| Horror and Thriller Fiction posted June 6, 2012 |
  |
a boy stalks his father's murderer
An Eye for Vengeance
by Writingfundimension
Kitch peered into the face of his sleeping wife. He longed to touch Chitsa's warm skin, but settled for luxuriating in the scent of herbs mixed with wild honey used to bring a shine to her hair.
He'd kept his plan to confront the witch, Hassun, from his wife. Deception was foreign to his nature, but in this case, it was essential. Chitsa would beg him to consider first the safety of his family, and Kitch could not take the chance he would succumb to her pleas.
Rolling to a standing position, he dressed quickly. Taking a last, long look at his wife, daughter and son, he crept from their dwelling.
Growing up, Kitch had heard tales among the Iroquois of shapeshifting witches. He'd doubted their existence until the fateful night when he'd stumbled upon one of their midnight gatherings. The warrior could barely comprehend the bestial nature of the coven's sexual exploits, all under the watchful eye of Hassun.
From that night forward, a rage bound by loathing, drove Kitch to discover a way to bring him to justice, regardless of the personal cost.
Being a large man with powerful legs, Kitch covered the distance to Owl Creek just ahead of dawn. Kneeling beside the creek, Kitch cupped his hands and brought water to his lips. Then he retrieved a bundle of white sage from inside his shirt. Once lit, he made several passes about his body and called on the spirits within the sacred smoke to guide and protect him.
As an eyebrow of sun made its appearance above the knife-edged horizon, an owl hooted from the nearby trees. Flapping wings warned of the bird's approach, and Kitch ducked his head to avoid its savage claws. The bird made several passes above the warrior before dropping down and changing into its human form.
"As you see, I received your message, Kitch."
Panic pushed assurance aside - a primitive part of Kitch's mind urged him to escape. But he'd made himself known to the witch, and had to see his decision through to its end.
Kitch addressed a point above the witch's head. "I know that you have used witchcraft to compel innocent maidens to satisfy the lust of your black-hearted god, Hassun. The People, when they hear my words and observe the proof of your vile acts, will demand your execution."
Hassun tipped back his head and laughed with such force, every creature in the forest went still. Wiping tears from his cheeks, he mumbled in imitation of an old woman, "What to do? What to do?"
Despite taking all precautions, Kitch found himself unable to look away from the witch's crazy movements. Hassun paced out a small square of earth. He spat into the center of the square and commanded, "Appear!" From within the center of the square, a mirror image of Kitch rose up.
Hassun directed glittering, red eyes in Kitch's direction and hissed, "See what happens to those who threaten me!"
The witch pointed to the ground beneath the specter's feet and motioned with his finger as if stirring a pot of soup. With each circle of the finger, Kitch's spectral image changed from a healthy warrior to a skeletal creature with bloody ribbons of flesh hanging from it.
Despite his hammering heart and shaking limbs, Kitch forced his lips into a grim smile. "Your tricks will not stop me from exposing you for the monster you are, Hassun."
"Maybe you should consider the wishes of that boy of yours who followed you here," Hassun growled. "What you've seen here, arrogant fool, will come to pass, and no one can save you."
Kitch twisted in the direction of rustling sounds just as his son stepped into the open. Alsoomse fit an arrow into his bow and aimed for the witch. Kitch sprinted in the direction of his son, yelling, "Stop, Alsoomse, you will only make matters worse." But the boy had already loosed his arrow, missing Hassun who had shapeshifted back into the owl and flown off.
Grabbing his son's shoulders, Kitch shook him so violently the boy's teeth rattled. He'd never seen his father so angry. "Why did you follow me, Alsoomse?! Now you have made a deadly enemy."
"I ... you were in danger ... was I wrong to want to help you?"
Pulling his son roughly to him, Kitch's heart lurched with the realization of the price of his pride: His entire family was in terrible danger.
Alsoomse peppered his father with questions as they walked back to the village. But Kitch refused to speak of the matter. Troubling the boy further, was the haunted look in his father's eyes. They showed no signs of their usual warmth and lively intelligence.
The following morning, Chitsa found her husband consumed by a raging fever. Within hours, pus-filled boils seeping a flesh-eating poison covered his body. Healers were called in, but shook their heads sadly when they saw the extent of his illness.
Alsoomse had taken his sister to the dwelling of a cousin, while he and his mother kept their death watch. The smell of vomit and burning meat filled the inside of their dwelling, and Kitch's screams echoed throughout the camp. Chitsa and Alsoomse remained at his side, finding little comfort in each other's arms.
Mercifully, Kitch lapsed into a coma from which he never emerged. His body was quickly burned in accordance with the wisdom of the healers who feared a spread of the strange disease that killed their Chief.
**********
The sodden vegetation of the forest floor masked Alsoomse's footsteps. His leather leggings resisted the snares of low-lying branches, but offered little resistance to the chill of a half consumed night.
Hidden in the small of the boy's back, a bundled item quivered its warning of the presence of Hassun. By skirting the forest path and using thick foliage to absorb the sounds of movement, Alsoomse hoped to avoid detection.
Sporadic shafts of moonlight sliced the darkness, providing the boy a glimpse of the witch's efforts to drag a travois along the rutted path. Alsoomse's stomach lurched when shapely limbs spilled from beneath the animal hide covering the travois. His muscles strummed as opposing currents of agitation mixed with excitement coursed through his body.
In the fortnight since Kitch's death, Alsoomse accepted that the care of his mother and sister was his responsibility. Feeding and sheltering them could be borne with the help of the other villagers. But this night, he'd come alone to face the destiny of an only son - to track and destroy his father's killer.
Kitch's hunting abilities had been legendary. From the days of his first, faltering steps, Alsoomse had studied and emulated his father's ways. Tears threatened at the memory of Kitch's rare praise, "You bring honor to our house, young one. I have no fear that our family will go hungry should the Ancestors summon me home." Alsoomse silently called upon the protection of those revered Ancestors in this night's vengeance quest.
Without warning, Hassun abandoned his load to retrace his steps. Alsoomse narrowly avoided detection by dropping to his belly at the base of a shattered oak. The youngster feared the fierce banging of his heartbeat could be detected by the witch who stopped his movements just a few feet from where Alsoomse hid.
For long minutes, the witch sniffed the air and twisted his head back and forth. Then he whirled in the direction of the young brave, and Alsoomse nearly screamed at the sight of red flames pouring from his mouth.
"I smell your fear, young fool." Hassun's voice rumbled like imminent thunder. "The Evil One protects me, but who protects you?!" The man's words turned into angry buzzing sounds that spread a cloak of despair and disorder about Alsoomse's thoughts.
"I have avoided capture for more than a hundred years before you were born, and I will outlive you by a hundred more."
Alsoomse's body trembled violently, but still the young man did not move. He sent a blessing prayer to his father's spirit for demanding he become an inhumanly patient hunter while waiting for his quarry. The discipline was the only thing keeping him alive.
The forest's repose was shattered by the crashing of a large animal through the trees moving in the direction of Alsoomse and the witch. Hassun panted loudly, mumbling a strange chant, "Inini midjin (man eater), Inini midjin ..." Alsoomse sensed the panic behind his words, yet Hassun made no move to hide or run away.
The witch's options narrowed to only one when at his side appeared a creature of gigantic proportions. He had the extremities of a man, the torso of a grizzly bear and a face that was a mixture of both.
The young Indian could hear the man-bear's powerful jaws snapping in anger. Hassun dropped to his knees and buried his face in his hands.
"It is very unwise for you to keep me waiting, Hassun. I am hungry for the tender-fleshed female you promised. Have you dared to risk my wrath by failing to complete your task? The ground beneath Alsoomse shook with the power of the creature's voice.
Hassun stumbled over his words in his terror of an evil superior to his own. "I have not ... the woman ... she is just ahead on the path. I swear I was bringing her to you. I beg you, Matwau, allow me to make my offering!"
The man-bear's fur rippled with fury. Still, he was dependent on his minion to see to a fresh, steady supply of female flesh. The creature raised an arm and stretched out his fingers. What had been skin became muscle, fur and claws. "You may have the privilege of delivering the maiden; but next time, let nothing distract you from obedience to my will."
With one swipe, Matwau ripped apart Hassun's thigh. The witch screamed once and fell backwards, writhing in agony. The creature then lifted his snout to the dark heavens, and roared from the depths of his belly. Shooting straight up like an arrow destined for an eagle's heart, he disappeared.
Had the opportunity presented itself at that moment, Alsoomse would surely have returned to the safety of his mother's lodge. But, he could not make any movement, for the wounded witch was still a very dangerous being.
Despite his dread, Alsoomse could not turn away from the figure lying on the ground. He nearly yelped in astonishment when a nest of gigantic, black beetles covered Hassun's bleeding thigh. The young Indian could hear the snapping of the pincers of the industrious insects as they burrowed in and out of the torn edges of the witch's grievous wound.
Hassun moaned from the pain, but little by little, the insects worked a dark magic and restored his flesh to wholeness. Then they formed themselves into a column, skittered across Hassun's belly and disappeared into the dark woods. The witch raised himself unto his hands and knees, then to his full height. All thoughts of discovering who was following him were forgotten in his haste to return to the abandoned travois.
When Alsoomse felt it was safe to leave his hiding place, he stepped lightly unto the path and quickly moved to a flat, bowl-shaped field ahead through the trees.
The people of his tribe avoided this pocket of land, especially at night. At its northern end was a slot in the rocks where the bodies of executed witches were dumped. The Iroquois rarely confronted a suspected witch directly, but if enough damning evidence was produced, no matter the status of the person, they were hung or stoned.
The young warrior tightened his fist around his father's finger bone, waiting for guidance. Kitch's voice blew into his mind like a fresh lake wind, directing his movements.
"Hurry, Alsoomse! Follow the bobbing lights. Where they hover, you will find Hassun."
Straining to part the night's black curtain, the young brave glimpsed orbs of light, easily mistaken for fireflies. When he felt the bone in his hand begin to vibrate, he knew his seeing was true.
The plan was simple: Slay Hassun, and in the resulting chaos, escape with the captured woman. Alsoomse tracked the lights, and when they hovered over one particular spot, he found a small gully where he could watch without discovery.
A small, slow fire burned from within a stone-fortified pit. Lesser female and male witches wearing animal and bird masks mixed with those who were true shapeshifters. Human and inhuman voices chanted "Matwa, Matwa ...' while gyrating with lewd abandon. Hassun kept his offering carefully hidden to keep her from being ripped to pieces in the building sexual frenzy.
The bone in Alsoomse's hand vibrated violently and a voice in his head asserted, "Patience, Alsoomse. Watch and wait!"
The roars of a bear filled the arena. All present faced the fire to welcome their dark lord - the man-bear Hassun had crossed paths with earlier. To Alsoomse's astonishment, the band of worshippers moved closer to the creature, chanting in one voice, "Matwau comes!"
The being roared again, turned and ripped off the head of a man who'd gotten too close. Hot, black liquid spattered the faces of his companions and they fell back in fright.
"Bring me the female's heart, Hassun," the dark lord demanded.
Hassun walked to travois. With a flourish, he pulled back the fur to reveal the naked figure of a comely young woman. Alsoomse could not make out a face, but something about her shape was familiar.
Pulling a curved dagger from his belt, the witch raised it high above his head.
I can't let this happen.
"Wait, Alsoomse."
Quick as a lightening flash, the sky filled with thousands of black birds. They swooped on the revelers, ripping away exposed lips, noses and ears. Screams of pleasure turned to hysteria. A few of the younger witches escaped, but most lay in bloody heaps. Two of the birds descended on Hassun. He stabbed frantically with his knife, but he could not prevent his eyes from being gouged out by their sharp beaks.
Having witnessed Hassun's regenerative powers, Alsoomse knew he had to move fast in order to finish off the witch.
When he reached Hassun, his knife was out and ready. With both hands on the hilt, he plunged it into the old man's heart. Still the witch remained standing, striking blindly at his attacker.
"You must cut off his head, Alsoomse."
The knife made a sucking sound as he pulled it from Hassun's chest. Shoving the old man to the ground, Alsoomse climbed on his chest to keep him from rising. He swiped his blade through the grass to clean off the clinging flesh. Exposing Hassun's throat, he slit it from ear to ear.
The witch bucked like a wild mustang for several minutes then lay still. Alsoomse turned the witch over, took out his hatchet and severed Hassun's head.
Matwau had disappeared at the first sign of trouble, abandoning his slaughtered followers.
"See to the child, Alsoomse."
Wiping the blood and sweat from his face, the young warrior could see signs of movement atop the travois. His heart nearly burst from his chest as he looked into the frightened face of his sister, Chepi. Touching his cheek with her hand, the young girl graced him with a wan smile. "You saved me just as father told me you would."
Wrapping his sister in an animal skin for warmth, Alsoomse gathered Chepi into his arms. Clinging to one another, brother and sister began the long walk home.
Horror Story Writing Contest contest entry
He'd kept his plan to confront the witch, Hassun, from his wife. Deception was foreign to his nature, but in this case, it was essential. Chitsa would beg him to consider first the safety of his family, and Kitch could not take the chance he would succumb to her pleas.
Rolling to a standing position, he dressed quickly. Taking a last, long look at his wife, daughter and son, he crept from their dwelling.
Growing up, Kitch had heard tales among the Iroquois of shapeshifting witches. He'd doubted their existence until the fateful night when he'd stumbled upon one of their midnight gatherings. The warrior could barely comprehend the bestial nature of the coven's sexual exploits, all under the watchful eye of Hassun.
From that night forward, a rage bound by loathing, drove Kitch to discover a way to bring him to justice, regardless of the personal cost.
Being a large man with powerful legs, Kitch covered the distance to Owl Creek just ahead of dawn. Kneeling beside the creek, Kitch cupped his hands and brought water to his lips. Then he retrieved a bundle of white sage from inside his shirt. Once lit, he made several passes about his body and called on the spirits within the sacred smoke to guide and protect him.
As an eyebrow of sun made its appearance above the knife-edged horizon, an owl hooted from the nearby trees. Flapping wings warned of the bird's approach, and Kitch ducked his head to avoid its savage claws. The bird made several passes above the warrior before dropping down and changing into its human form.
"As you see, I received your message, Kitch."
Panic pushed assurance aside - a primitive part of Kitch's mind urged him to escape. But he'd made himself known to the witch, and had to see his decision through to its end.
Kitch addressed a point above the witch's head. "I know that you have used witchcraft to compel innocent maidens to satisfy the lust of your black-hearted god, Hassun. The People, when they hear my words and observe the proof of your vile acts, will demand your execution."
Hassun tipped back his head and laughed with such force, every creature in the forest went still. Wiping tears from his cheeks, he mumbled in imitation of an old woman, "What to do? What to do?"
Despite taking all precautions, Kitch found himself unable to look away from the witch's crazy movements. Hassun paced out a small square of earth. He spat into the center of the square and commanded, "Appear!" From within the center of the square, a mirror image of Kitch rose up.
Hassun directed glittering, red eyes in Kitch's direction and hissed, "See what happens to those who threaten me!"
The witch pointed to the ground beneath the specter's feet and motioned with his finger as if stirring a pot of soup. With each circle of the finger, Kitch's spectral image changed from a healthy warrior to a skeletal creature with bloody ribbons of flesh hanging from it.
Despite his hammering heart and shaking limbs, Kitch forced his lips into a grim smile. "Your tricks will not stop me from exposing you for the monster you are, Hassun."
"Maybe you should consider the wishes of that boy of yours who followed you here," Hassun growled. "What you've seen here, arrogant fool, will come to pass, and no one can save you."
Kitch twisted in the direction of rustling sounds just as his son stepped into the open. Alsoomse fit an arrow into his bow and aimed for the witch. Kitch sprinted in the direction of his son, yelling, "Stop, Alsoomse, you will only make matters worse." But the boy had already loosed his arrow, missing Hassun who had shapeshifted back into the owl and flown off.
Grabbing his son's shoulders, Kitch shook him so violently the boy's teeth rattled. He'd never seen his father so angry. "Why did you follow me, Alsoomse?! Now you have made a deadly enemy."
"I ... you were in danger ... was I wrong to want to help you?"
Pulling his son roughly to him, Kitch's heart lurched with the realization of the price of his pride: His entire family was in terrible danger.
Alsoomse peppered his father with questions as they walked back to the village. But Kitch refused to speak of the matter. Troubling the boy further, was the haunted look in his father's eyes. They showed no signs of their usual warmth and lively intelligence.
The following morning, Chitsa found her husband consumed by a raging fever. Within hours, pus-filled boils seeping a flesh-eating poison covered his body. Healers were called in, but shook their heads sadly when they saw the extent of his illness.
Alsoomse had taken his sister to the dwelling of a cousin, while he and his mother kept their death watch. The smell of vomit and burning meat filled the inside of their dwelling, and Kitch's screams echoed throughout the camp. Chitsa and Alsoomse remained at his side, finding little comfort in each other's arms.
Mercifully, Kitch lapsed into a coma from which he never emerged. His body was quickly burned in accordance with the wisdom of the healers who feared a spread of the strange disease that killed their Chief.
**********
The sodden vegetation of the forest floor masked Alsoomse's footsteps. His leather leggings resisted the snares of low-lying branches, but offered little resistance to the chill of a half consumed night.
Hidden in the small of the boy's back, a bundled item quivered its warning of the presence of Hassun. By skirting the forest path and using thick foliage to absorb the sounds of movement, Alsoomse hoped to avoid detection.
Sporadic shafts of moonlight sliced the darkness, providing the boy a glimpse of the witch's efforts to drag a travois along the rutted path. Alsoomse's stomach lurched when shapely limbs spilled from beneath the animal hide covering the travois. His muscles strummed as opposing currents of agitation mixed with excitement coursed through his body.
In the fortnight since Kitch's death, Alsoomse accepted that the care of his mother and sister was his responsibility. Feeding and sheltering them could be borne with the help of the other villagers. But this night, he'd come alone to face the destiny of an only son - to track and destroy his father's killer.
Kitch's hunting abilities had been legendary. From the days of his first, faltering steps, Alsoomse had studied and emulated his father's ways. Tears threatened at the memory of Kitch's rare praise, "You bring honor to our house, young one. I have no fear that our family will go hungry should the Ancestors summon me home." Alsoomse silently called upon the protection of those revered Ancestors in this night's vengeance quest.
Without warning, Hassun abandoned his load to retrace his steps. Alsoomse narrowly avoided detection by dropping to his belly at the base of a shattered oak. The youngster feared the fierce banging of his heartbeat could be detected by the witch who stopped his movements just a few feet from where Alsoomse hid.
For long minutes, the witch sniffed the air and twisted his head back and forth. Then he whirled in the direction of the young brave, and Alsoomse nearly screamed at the sight of red flames pouring from his mouth.
"I smell your fear, young fool." Hassun's voice rumbled like imminent thunder. "The Evil One protects me, but who protects you?!" The man's words turned into angry buzzing sounds that spread a cloak of despair and disorder about Alsoomse's thoughts.
"I have avoided capture for more than a hundred years before you were born, and I will outlive you by a hundred more."
Alsoomse's body trembled violently, but still the young man did not move. He sent a blessing prayer to his father's spirit for demanding he become an inhumanly patient hunter while waiting for his quarry. The discipline was the only thing keeping him alive.
The forest's repose was shattered by the crashing of a large animal through the trees moving in the direction of Alsoomse and the witch. Hassun panted loudly, mumbling a strange chant, "Inini midjin (man eater), Inini midjin ..." Alsoomse sensed the panic behind his words, yet Hassun made no move to hide or run away.
The witch's options narrowed to only one when at his side appeared a creature of gigantic proportions. He had the extremities of a man, the torso of a grizzly bear and a face that was a mixture of both.
The young Indian could hear the man-bear's powerful jaws snapping in anger. Hassun dropped to his knees and buried his face in his hands.
"It is very unwise for you to keep me waiting, Hassun. I am hungry for the tender-fleshed female you promised. Have you dared to risk my wrath by failing to complete your task? The ground beneath Alsoomse shook with the power of the creature's voice.
Hassun stumbled over his words in his terror of an evil superior to his own. "I have not ... the woman ... she is just ahead on the path. I swear I was bringing her to you. I beg you, Matwau, allow me to make my offering!"
The man-bear's fur rippled with fury. Still, he was dependent on his minion to see to a fresh, steady supply of female flesh. The creature raised an arm and stretched out his fingers. What had been skin became muscle, fur and claws. "You may have the privilege of delivering the maiden; but next time, let nothing distract you from obedience to my will."
With one swipe, Matwau ripped apart Hassun's thigh. The witch screamed once and fell backwards, writhing in agony. The creature then lifted his snout to the dark heavens, and roared from the depths of his belly. Shooting straight up like an arrow destined for an eagle's heart, he disappeared.
Had the opportunity presented itself at that moment, Alsoomse would surely have returned to the safety of his mother's lodge. But, he could not make any movement, for the wounded witch was still a very dangerous being.
Despite his dread, Alsoomse could not turn away from the figure lying on the ground. He nearly yelped in astonishment when a nest of gigantic, black beetles covered Hassun's bleeding thigh. The young Indian could hear the snapping of the pincers of the industrious insects as they burrowed in and out of the torn edges of the witch's grievous wound.
Hassun moaned from the pain, but little by little, the insects worked a dark magic and restored his flesh to wholeness. Then they formed themselves into a column, skittered across Hassun's belly and disappeared into the dark woods. The witch raised himself unto his hands and knees, then to his full height. All thoughts of discovering who was following him were forgotten in his haste to return to the abandoned travois.
When Alsoomse felt it was safe to leave his hiding place, he stepped lightly unto the path and quickly moved to a flat, bowl-shaped field ahead through the trees.
The people of his tribe avoided this pocket of land, especially at night. At its northern end was a slot in the rocks where the bodies of executed witches were dumped. The Iroquois rarely confronted a suspected witch directly, but if enough damning evidence was produced, no matter the status of the person, they were hung or stoned.
The young warrior tightened his fist around his father's finger bone, waiting for guidance. Kitch's voice blew into his mind like a fresh lake wind, directing his movements.
"Hurry, Alsoomse! Follow the bobbing lights. Where they hover, you will find Hassun."
Straining to part the night's black curtain, the young brave glimpsed orbs of light, easily mistaken for fireflies. When he felt the bone in his hand begin to vibrate, he knew his seeing was true.
The plan was simple: Slay Hassun, and in the resulting chaos, escape with the captured woman. Alsoomse tracked the lights, and when they hovered over one particular spot, he found a small gully where he could watch without discovery.
A small, slow fire burned from within a stone-fortified pit. Lesser female and male witches wearing animal and bird masks mixed with those who were true shapeshifters. Human and inhuman voices chanted "Matwa, Matwa ...' while gyrating with lewd abandon. Hassun kept his offering carefully hidden to keep her from being ripped to pieces in the building sexual frenzy.
The bone in Alsoomse's hand vibrated violently and a voice in his head asserted, "Patience, Alsoomse. Watch and wait!"
The roars of a bear filled the arena. All present faced the fire to welcome their dark lord - the man-bear Hassun had crossed paths with earlier. To Alsoomse's astonishment, the band of worshippers moved closer to the creature, chanting in one voice, "Matwau comes!"
The being roared again, turned and ripped off the head of a man who'd gotten too close. Hot, black liquid spattered the faces of his companions and they fell back in fright.
"Bring me the female's heart, Hassun," the dark lord demanded.
Hassun walked to travois. With a flourish, he pulled back the fur to reveal the naked figure of a comely young woman. Alsoomse could not make out a face, but something about her shape was familiar.
Pulling a curved dagger from his belt, the witch raised it high above his head.
I can't let this happen.
"Wait, Alsoomse."
Quick as a lightening flash, the sky filled with thousands of black birds. They swooped on the revelers, ripping away exposed lips, noses and ears. Screams of pleasure turned to hysteria. A few of the younger witches escaped, but most lay in bloody heaps. Two of the birds descended on Hassun. He stabbed frantically with his knife, but he could not prevent his eyes from being gouged out by their sharp beaks.
Having witnessed Hassun's regenerative powers, Alsoomse knew he had to move fast in order to finish off the witch.
When he reached Hassun, his knife was out and ready. With both hands on the hilt, he plunged it into the old man's heart. Still the witch remained standing, striking blindly at his attacker.
"You must cut off his head, Alsoomse."
The knife made a sucking sound as he pulled it from Hassun's chest. Shoving the old man to the ground, Alsoomse climbed on his chest to keep him from rising. He swiped his blade through the grass to clean off the clinging flesh. Exposing Hassun's throat, he slit it from ear to ear.
The witch bucked like a wild mustang for several minutes then lay still. Alsoomse turned the witch over, took out his hatchet and severed Hassun's head.
Matwau had disappeared at the first sign of trouble, abandoning his slaughtered followers.
"See to the child, Alsoomse."
Wiping the blood and sweat from his face, the young warrior could see signs of movement atop the travois. His heart nearly burst from his chest as he looked into the frightened face of his sister, Chepi. Touching his cheek with her hand, the young girl graced him with a wan smile. "You saved me just as father told me you would."
Wrapping his sister in an animal skin for warmth, Alsoomse gathered Chepi into his arms. Clinging to one another, brother and sister began the long walk home.
 Recognized |
|
The owl is a bad omen to most tribes of the Native Americans. Owls represent death or illness. To hearthe birds hooting near a house or to find an owl feather near the house means that there will be illness or death in the home. The Apache believe that deaming of an owl is a sign of approaching death.
Terms:
Chief: The head of a tribe of Native American Indians
Coven: Loosely organized group of witches
Iroquois: Native American Indian tribe.
Shapeshifting: The ability to become another being, usually a bird of mammal, and still think like a human being.
Travois: A sled-like apparatus used for carrying objects
from one place to another.
Witch: Generic term for practitioner of dark arts
I have drawn some of the depictions of the nature and actions of Native American witches from the text:
Iroquois Supernatural by Michael Bastine and Mason Winfield. In the words of the authors, "Although all Iroquois supernatural belief may seem 'superstitious' or 'magical' to some observers, Iroquois society itself makes its own distinctions between the sacred and the spooky. Still, one often overlaps the other."
Thanks for you guidance and support, Stacia Ann.
© Copyright 2024. Writingfundimension All rights reserved. Registered copyright with FanStory.
Writingfundimension has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
