After being chauffeured by Nessie along the forests and hills of the farm, a weight was lifted from my shoulders.
I'm not alone.
Michael.
Listens to Wind.
Mister.
Waldo.
And now Nessie.
She was returning home as moonlight bathed the path when a shrill whistle pierced the calm. She dipped her head, sprinted like a mad Ferrari and I had to hold to her neck for dear life.
She came to a halt and I was reacquainted with the taste of grass.
"Bad girl! Bad g-"
From my upside down view, a vision of ages past came alive. Tomahawk at the left, bolas on the right, quiver on the back. His boots were framed by obsidian knives.
The Bow was strung and held at the ready on his left.
But what made me swallow my hammering heart was his war-painted face. "Brother Ranger, the taint unsettles the spirits."
I came to my feet. "Wha ..whe ...What's happening?"
"Grab your weapons. We ride southwest."
I darted inside. Machete? Check. Armor….oohyesss. Quiver, blowgun, hat. Check, check aaand check.
I hauled ass and joined my death-tootin mentor.
Who offered me massive hand cannon. "This belonged to him. It embodies your grandsire's philosophy." He handed me my grandfather's weapon along with a loaded gun belt.
My hands caressed the revolver's frame. Checkered wood grip for sweaty hands. Mate paint hiding any reflection that would give away your position. I lighted a flame and read the inscription.
Peacemaker
I donned it and climbed on Nessie's saddle. "Boss, I don't see your horse."
He grasped the stone by his neck and stomped his heels on the ground. A dirt platform raised and he stepped on it. "Spirit of EARTH, we, Rangers, are ready to protect the land." And took off.
HE IS SURFING! HOW IS HE SURFING? I clicked my jaw shut. Braced myself on the stirrups. "Let's catch the bastards who ripped the wings of those little guys."
Nessie exhaled smoke from her nostrils and growled. We rode to battle.