.: I think one of the hardest parts about being an aspiring writer (whether as a hobby or a career) is feeling like you HAVE to do things a certain way or else you'll fail to capture people's attention. I know I used to struggle with that big time because I was so concerned about having readers. Nowadays, I have a mindset of writing about things because I genuinely want to without putting restraint on myself. For this backstory, I have struggled deciding elements such as what characters should be like. I have hit tropes and done personality types, but one thing I have not done yet is a male character going through a struggle. In our world, it's easy to view a man as lacking masculinity if he shows vulnerability or emotions. I want to tackle that with these next few chapters. :.

The Girl with A Half-Soul

Chapter 43:

The Wolf Woman: Warcry

They waited in the brush, staying completely still to mask their presence. When the wind blew, the sound of the tall grass grazing against each other was all to be heard out in the prairie. The starless night sky shrouded the bodies from being noticeable, but it could not compete with the campfires that kept the enemy company. Strangers wearing the same white, sleeveless uniforms laughed and drank together while a big grill sizzled with dinner. The disposed carcass of a bison was all that remained for evidence of their wrongdoing.

To make matters worse, some of the missing horses they had been searching for were accounted for. They stood nearby while tied to a post. The outsiders tamed them. Others were already off the island for other uses. Things like that were why tensions were coming to a head tonight. The Lun'aecho were not violent or unreasonable people. They were pushed to act against these invaders.

One warrior emerged from the grass while remaining out of sight. He snuck behind a tented wagon and paused to listen. Some of the outsiders were starting to become inebriated from their liquor. When he was sure that nobody was paying attention, he inched to the post to free the horses. A smack to their rear got them to whinny and hurry away to escape. Of course, that was what alerted the outsiders to the fact that they had trouble.

Surprise attacks were the only way the Lun'aecho could get an upper hand in confrontations. As the Marines stood up abruptly to retrieve their guns, arrows started whizzing by from the darkness surrounding them. Some were hit or killed while the rest started repeatedly pulling triggers to shower bullets toward the tall grass.

The sound of a bullet hitting someone directly in the skull made a grotesque wet splick! that made the cowering warrior next to him flinch. He was stuck on his hands and knees with his head tucked. Knowing that the person directly next to him was now a corpse made him squeeze his eyes shut. He did not want to look. This was his worst nightmare.

The stakes started rising and the rest of the warriors ran from the grass to go head-to-head with the Marines. This was not the first time they caught them off guard. It was also not the first battle they were destined to lose. War cries from the natives were silenced one after another. He listened as he remained frozen. All his years trained to fight were all for nothing. He did not want to fight; he wanted to flee. With a face twisting in anguish, he felt his stomach palpitate with quiet sobs.

All around him, gunfire sprayed, and bodies collapsed. He just wanted it to stop. The outsiders needed to leave their island, and his tribe needed to stop wasting their lives like this. It felt so hopeless. Finally rising to his feet, he got a clue as to how the conclusion was going to look. Then he ran away. He turned his back and fled. The shame he would bring upon himself crept up, but he did not care. The tears streaming down his face were shameful enough.

"Lakota!" a familiar female voice called out to him.

His breathing deepened as he refused to turn back. Knowing that his best friend was a witness to his getaway was embarrassing. Still, she was far more worthy of the battle than he ever was. If anyone was destined to survive without abandoning their brethren, it was Cherokee. But his mindset of her did not match with how she grabbed his wrist to stop him. It was true that she would not abandon their brethren, but she sure as hell would never abandon him.

"Don't run away, Kota," she pleaded. "You run away from this, you run away from everything."

"I don't want to die!" he sobbed.

"Then stay with me. I'll protect you."

He finally looked over his shoulder at her, seeing her black silky hair tied into two braids with red ribbon woven in them, and a singular feather hung past her left ear. Their shared childhood flashed past his eyes. While he was panicking, she was completely calm. But it did not comfort him at all. The awareness that he was unworthy of protection caused him to pull away from her grasp. "I can't," he whimpered, taking a few steps away from her before running again.

Watching him disappear cut a hole in her chest. All he did was doubt her and their people. But she still could not make herself think lowly of her best friend. Lakota was just a human being who could not handle the war they were born into. It ate away at him every day. He was in so much pain. Today's attack backfiring on them was a breaking point. She feared what he would encounter when he returned to the tribal grounds. It could be far worse than disappointment.

Cherokee the Lun'aecho warrior looked back at the camp to see the carnage. She was one of the last ones standing. A man wearing the white uniform slashed his saber across a warrior's chest to cut him down. Another stumbled to the dirt when a spear pierced his abdomen. So much bloodshed. So little glory. But she could make all the sacrifices of her people worth it in the end. Without having to lift a finger, a dark figure rounded her. She would see Lakota again by dawn, and he would not see a single wound on her body. The Marines all suddenly screamed and silenced with death, and their blood poured into the land they tried to seize.

The World Government came into existence when twenty kingdoms formed an alliance eight-hundred years before the Great Pirate Era. A little less than two-hundred nations affiliated themselves with it, allowing for the military presence to maintain law and order within them. A power that covered majority of the world could have achieved contentment, but there was a time when their greed drove them further. Some islands did not have kingdoms, rulers, or even civilizations. Places like Lone Star Island just had natives who kept to themselves. They were viewed as easy targets.

It started with making camps on the shores. The Marines were left alone for a while since they did not appear threatful from a distance. Wildlife flourished, so they hunted for sport. The bison population was drastically decreasing as a result. Then they started taking things. The horse herds mysteriously disappeared. The Lun'aecho tribe found the strangers taming the horses and riding them. Many were also shipped away. Not only did the excessive larceny upset the natives of the island, but it also upset the ecosystems. It became obvious that the Marines were parasites who were sucking the life from everything they touched. They needed to be stopped.

When the Lun'aecho tried to negotiate peacefully, they were met with resistance. After all, why would soldiers with greater numbers and better weapons stand down against a bunch of savages? They had no clue how to govern themselves. That was why the World Government should take the responsibility off their hands.

This was a time when cowboys had yet to establish their presence in Lone Star Island. It was notably before the island received that name, too. There were no towns, no railroads, and no modern civilization that those of the Great Pirate Era knew. It was just a lot of rolling hills with mountains right in the center. Although it was up for grabs from the outside, that was far from the truth. The Lun'aecho people lived throughout its entirety. From roaming the frontier, to surviving the deserts, and taking refuge in the mountains. Their numbers were widespread enough to have different ways of life, but the one thing that kept them allied was their faith in the moon's protection. A moon phase was painted on everyone's forehead to signify it.

Like many before them, the World Government did not care about how indigenous they were to the island. They had already taken care of the natives of what would later be known as Appalachia. The Lun'aecho were next to submit.

Except they refused. By the time this story took place, a whole generation of warriors had been born only knowing war. Battles were lost and won. So far, both sides of the conflict were generally equal in terms of strength. The Marines possessed better weapons, but the Lun'aecho were more ruthless. Little did the Lun'aecho know that tides were about to change. They knew the Marines had more manpower; every time they eliminated some, they were almost immediately replaced. The Lun'aecho lacked such luxury. It was devastating to lose any warrior. The women simply could not bear children fast enough to replenish the lost. Many children lost one or both parents in the thick of it.

Their longing to keep their home was mighty, but some knew that this was the beginning of the end for them. They were only delaying the inevitable. The ones who grew up fighting were the most aware of it. They were bred to continue their parents' and elders' war.

In times when things were peaceful, their sadness was the most apparent. They were constantly training with few breaks. They were physically conditioned but mentally worn. That did not stop one individual from giving her all. She felt like she had to for others who remained in her life, even if it meant pushing them to do the same.

While most reciprocated the young warrior's efforts as a boost in morale, her childhood best friend struggled. Like her, he was orphaned due to the war. They stuck together because of it. Lately, though, he appeared to have deflated in motivation. Their training sessions had her trying to find the root cause; however, being tough with him brought guilt to her. She did not want to rub salt on the wound he was licking.

They picked an area that felt secluded from their faction of the tribe. A young man wearing leather garments adorned with beads, pebbles, and fringe of fur stood with a garment tied around his eyes. The bow in his grasp had an arrow loosely pressed into it. He waited.

A head peeked from behind a tree. Usually that was enough of an indication to shoot. It was like the warrior was genuinely unaware of her whereabouts. Testing this, she practically floated over the grass to get closer. Not even a head swivel came from him. Holding back a sigh, she lightly tapped the back of his head with the end of a wrapped baton. "Dead," she claimed.

He exhaled with annoyance and uncovered his eyes. "Can we be done for the day?" he requested.

"Come on, Kota. You haven't detected me once since we started." She rounded him to stand in front, eyeing his signature mohawk that had been shaved and shaped recently. His reddish skin color appeared darker under the shade, making his brown irises almost black from her perspective.

"I'm not feeling it right now. I told you this before we started," he reminded her, watching her auburn gaze remain steady. Unlike him, her leather garments looked more like a dress on her, and they were not as decorated.

"Sometimes we have to push past our limits," she reasoned.

He nearly rolled his eyes and turned away. "Keekee."

"Kota."

"We've been pushing ourselves every day. And for what?"

She stood in silence. Wanting to answer him but not knowing how left her with just the ability to watch him drop his weapon and sit against a tree in defeat. His hand rubbed the back of his neck, and when he pulled it away, a prominent patch of pale flesh showed itself again.

"I'm tired, Keekee."

"Okay. Then we can take a break–"

"That's not what I'm talking about."

The way he brushed a hand through his hair and did not have the energy to look up at her had her thinking about how all of their training sessions this week had been a struggle like this. If spending time with her was not enough motivation for him, then she needed to get to think of another way. Cherokee dropped the baton and sat in front of him. Instead of having things her way, it was time to give up control. "I'm listening."

Lakota hesitated. His feelings and opinions were not ones to say aloud. If anyone overheard him, he would be labeled a selfish coward. Warriors were expected to put others before them. They had to protect those who could not protect themselves. But that was exactly the problem. "You know just as well as I do that our days are numbered."

The statement shocked her. She looked around them to see if they were truly alone. "Shhh."

"What? I'm telling the truth. Why should I hide it?"

"Because you swore an oath when you became a warrior, Kota. Sheesh. Someone catching you with that kind of attitude can get you in trouble."

"Okay? And?"

His lack of concern agitated her. It was almost like he dared their leader to punish him. With numbers steadily dwindling, they could hardly afford to do it. Usually, the harshest method was sending someone out unarmed so that the enemy could finish them off, but nobody had been subjected to that. The worst that could happen was excommunication. If Lakota was losing his will to fight and was unwilling to protect the weak, then there truly was no point in keeping him around.

But nobody knew him like Cherokee did. Lakota was a person who cared too deeply for his own good. She knew he just wanted to be a strong warrior who could come out the other side of this war. He wanted to rebuild. He wanted to have a family that he failed to grow up with. Maybe it was her that was barely keeping his head above water. That creeping feeling of impending doom was slowly desensitizing him from his true self.

Lakota needed companionship, a reason to look forward to the future again. And she was right there, yet so far away. She did not know how to tell him that everything would be okay and make it become a reality. At this point, he wanted to be put out of his misery. It was not the solution to anything, though. She needed him to see that.

"If I talk, will you listen?"

He nodded once without looking her in the eye.

"Maybe as a tribe, yes, our days are numbered. You're probably right about that. This land very well be lost to us. But that doesn't mean we have to give up because I refuse to lose you."

He scoffed. "Would I really be that much of a loss?"

"Yes! You may not see value in yourself, but I do. This land isn't my home. You're my home, Kota. Please fight with me."

He was ready to deflect her plea, but when he looked her in the face, he stopped. His childhood friend was not one to get emotional. She built walls in the name of bravery. For the first time, Kota saw those walls come down to be vulnerable. Her auburn gaze was glossy with a film of tears blinking over them. Immediately, he regretted the things he said. They were very hurtful and selfish.

When he failed to reply, Cherokee shifted to her knees and crawled over until she could embrace him. "If you won't fight for our people, then fight for me. Can we compromise with that?"

The comforting touch got him to truly relax. He melted into her by returning the embrace and not wanting to let go. It was his way of agreeing to the proposition, but he never verbally confirmed it. He just wanted things to go back the way they were before. Back when they were children who did not have to worry about if the next day would be their last. Now they were both basically adults with responsibilities. If it were not for Cherokee's reputation as one of the best warriors of their generation, she would have been relieved of her duties to focus on becoming a mother. As long as she refrained from domestic matters, she would continually risk her life. And the more she did that, the more likely this hug could be their last.

"Keekee–"

The sound of an arrival horn sounded far off in the distance, and many more responded in acknowledgement. It caused them both to look up through the treetops. Their nearby faction of the tribe blew their horn, too. Ever since this war began, all the factions living in the mountains kept track of each other coming and going. It was a way to rotate warriors to be sent to battle and see what injuries needed tending to.

Out of habit, the two jumped up and hurried to their saddled bison. They did not wait for anyone else as they set out to see if another battle with the invaders had a better outcome than the one they fought two nights ago. The hunched backs kept them elevated enough to have a better view of their surroundings. The biodiverse forest that completely carpeted the mountain range had yet to taste the war, so it was as lush as ever. Grunts and stomping from their bison had white-tailed deer scurry away. A river that flowed from abundant groundwater was splashed through without difficulty. If the invaders overtook this place, it was bound to be deforested and polluted with modern civilization.

Before anyone else could join them, Cherokee and Lakota caught up with the brigade to find it in shambles. Bodies were wrapped and the injured had yet to have their wounds treated. Cherokee gasped and quickly halted her bison to jump off. She was knowledgeable with medical practices and herbal remedies, always keeping a supply on her just in case. The most severely injured were the first to be seen. Lakota just slid off, unsure what to do.

They were lucky to have dragged themselves back this far. Not many could walk easily. He milled through the small crowd and past bison until he found the one who led the charge. "I didn't know there was another ambush planned," he said with worry.

"There wasn't," he replied, rebandaging his arm. "They ambushed us."

Hearing that disheartened him. Those invaders were getting bolder. It even seemed like they were starting to catch on to how the Lun'aecho operated. Suddenly, an even deeper sense of hopelessness washed over him. Sooner or later, they would close in on them and leave them no avenues of escape.

"The only good thing to come out of it was I found out their next plan," he continued. "We should gather as many warriors as possible and attack before they go through with it."

Lakota lightened in spirit. "That's great news. When?"

"Tomorrow. Will you fight?"

The breath in his trachea paused before exhaling. Flashbacks of his last battle came and went as fear drained color from his face. But he glanced over his shoulder at Cherokee, remembering their conversation. All he had to do was uphold his word. Why was it so hard? He hated feeling like she was not worth it internally because that was far from the truth. He loved Keekee so much that leaving her alone in this lifetime or simply being apart from her hurt. She said that he was her home. Well, she was his home, too.

"Yes," he suddenly blurted out, looking back at the warrior. "We'll gather warriors."