A Man With One Winchester, and Two Bullets

Chapter 9

The huge burly man could only be the captain. He fled his huge tent in irritation, and screamed in pain as fire caught his jacket and burned his back. He threw it off in pain, and then aiming at one of the pigs, he shot it, making it fall to its death. Then, the other wild boar came straight towards him. Now it was in the fire light, and could be easily seen and shot, so he motioned another man to shoot it.

While the killing of pigs went on, the flame from the middle tent hit other tents, and now all were burning down. A few men tried to put it out, but failed.

The captain was in fury, and was howling at the men. Cursing at them with a bitter tone.

I watched happily as they formed a search party and headed out to find me. Though, I cut all the branches that helped me climb the tree, so no one would suspect me in it.

There was a small hollow in the tree, and I crawled into. I covered the entrance with boughs and leaves, making it nice and dark. I made a small fire with the spindle I had, and the smoke was trapped in the small hollow. I hanged my pack on a small piece of wood emerged from the side, and took out some dried deer meet. I ate happily, but, this was the last of my deer meet. And, my so called raid brought me no supplies, just the destroying of the camp.

I nestled cozy in the hollow with my new deer skin blanket. The nights were getting colder, the trees were turning orange, and I wasn't any closer to escape.

_____________________________________

I awoke. It was still and quite. I peered out of the branches and leaves and saw the camp abandoned. Some dead men who were killed by the boar rested on the clearing, and the stench of burned fleshed lingered in the area.

I broke the barrier at the entrance of my hollow, staying as quite as I could. I looked at the huge clearing and waited. It could all be a simple trap, and I must stay up here until I saw movement.

I waited, nothing happened. Hours past when suddenly a brush in bushes at the other side of clearing appeared. Two men emerged and walked into the clearing. I heard their faint conversation.

"That stupid guy ran away! What a coward!" One man spoke.

"Yeah! And we were sent to kill him? What a disgrace! We are to good for a coward!"

I put my pack on and swooped down the tree, bow in hand. The men still talked, not noticing me. I walked out into the clearing, pointing my bow at them. "Ah, yes, a coward you may call me, but a smart one, yes, a smart one indeed.", then pausing for a moment, I added, "A quick coward, too. I suggest you place your ugly face to the ground."

As they did so, one screamed, "Charlie!", a man flew from the bushes behind me, took my pack from my back, and sprinted at full speed away from me.

I aimed my arrow at him, but a bullet flew into my leg, and I fell. One of the men picked up a stick and began beating me.

"You bow to us!" He shoved my face into the ground and said, "Now your face is in the ground!"

I grabbed the stick, and with my right hand punched him in the face so hard he was knocked out. The other man stood wide eyed at my impossible feat.

He dashed away so fast, there was no chance of me shooting him with my bow.

They had slammed my face, and it was now caked in blood. My left leg was in pain from the shot, but, it only got me in my flesh, no where near the bone.

I limped around the camp, looking for bandages and found some. I treated my wounds, and with the canteen on my waist, washed my face. Though my bag was stolen, my saxe still rest on my waist, and my gun in the holster. But, my blanket and jerky were stolen, so were the extra pair of clothing.

I hid amongst the dead bodies and burned tents, and rested.

________________________________

I awoke too a slight trip, then a stumble into the bodies. It was the man who ran away after I had slammed that other guy. Speaking of him, where was he? I had only knocked him out, not killed him. He may have ran off.

The man got back up and began walking around again.

I looked around. The man I had knocked out was still on the ground, and if I planned this right, I could kill the man wandering around the camp.

I smoothly moved my hand to my waist, then got up. I walked behind the man, and placed the gun on his head. "My leg was shot. You pulled the trigger, did you not?"

He gave a shriek of fear, and in a cracked scared voice said, "Yes . . . It was me...".

I pulled the trigger, and he fell.

I wished I did not have to kill, but I had to, in order to survive.