Chapter Five
AN: Sorry about the delay but I lost my inspiration to write for awhile. Feels like its coming back. Slowly but surely. I've also got addicted to Kdramas so that's been helping tremendously! Seriously, folks… if you've never watched Korean dramas, you're missing out on AWESOME shows! All other tv pales in comparison! I get bored with American tv now. *snore=fest!*
I dare you to watch Guardian: The Lonely and Great God or Hotel Del Luna without bawling your eyes out!
The only drawback to Kdrama is they aren't dubbed/voice over… only subtitles. I'm currently learning Korean just so I don't have to rely on subtitles. Aside from buying my 20+ favorite dramas,(shut up, don't judge me) I pay a few dollars a month for unlimited streaming of Asian shows on VIKI dot com. TOTALLY WORTH IT! OMG!
If you want a 'taste' of kdrama, check out the CEREAL channel on youtube… I recommend starting out watching "Bring it on Ghost!" there. If you like darker/scarier/action/suspense/thriller, then I recommend, "VOICE" also available on that channel. And it's free. :D
And now.. on with the chapter… which I'm just about done with the next one too… it gets darker from this point, be warned.
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The dawn came too early, and with gusto, he marched with his full accompaniment to the next designated zone. Goodnight was assigned a scouting position, eagle eyes missing nothing. Patches of trampled grass and cold fire stones gave clear signs of the enemy's recent passing.
Goodnight kept vigil, rifle kept lax in his grip as his horse wound through the trees. The terrain had changed from sparsely wooded meadows to choking forest, the ground rocky and twisted with thick roots. Horses twitched their ears and whinnied, tossing their heads, no doubt catching the scent of natural predators.
Goodnight heard the river before he saw it, a high bluff of a two story water fall, with a bed of unforgiving jagged rocks jutting upward to break the white foam. The deep water gave way to a wide sandbar not far downriver. Goodnight surveyed the area and jolted into action.
An encampment of blues! At least a hundred! They were mostly loitering, a handful of sentries monitoring the water in a bored manner. If Goodnight wasn't mistaken, one man was sleeping where he stood!
He waited until his company was in position and took aim. A sharp report and the sleeping man fell, never to wake. Blues scurried around their camp like ants, but they didn't last long. An hour of combat and the grays crossed the river, claiming the victory and the enemy camp.
Bodies were left where they fell for the carrion birds and other scavengers. Horses, food, medical supplies, and ammunition were distributed. Tents and personal belongings were divided as spoils.
Goodnight found a beautiful pocket watch on one of his victims. Thinking it would fetch a handsome price to help pay for the wedding he knew his lovely Annabelle was planning, he slipped it into his pocket next to his own and stripped the body of ammo and weapons. Another benefit of the enemy camp, they had a good supply of food, which allowed Goodnight a chance to have a full belly for the first time in many weeks.
The river afforded a much needed bath. The men scrubbed off the filth and grim of war and stench of death, their clothes draped over makeshift teepees to dry by the many fires dotted between tents. Several sat around their respective fires naked, but Goodnight was never comfortable with such manners.
He may have been born into a poor family of bayou shamans, but his momma raised him with the proper respect and decorum of a well bred southern gentleman. He kept to his tent, taking the opportunity to address minor wounds and rest. His frame was still too lean, but a couple weeks of good food like the meal he had tonight, and he would regain his heftier, meatier physique.
With the extra supplies, the soldiers were less cramped. Instead of three or four men sharing a rectangle of grass, now two rested comfortably. Goodnight groaned, fatigue setting in. The heat of combat always made his ears pound the taboo of life. It was an ancient song, seemingly since the beginning of time.
Now the adrenaline of the fight was over, and his belly full for the first time in a month, he settled onto his bed, tucked under a new blanket. It was nice and warm, despite smelling like a yankee.
Darkness fell quickly. The fires died down. Voices drifted away as soldiers turned in for much needed rest. Crickets chirped. Frogs and toads sent out their calls. The haunting melody of owls wafted softly through the trees.
His tent mate entered, closing the flap to block out any noise by passing soldier.
Goodnight was barely aware of the man as he settled onto his own bed roll. Within seconds, Goodnight was sound asleep, dreaming of his beautiful Annabelle walking down the aisle.
He wasn't sure how long he slept, but Goodnight was pulled from his dreams by a hand over his face. He gaped, trying to throw the hand off, but the body was much larger and heavier than his own. He tugged feebly at the hand. A man's voice was gruff in his ear.
"Don't make a sound."
Goodnight nodded, senses becoming hyper aware. They must be under attack! His tent mate heard something that put him on alert, and he woke Goodnight so they could mount a defense.
Only, there was no alert or panic signaling an enemy attack.
No sense of fear or urgency.
Other than what Goodnight suddenly realized was pressed against his thigh.
Panicked, he fought, shoving the man's wandering hand away, but the hand over his mouth dropped to his throat, offering a squeeze in warning.
Goodnight choked, gasping for breath as the fingers dug into the soft skin, nearly crushing his windpipe. He scratched at clawed at the hand, but his efforts were futile. His assailant was much larger and tough skinned. The scratches didn't make him flinch.
"I said be quiet!" the man hissed, lifting Goodnight up by the throat and slamming him down.
The impact disoriented Goodnight, but he continued to fight, struggling to break the man's grip from his neck. In his weakened condition, he was unable to put up suitable resistance. The meaty paw was unforgiving. It squeezed Goodnight's throat tighter.
Goodnight's eyes bulged, his jaws worked in silent protest, as he gasped in small amounts of air.
The hand lifted him by the neck again, bashing his head on the ground. Stars winked in his vision. The hand disappeared from his neck.
He struggled to remain conscious, but any hope of being left alone was futile. The man's hands fumbled with Goodnight's belt. Head pounding, neck throbbing, lungs desperate to draw air, he fought the unwelcome hands with all his might, but he was too compromised.
Blackness crept along the corners of his vision. The world swam. Hot breath was on his neck as his wrist was caught and wrenched behind him, flipping him to his stomach.
Darkness claimed him quickly, graciously saving him from the memory of the pain to come.
In the silent night, the owl screamed.
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Feedback appreciated.. hint hint….next chapter coming soon…