. He frowned as he watched her go slide-slide-sliding away over a rise, her braids flying out behind her. She disappeared from sight. Barrington rolled his eyes. "Finally. Some peace and quiet." He topped the rise and began making his way down the other side, scowling when he heard her sniffling coming from a stand of trees off to the right. "Oh, come off it!" he shouted. "It's only God's own truth and you said it yourself. Why you decide to get all blubbery now, I have no idea!" "It's--it's NOT the truth!" she sniffled in return. He could clearly see her tracks leading to the trees but decided not to follow, simply stopping and rubbing at his feet to make sure they weren't frostbitten yet. "You turned around everything I said! I'm never going to be ANYTHING like Mishosha!" "I fail to see why this is such a big issue all of a sudden," Barrington said, very much hating that he was arguing with a savage. This elicited no response, so he let out an irritated sigh and started tramping after her. He stopped at the tree where her tracks led and opened his mouth to speak, before noticing that there was nobody there. He blinked, then thought to look upward. Sure enough...she was seated atop the next-to-lowest branch, rubbing at her nose. Barrington fought down a grumble and crossed his arms, glaring up at her. "And now you're even turning into a bear yourself," he muttered. "Come down from there before you break your neck!" "You're not my father!" she retorted. He felt like pulling out his own hair. "I rather GET that already! Now get your little red arse down here!" She stuck out her tongue. "My arse is just fine where it is!!" Barrington fought the urge to pull at his gun. "If you don't come down by the time I count to--" He cut himself off and gawked when she just started climbing up higher. "What in the HELL are you doing?!" "Getting away from YOU!" she snapped, grabbing a limb. "Because that's what you want anyway!" "I did NOT say that!" With a grumble he stepped up to the trunk and looked it over skeptically before seizing the lowest branch. "Now get down here before I wring your stupid neck!" "No! I don't have to!" She saw him coming and began scrambling up as fast as a squirrel. Barrington started cursing under his breath, barely able to keep his hold on the lowest branch without falling off. He glared up at her but could barely even see her anymore. "Go on!" her voice called from high above him. "I don't need a babysitter anyway! All you ever want to do is call me names and complain and stuff! I made you shoes and everything. You're just a--um--DUMBASS!" "I'm going to cut off her braids and knit stockings out of them," Barrington muttered, then let go of the branch and dropped to the ground. "FINE then! Freeze to death or starve or whatever it is you want up there!" He turned around. "I'm through dealing with a foul little brat like you. The only reason I'm going back to that bloody camp is because it's my only way OUT of this place and back HOME!" "I thought you said you HAD NO HOME!!" Barrington ground his teeth hard enough to hurt as he stomped away from the trees, ignoring the sting in his ankles. Arguing with children, red or white, was never worth it. He did listen and caught the sound of her making her way back down the tree--apparently the thought of being left behind in a strange place wasn't as tempting as she'd thought--but didn't bother slowing down to let her catch up. He heard the thud of her snowshoes hitting the ground, and then the noise of her sliding after him, still sniffling. "No wonder you came here alone!" she groused. "The way you act you must have no friends!" "Better off that way," Barrington grumbled under his breath. "That way they won't get all KILLED OFF!" "Killed off--?" He yelped and jumped, nearly tripping over his snowshoes; she was right beside him again and he hadn't even noticed her. He gave her an infuriated look but all that she did was stare back with big eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked, and he could tell that she had no idea. That irritated him even more, and he resumed his awkward shuffle through the snow. "None of your business! Now make up your mind whether you're coming or going so we can get this thing OVER with!" "You think somebody's going to try to kill you...?" She appeared at his side again and managed to keep pace no matter how much he sped up. "Why would you think that?" she asked, as if it were the most unbelievable thing in the world. "Because somebody already tried," he snapped at last, halting and giving her a vicious look which made her flinch. "A whole group of savages just like yourself! Men and women! They killed off most of my comrades, and imprisoned the rest, and it was only by a stroke of luck that I got out alive. Recall that wound to my shoulder--?" He jerked a thumb at it and she nodded. "That's what another friendly redskin tried to do to me with the business end of his hatchet! See now how you're all alike? That bear fellow's been trying to kill us all along and you can sit there and say with a straight face that you won't end up doing the same--?" Her eyes grew bigger and bigger the more that he talked, and he wondered if he should even be saying such things at all, but it was rather too late to stop. He at last finished his tirade and went storming across the snow again, leaving her behind. He heard her begin to follow a little while later, but she said nothing, and he preferred it that way. Are you really going to hold a little girl responsible for what they did...? Barrington ground his teeth again. He'd never had a niggling little voice before coming to this place. Why it bothered to show up now, he had no idea. A little girl can grow up to become a woman who hides a hatchet to pass along to her man...who heads in and plants it in my shoulder... CAN grow up...not WILL grow up...how many of them were there? It surely wasn't all of them. I've even spoken with savages before and they seemed decent enough. And they seemed awfully decent enough until attacking the fort, didn't they? But do you really think she's the same as that bear man? All she's done is kill a manitou...and it was attacking her friend... She only seems to get that way when her friends are involved... He bit his lip, his eyes growing dark. He peered at her over his shoulder; she was still keeping pace, albeit a good way behind him now, her stare fixed on the ground. Even her braids seemed limp. He suppressed a sigh, now feeling irritated with himself for snapping; of course she was still a bratty little heathen but she hadn't really done anything yet. Even with everything he'd seen on the mainland, he'd always hated basing any of his actions on irrational conclusions...and to blame her for something she couldn't possibly have been involved in was rather irrational... I'm just trying to be safe...is that really so wrong...? "Look," he called out, forcing his voice to remain somewhat neutral. "I know you just did that to protect your friend, so forget what I said about that. But I'm just doing the same thing myself. You don't know what it's like where I came from. It's not the same as it is here, obviously. Not everybody is going to like you or be your friend no matter what you say. Sometimes it's best to hate someone from the start." "Well, I don't agree," he heard her say in return. Barrington rolled his eyes. "Obviously. Perhaps someday when you've had one put over on you, then you'll change your mind. In fact I think I've seen enough backstabbing here alone to convince me that it really is the same everywhere." "One lousy person doesn't mean the rest are lousy!" "Oh? Well what if nine out of ten people are lousy?" "There's still one non-lousy one!" He rolled his eyes again. "Someday you'll need to learn to become a realist, because this attitude will get you killed." He turned his head to look back at her. "And keep up, because I'm hardly going to..." His words trailed off in his throat. Winter Born advanced toward him a few more steps before stopping. "I think hating everybody's a good way to get killed, too!" she retorted, before noticing the look on his face, the way that he stared past her. Her brow furrowed. "What is it?" In response, Barrington whispered, "Don't move." Theirs were still the only tracks leading down from the snowy mound they'd just traversed, but in the distance, descending the slope beyond that, he could see three sets of tracks. And even as he watched, something large and dark lumbered into view, nostrils flaring. The black bear halted when it saw them and tested the air for their scents, then lowered its head with a low grumble. Winter Born tensed, hearing it. She slowly turned her head to peer over her shoulder, then back at Barrington, and her eyes were huge. She started shaking a little. Barrington slowly eased down his gun. "Don't move," he whispered again. "Is...is it Mishosha...?" Winter Born whispered, her voice quavering. The bear snorted some more as it began coming forward. "I don't think so," Barrington murmured in response, lifting his gun as if he were moving through water and checking to make sure it was loaded. "Stand still anyway. And don't meet its eyes." She began chewing on her lip, unable to stop herself from shaking. He felt like yelling at her to stand still, but the bear was so close now that any loud noise would surely make it charge. It snuffled at the air a few more times, its head swiveling in his direction, and he could tell that it smelled the blood on his ankles. That's right, come on over here, he thought, raising the gun slowly to point it between its eyes, but the bear turned its attention back to Winter Born now, still sniffling. A low growl came in its throat and Winter Born let out a tiny whimper. "Stop moving," Barrington hissed, slipping his finger into the trigger. "I c-can't," Winter Born said in a tiny voice. She squinched her eyes shut as the bear's breath wafted over her arm. It began sniffing at one of her pouches. Barrington cursed under his breath. "Do you have food in there--?" "I...c-can't r-remember!!" She started gnawing on her lip like crazy. "Is it g-g-gone yet--?" Damn it! If there's food in that thing it could start ripping her to shreds at any minute! He lifted the gun to his shoulder. "When I tell you to jump," he called out softly, "you jump to your left as fast and as far as you can. Got it?" She nodded, a tiny quivering motion. "G-got it." Barrington made a soft whistling noise, and the bear turned its head slightly toward him. "Here boy," he called out, keeping it in his sights. "You want something good to chew on? Then come on over this way." The bear lifted its head to try to catch his scent, but the wind was blowing the wrong way. He kept whistling and took a step to the side to try to keep its attention, though it seemed more interested in whatever Winter Born was carrying. Winter Born let out a little noise and winced. "M-my foot is cramping up!!" she whispered. Barrington had to fight not to roll his eyes. "Oh--splendid." When she started squirming and the bear turned to look at her again, he used his snowshoe to kick up a gout of snow, letting out a shrill whistle as he did so. "Hey! BEAR!" It turned to him and let out a snarl. "JUMP!" Barrington yelled, and Winter Born obeyed, leaping away from the bear just as it came charging straight at him. For the briefest split second he felt like panicking, then shook himself out of it. He dredged up the hours and months he'd spent training with the weapon and without a second thought, fired directly between its eyes. He wasn't sure if the blast would be strong enough to penetrate its thick skull, but apparently the distance was just right, for as soon as the sound of the shot made his ears ring, the bear's bellow cut off and it dropped to the ground mere paces away from him. He blinked and lowered the gun--still smoking--to stare at it in disbelief. Blood began trickling down its muzzle and a last puff of steam left its nose before it stopped moving. He let out his own breath, not quite able to believe that he'd killed it so quickly. He blinked again when he realized that the first thing he'd seen in his mind when aiming between its eyes was that savage's face, back on the Island. "I-i-is it safe--?" a voice quavered, and he shook his head abruptly, noticing Winter Born again. She still cowered in the snow nearby, her arms over her head. Her teeth chattered. "Is it gone?" she asked, her voice cracking. He couldn't figure out why she was so frightened of a mere bear, after all of the other things she'd surely faced. "Yes," he said, his voice coming out rather peeved sounding, though he wasn't sure why. She lifted an arm to peer out from underneath it, looking left and right a bit before spotting the dead bear. Then she gasped and hopped to her feet. He expected her to either scream and run away from it, or start yelling in great cheer. And so her actual response surprised and perplexed him yet again. "Oh no!" She put her hands to her face and ran toward it, dropping to her knees in the snow and putting a hand against its head. "You KILLED it!" she cried in dismay. Barrington blinked, then looked skyward, waving his arm. "Oh, God! Of COURSE I killed it! What were you expecting me to do, invite it to tea--?" "I thought you were going to scare it off!!" She sniffled and he gawked when he saw her eyes well up. She rubbed at her nose and got up, slid-slid-slid to the bear's other side, and knelt again, shaking its shoulder a bit to make sure it wasn't getting back up. Then she gave him such a glare that he took a step back. "You have to apologize!" Barrington's mouth fell open. "What--?" he squawked. She looked ready to scowl. "You have to apologize!" "For WHAT?" "For taking his life!" It felt like an arrow slammed into his breast, and he sucked in a breath. Again the surprised look of the savage on the Island flashed in his mind, the way that his eyes grew before he fell as if in slow motion, hitting the ground with a thud. Winter Born shot to her feet, fists clenched, and yelled at him, cutting through the memory. "You killed him! When you kill a bear you have to apologize!" The bear--? She's talking about the bear--? He blinked, and the memory evaporated. The little girl was glaring at him, a bit of the bear's blood on her hand; he furrowed his brow and looked down at the big dumb beast, then back at her, not quite sure what was going on anymore. She pointed at it. "If you don't apologize then Mishimakwa will come along and eat you! That's what Father always told me. And the other bears will always be angry too! That's why you apologize when you kill one." She slid-slid-slid toward him, grabbed his hand, and pulled him forward so that he nearly fell over it. "Now apologize!" Barrington yanked his hand free. "What sort of RUBBISH is this?" he yelled. "Where I come from we don't go apologizing to BEARS! If you think I'm going to start acting like you people--" He cut himself off when he could have sworn that her eyes started to glow. "SAY YOU'RE SORRY!" she shouted, and the tone of her voice was such that he hastily dropped to his knees and put his hand on the bear's head. She'd had that same tone of voice not long before making short work of that manitou, and he had no intentions of ending up like that just yet. "I--" He made a face, not knowing how they did this exactly, and feeling rather stupid. "I apologize." "For what?" He looked skyward again and sighed heavily but spoke anyway. "For killing it." She shook her head. "No, you have to say it to the BEAR! Not to me!" He ground his teeth and looked down at the bear. Its eyes had glazed over and its tongue was hanging out. "I'm sorry for killing you," he muttered. Winter Born let out a small breath. "After that we usually butcher it and take its skull and make it all pretty," she said with a frown, "but I don't have a big enough knife on me..." "I'm hardly going to butcher a bear out in the middle of nowhere and put makeup on its SKULL!" Barrington snapped, getting back to his feet. "Now can we go? By the time we get back to that bloody camp that Wendigo-boy will have already eaten it AND half the countryside!" "Oh." She bit her lip. "That's right. I forgot!" She stooped to pat the bear's head--"Goodbye and sorry, Grandfather Makwa"--before hurrying to catch up with him as he started walking again. She kept pace behind him this time. "I hope Thomas and Charmian are all right," she murmured uneasily, rubbing her stained hands together. Barrington said nothing in response. He did feel rather peeved that he was worried, too. He ground his teeth as he shouldered his gun and fixed his eyes on the snowy slopes ahead of them. I wish I had just stayed in that damned fort, he thought in irritation. At least there it was easy to tell who was who and I only had myself to look out for! Why is it that I end up with a brat to protect--? No sooner had he thought this than a loud report rang in his ears and both of them froze in place. A tree several paces to the right splintered and cracked, and Winter Born gasped and hopped back, eyes going wide. Barrington swung down his gun again and glanced wildly around himself. First a bear, now THIS--? "Where did it come from--?" he said aloud, the gunshot still ringing in the air, seemingly bouncing off of every tree in the vicinity. Winter Born edged up behind him and clung to his coattails, also looking around, though he couldn't see the source anywhere. He squinted and looked harder, trying to see perhaps the coil of smoke from a gun's barrel, when another blast rang through the air, and he felt this one zoom right past his ear, close enough to cast a small breeze over him. He gasped and jerked away, his hand flying up to his ear as if he'd just been stung by a wasp. Winter Born squeaked and pointed ahead of him. "It came from that way!!" The way we're going--? He turned to look again. A stand of trees was ahead, half cut off from sight by a slope; at first he saw nothing, but then he at last noticed a plume of smoke arising seemingly from the slope itself. That was when he realized that whoever had fired at them must be crouching on the other side. Blinking in surprise, he aimed his own gun. "They have to reload," he muttered, and glared back at Winter Born. "Get moving to those trees over there! If you don't want your head blasted off!" She nodded, face pale, and darted off toward another stand of trees to the south. Barrington focused again on the slope ahead but still saw nothing for a moment or two. He raised his gun to his shoulder, eye narrowing. "If you're planning on another sneak attack," he shouted, "then you have another thing coming!" Something on the other side of the slope moved. Barrington fixed on it in a flash and pulled the trigger--only nothing happened. He remembered now that he'd just spent his shot on the bear--how could he have forgotten such a basic thing as reloading?--when the shape behind the slope jumped up into view again, its own gun pointed between his eyes. |