Brindle's Odyssey

Stump Nose had never moved slower, or quieter, in his entire life. He savored the moment, positioning himself for a throw a child could have made. He watched her working with her backside toward him and he felt the lust return. He began to wonder if he should give her a chance to change her mind about him. Once she was dead she would never have that chance. He thought that it was strange that he should have such a sudden change of heart. He decided that lust was a good thing and that it should be acted upon.

  Man Killer was hot and she could feel the sweat running down her back. She reached up with her empty hand and unhooked the back of her dress. The breeze on her bare back felt wonderful and she continued picking berries.

  Stump Nose felt his heart jump and he took many deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. This was a sign, he was sure of it. She must know that he was standing behind her; why else would she unfasten her dress? Maybe she thought he was her husband? Wouldn’t she be surprised? Stump Nose quietly set down his lance and slipped the long blade from his belt. He then began to creep forward, just a few inches at a time.

  Two sandhill cranes then fell from the sky and landed in between him and his prey. Stump Nose blinked hard and wondered what these birds were doing so deep inside the woods. Hadn’t he heard something about these cranes? He wished he had been a better listener. He shook his head and resumed his approach. He could easily kill two stupid birds if they got in his way.

  Another of the birds landed, followed by two more. They seemed to be falling from the sky. Stump Nose froze in his tracks, finally remembering what his mother had told him as a young boy about the spirits of the Mide. They came back to the earth as cranes. When the next of the birds dropped down not five feet from him, Stump Nose turned and began to run. He ran as fast as his two legs would carry him, his moccasins kicking up pine needles behind him.

  He ran until he thought his lungs would burst; then Stump Nose ran on some more, turning his head every minute, the nightmarish birds were running right behind him, following him in a long line. How many there were now, Stump Nose didn’t want to know. Each look back caused a burst in his speed. He entered a clearing and stole another glance back. Stump Nose found himself face to beak with one of the sandhill cranes. Stump Nose screeched when his foot crashed through a small burrow and he realized that he was falling.

  He found himself flat on his face, feeling strange, as if a long period of time had passed. Stump Nose didn’t move a muscle. He listened as he checked his limbs for pain. There seemed to be nothing broken, which felt like a miracle. Was that a good sign? Stump Nose couldn’t be sure, but he was no longer winded and he felt strong. If the cranes attacked him, he knew he could kill them as fast as they attacked. Had he actually been afraid of some stupid birds? What if someone had seen him running away from those birds? That would be embarrassing. What if they were watching now?

  Stump Nose suddenly twisted as he leapt to his feet. He came up crouched, prepared to pounce on anything that moved. What he saw before him made him wish that he had never moved. The meadow was teaming with hundreds of the sandhill cranes. They were all staring at him. One stood only a few feet away.

  “Did you really believe that you could run from justice?” asked the freakish bird, studying him from one of its dead-black eyes.

  Foolish to the end, Stump Nose lunged at the crane. The crane dodged the attack. Suddenly all of his strength left his body and Stump Nose rolled onto his back. He wanted to scream, but he found that his vocal chords didn’t seem to be working. He wanted to get to his feet, but his muscles would not respond. Finally, he wanted to close his eyes, but they too had failed him. The brown crane stuck its beak close to face, mere inches away.

  “How does it feel?” asked the crane, turning its head as it spoke. “Do you not think that an animal knows terror? What about a bug, have you ever wondered what they were thinking while you tortured them? You would have done well to think of such things, because you are about to find out.” The crane then ran the sharp tip of its large beak down the side of Stump Nose’s cheek.

  The pain was intense, but Stump Nose couldn’t even purse his lips to cry out. Again, Stump Nose willed his muscles to move. Nothing worked--- nothing at all. He had never imagined the terror of feeling so vulnerable. His eyes darted back and forth as more of the cranes stalked toward him. The air felt thick and the sun seemed especially bright. A slight breeze ruffled the brown feathers of the tall birds. A larger crane appeared next to the one that had spoken and this one pecked at his tunic. He felt a shot of pain as the bird dug its beak into his stomach. When that crane lifted its beak, a chunk of his buckskin tunic came away with it. Blood dripped from the brown skin. Stump Nose found himself helpless, with no choice but to watch his own demise. Another bird juked its way toward the other two. He studied Stump Nose for nearly a minute, walking around him on its long legs. The bird leaned close and then it calmly opened his beak and clamped on his nose. The pain exploded in his face and his eyes streamed tears as the bird shook its head with incredible strength, never letting go of his screaming nose.

  The next bird repeated the performance, choosing a different spot to taste his blood, as did the next. Stump Nose would live until the next sun was setting in the western sky.

  Huck