Autumn found the winter hunting grounds in tones of gold and bronze the day Sully and Wolf inspected it. Knowing it was a week before the rest of the tribe were to arrive, Sully was glad for the quiet. Although it had been a long summer away, Sully felt he needed another day or two to himself before he would be ready to see Cloud Dancing again. Things had been hard for him as he had been trying to figure out his life while the thought of his new tenant kept coming back to him. What he had thought would be a good summer of contemplation hadn't been so easy.
Wolf was hot on the trail of his dinner as they continued through the forest that clear afternoon. Trying to keep his bearings, he knew they were a short walk away from the winter grounds. He felt it would be quick and easy to stay there along a deer trail before ending up at the grounds tomorrow. Then he could start work on new poles for a winter teepee. Perhaps he'd see some deer as the afternoon sunlight waned. It would be a nice way to tide himself over until the Cheyenne joined him.
But as evening crept through the tree branches, not a breath of activity moved through the undergrowth. There were no squirrels or even birds overhead. Finally resting beneath a huge pine, Sully looked to build an evening fire while he waited for Wolf to return. As he laid his pack and bow down, he stretched his arms above his head and looked at the sky. It was a cold winter sky, getting dark against the bronze leaves that still clung to the branches above.
Thanking the Great Spirit for the clear weather, Sully began gathering sticks for his fire. As he made his way through the fallen leaves, it occurred to him that where he was at was near where he'd been about a year ago when he and Wolf had gotten lost in the storm. Stopping to stare around him, he envisioned snow covering the leaves and memories he'd tried to forget came into focus. One particular blood stain in his past, however, would never fade.
He shivered as the air around him suddenly became colder. None of the leaves moved about him, but it was as if a stiff wind blew right on him. Checking behind him quickly, he felt that someone or something was on the other side of the clearing, but he saw nothing. Walking onward for more sticks, he tried to forget the tragedy that had befallen him one short winter ago.
But a minute later, Sully thought he heard 'die a warrior' spoken in a Cheyenne whisper. He dropped the sticks he'd gathered under his arm and wheeled around to prepare for battle. But there was not another living soul to be seen. All that he could see were the gray trunks of the trees and the fallen leaves carpeting the ground. Shaking his head, he checked himself. He was sure he'd heard the phrase muttered behind him. Looking up at the sky, the afternoon was just about over and he knew he better hurry and get the fire started before all light was completely gone.
'I must just be hungry.' He told himself as he shook off the strange feeling prickling up the back of his neck. Gathering the branches and sticks he'd dropped, Sully was just about to straighten when he was shoved off his feet by someone pushing him from the side. As his right shoulder slammed into the ground, the leaves crunched and swished all around him. Instinctively his hand went to his tomahawk and he pulled the blade to prepare to fight. The hands that had shoved him were definitely strong and full of malicious intent.
But there was nobody standing over him. There was nobody to be seen anywhere. Feeling his heart hammering, Sully spun around and got his feet under him. Crouching there in the leaves, he scanned completely around him, tomahawk ready to strike. But the woods were still as empty as they had been when he and Wolf had arrived.
"Who's there?" Sully spoke in Cheyenne, wondering what kind of unseen force could push like a man. He tried to think of stories Cloud Dancing might have told him about such beings. But, in the fading light, his thoughts were a jumble. He thought of calling for Wolf, but he wasn't sure where the animal would be. Maybe Wolf was avoiding the area because he'd sensed this presence was already there. He'd noted that animals like Wolf had instincts about such things.
Feeling the chill return, Sully straightened and held his blade up, trying to see beyond the gray tones of the fading light of day. No wind stirred the leaves and Sully couldn't even hear a branch snapping to indicate where someone might be walking towards him. Finally, he heard the ghostly whisper behind him say 'Now, face me.' With his heart in his throat, Sully turned to hear the definite sound of a man grunting. In a split second, he ducked as he heard what sounded like a tomahawk fly through the air just narrowly missing his head. The tree behind him echoed with the 'thunk' of iron embedding itself in the wood.
No man stood before him and as Sully quickly glanced behind him to the tree, no tomahawk was stuck in the trunk. But the sounds had been so real that Sully could barely believe it. He'd even felt the wind of the tomahawk as it flew past his head. Not waiting to hear or see anything further, he turned and raced across the clearing to where he'd laid his pack and bow by the pine tree.
As he grabbed the pack, Wolf's howl sounded in the distance and Sully kept right on running towards it. He howled back to let Wolf know that he was on his way. Without turning back, he covered a great distance quickly, putting space between him and the clearing. There was no way he wanted to camp anywhere that housed the ghost of Bright Spears. He was armed against the living, but he knew his bow and tomahawk were no match against the dead.