The Unknown Tales: A Collection of Short Stories, One Shots, and More

No Mercy

I HAVE SPENT THREE YEARS LOOKING FOR THIS! THREE YEARS!!!! Forgive the poor writing. I wrote this for a school project my Freshman year.

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“Little Hill! Little Hill! Come quickly!”

“I’m busy!” Little Hill called back to his brother. He was helping his mother with basket weaving. It was a job for the women but White Bird had no girls to help her, just Little Hill and his older brother, Big Hill. Big Hill raced into camp knocking aside women and warriors alike in his excitement.

“Come! Father has killed a buffalo,” he said tugging Little Hill’s arm causing him to spill the grass he was using for weaving everywhere.

“Ayúštaŋ yo! You’re making a mess!” Little Hill exclaimed. His brother paid no mind and continued tugging Little Hill away from his work.

“Hurry!”

“I come! I come!” Little Hill looked to his mother for approval. She laughed and shooed them away. Little Hill dashed away following his brother. The elders laughed to see the brothers running through camp like a herd of horses, causing mayhem amongst the women. They leaped over fires and dodged around tipis. A horse blocked their way and Big Hill dove underneath while Little Hill launched himself over the back of the horse.

Moments later they collided with Chief Big Foot. Before they could recover he grabbed their shoulders holding them firmly. He looked them each in the eyes long and hard.

“And why might you two be dashing through camp disturbing everyone?” he asked.

“Iron Horse has killed a buffalo, Chief,” Big Hill said. His chest puffed out as if he had killed it himself. Little Hill tried to hide behind his brother. Big Foot’s eyes glinted with amusement. He smiled at the brothers.

“I suppose that is reason enough. Run along but be careful,” he said. Little Hill and Big Hill bowed briefly still overcome with excitement and dashed off no slower than before.

“They will make fine warriors,” Red Leaf said walking up behind Big Foot after the encounter. Big Foot nodded distractedly.

“Yes. I believe they will. Their time for valor may come soon and they will need each other,” he said. Red Leaf sensed something was wrong.

“Chief, you seemed troubled. Is something wrong? Are they not ready?”

“No, Red Leaf. Your brother’s sons are more than ready. There is trouble in the north. Chief Sitting Bull has been killed,” Big Foot said. Red Leaf stiffened.

“Why?” he asked.

“I do not know for sure. But I do know he was accused of being a supporter of the Ghost Dance. Whoever killed him will be coming for me next and I fear they will not spare my tribe.” Big Foot looked to the circle surrounding a man dressed in a strange shirt with a bird sewn on to the front. He was painted in bright colors. He danced in a slow circle showing the people how to call down their ancestors to vanquish the whites.

“What will we do?”

“Find Iron Horse and gather the elders. I intend to avoid these white-skins and their guns.”

“Yes, Chief.”

Little Hill stood atop a small rise in the earth with his brother. Below them several Lakota Indians were cutting apart the carcass of a large buffalo. Big Hill saw their father, Iron Horse, and let out a war cry and raced down to join him. Little Hill followed more slowly picking his way down the slope.

“Hurry!” Big Hill called. He held a large parcel in his hands. Little Hill came quickly. As he came closer he realized the buffalo was not nearly as large as he had thought. It was old with the horns worn down to stubs and its teeth were mostly gone.