TALES FROM JAXON

CHAPTER IV: THE YOUTH GONE WILD

Max's throat tightened, his pulse thundering loudly in his ears. Facing a snarling wolf pack, Jake mulled over a desperate fight, knife in hand. "No," Max interjected sharply. "We retreat-fighting risks everything." Fear glinted in Jake's eyes, but he nodded, acknowledging the gravity of injury or death. Together, they stepped back, choosing caution over combat.

Max and Jake didn't want to involve their parents or the authorities. But as the wolves closed in, their ferocious sniffing and howls pierced the night. The moon crested, its light revealing the encroaching pack. Despite his fear, Max urged Jake forward. They scrambled desperately, gaining only fifty yards before the wolves bore down on them.

A harsh north wind swept the grassland, amplifying their sense of vulnerability. The distant cabin seemed their only refuge against the backdrop of an ink-black sky. Suddenly, the cacophony of horses' hooves and urgent voices cut through the howling wind.

Arrows whistled through the dark, too far to pose a threat yet close enough to send shivers down their spines. "It's the wolves!" shouted an unintelligible voice from afar.

Chief Raja, witnessing the scene unfold, exclaimed in disbelief, "My God, they're still alive?"

In the moonlit night, Max and Jake froze as a pack of wolves approached. Their faces, pale with terror, reflected their fear. Suddenly, horsemen materialized, their weapons glinting in the darkness.

"Indians!" Max whispered.

The tribe charged, intercepting the predators with a roar. As a wolf lunged at them, baring its fangs, a gunshot echoed and the beast collapsed, bloodied.

"Back off! These boys are under our protection!" an Indian commanded. Arrows whizzed through the air as both wolves and Indians engaged in a nocturnal standoff.

The wolves retreated while the Indians ceased fire. The chief, puzzled by the night's events, dismissed any further conflict with a gruff command.

His wife quickly ushered Max and Jake to safety on horseback as they raced toward the sanctuary of the reservation.

The northern horizon glowed with a brilliant light that seemed to rush towards them in rapid bursts. "To the village," Chief Raja declared, "there's still time to find safety there." They wove through dense woods and emerged by the river's edge, choosing to follow its western flow. Within ten minutes, they had arrived at their native land.

Chief Raja then suggested they scour the riverbanks for a boat to navigate downstream to the tribe. Accompanying him were Jake and Max, who observed carefully. Suddenly, Chief Raja uttered commands in an unfamiliar tongue to one of his men. The decree was clear - tie the children's wrists together and blindfold them. They were acutely aware of the serious nature of their situation.

The boys had thought they'd encountered danger. Now, with alligators lurking in the murky Mississippi, their fears were confirmed. Tense whispers pierced the air. "What was that?" one of the men questioned sharply. All eyes were wide open; fatigue forgotten, panic had set in.

Alligators are clever hunters; they submerge to rebalance their weight before striking. The crew knew this predator wasn't far off. Anxiety gripped them tighter than the covers on food at the docking stations. Their boat progressed slowly, ensuring they were ready to act when necessary.

Two grim choices lay before them: sink or confront the beast head-on. They chose action over surrender, and as they neared the creature, the Chief readied his pistol. Bang! Bang! Two shots rang out, aimed into its gaping jaws. A howl of pain pierced the air but failed to subdue it-its hide was too tough.

Determined, with a bloodied cheek and furrowed brow, the Chief took aim once more and with a thunderous crash, the monster sunk below.

Suddenly, a shout rose above: "There! The village!" Everyone's gaze snapped forward-they had arrived at their native land. Behind them, the vanquished gator disappeared into the depths as they finally reached safety at their camp.