The Savage Moon

Chapter Five: Twists and Turns

Jack tied his horse to the branch of a tree, unloaded his rifle and checked his revolver. The woods were filled with bird chatter, squirrels barking, and the wind rustling softly through the leaves.

On any other day, he'd be pleased to simply stand there with his eyes closed and let the peace roll over him. Today, the blood was coursing through his veins and he felt close to murder. Not far ahead, the Indian had holed up under a rocky outcrop that was a favorite spot amongst the trappers, or so he'd been told.

He'd met an awfully friendly young woman at the shack that served as a tavern down the mountain. Sarah told him quite a lot about the local area for a few coins, and she'd proven more than worth the small cost.

He crept slowly toward the shadowed area beyond the trees. The sound of silence caught him in the gut. He'd heard their voices and watched their movements from a distance for more than an hour. As he edged closer, they seemed to have disappeared.

Just as he knew it was too late, he turned and blocked the knife-wielding arm coming at his back. Ducking and swinging, the two men traded blows, each bent on overcoming the other.

The Indian was smaller than him, wirey but quick. The knife slashed past his face. He moved quickly to the side and threw an underhand punch deep into his attacker's gut.

The Indian grunted and the wind rushed out of him, but he seemed fairly unfazed and Jack had to admit he had underestimated his foe.

The two battled fiercely beneath the tall pines that grew just ahead of the face of the bluff. The pungent scent of pine surged through his nostrils with each breathe. A sharp searing pain tore through his side as he was too slow to evade the slice that was aimed at him. Hopefully, his ribs deflected the majority of the damage, he thought to himself.

The Indian rushed in at him once more knife arcing down at him from above. Jack deftly blocked his attackers knife arm, brought his own hand down across his attackers wrist, causing the knife to fly into the brush.

Jack wasted no time. Without the knife, the threat seemed much less and he began to slowly pick apart his opponent. All his years of hard labor and rough work had molded his hands into stone and the evidence of their power quickly made itself shown on the indian's face.

His left jab opened up a nasty cut underneath the indian's eye. A right hook knocked him back several paces, though he got merely a grunt in response. Advancing on his opponent, Jack place several more blows squarely into the rapidly swelling and bruising face. Finally, the Indian stood swaying, waiting, watching through grotesquely swollen eyes.

"You had to have known this would happen. There are consequences for actions in this life. Her virtue will be avenged, as you can see."

The Indian spit blood onto the ground, then spoke only one word. "Mine."

The blood surged fiercely through his veins, causing his vision to turn as red as the blood on the ground. Then the world went black as his vengeance was taken.

"Jack..."
"Jack?!.."
"Jack! Can you hear me?!"
He heard her voice. It sounded so far away...

His mind began to clear and he began to come back to himself. The blackness began to fade and there she was before him.

"Jack!" She said, crouching down before him. "Can you hear me?"
"Yes," He croaked. "What the hell happened?"

She didn't reply right away. A look of astonishment covered her features and he began to notice the bruises she bore. Her sharp cheekbones, mottled with purple and blue, a deep crescent of purple beneath a slightly swollen left eye.