Bayou Shadow Protector

With speed and precision, they dug out rocks and loaded their weapons.

“How did they find us?” Chulah grumbled. “Haven’t seen this many at one time in months.”

“Me either. The Ishkitini had mostly disappeared, too, after Nalusa’s defeat. Until tonight.”

Chulah frowned. “If that fairy thing guided them to us...”

The accusation cut deep, but she ignored the pain, concentrating on what must be done. April darted closer and killed one more wisp before quickly flying off. To stay longer meant being unwittingly felled by the shadow hunters as they aimed at the wisps.

Chulah stared directly at her. But was blind. “I smell violets.”

She darted away. He needed to concentrate on the wisp attack, not her.

* * *

“This is no good. I’ve got a better plan,” Tombi said. He motioned with his hand. “We have time to flush them out. This way.”

Chulah ran, following him down the game trail, noiseless and unerring in the feeble sliver of moonlight. Only their supernatural shadow-hunting eyesight made it possible to see in such darkness. They had managed to lose the wisps, but they were still clearly in danger.

Tombi looked back over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’ve been hearing the same rustling,” Chulah whispered.

Tombi picked up the pace and Chulah guessed at his strategy. The trail ended at a large clearing. Dangerous to cross at night while being hunted.

“The noise has stopped,” Chulah said in a low, quiet voice.

Tombi held a finger to his lips and Chulah stood silent, straining to pick up any unusual sound.

It came.

A familiar whooshing of air broke the normal night sounds. The sound of a large flock of Ishkitini flying low. Yet another round of attack. They could outrun and hide from the wisps when outnumbered, but the damn birds could always spot them. And where the birds of the night flew, the wisps were sure to follow. Hoklonote sent them to wear down a hunter mentally and physically so that the wisps could easily finish the job when they arrived.

Chulah called on past experience to determine if they had time to cross the field before the birds, huge horned owls, spotted them. If they miscalculated, they were dead meat to the birds of prey. But if they hurried...

Tombi pointed to a stand of cypresses across the field. “Quick to the trees,” he called.

Chulah sprinted side by side with his friend, ever conscious of the approaching birds with their talons of death. Sharp claws that ripped human flesh and feasted on it when possible.

Fifty yards to safety.

Another sound emerged from the generalized whooshing, the flapping of wings and an occasional hoot as the Ishkitini homed in.

Halfway there. The bird noises were so raucous and loud that Chulah’s skin stretched taut, expecting the sting of talon at any moment. If they could just reach the tree grove it would help shield them against the attack.

They made it, quickly scrambling behind the gnarled tree trunks. Position reversed and upper hand gained. Now it was the wisps that had to cross open field. Through the tree branches, Chulah counted at least four or five wisp hearts flashing bright blue green. A signal they were preparing to attack.

Expertly, Chulah retrieved his slingshot, a knife and several rocks from his backpack. He gripped the slingshot in his left hand and the knife in his right. In a move born from years of fighting experience, Chulah positioned the knife so that its blade flared out from the underside of his hand, perfect for slashing. This way he could shoot and keep his knife at the ready to kill any predator that came within striking distance.

The droning of owls filled the air and vibrated in his gut. They were upon them.

Two owls flew within a yard of Chulah, their bloody red eyes glowing with fierce intensity. Chulah raised his hand and slashed down. Once, twice. The smell of blood and nasty meat rent the air. Another owl sank its claws into Chulah’s left biceps. Chulah slammed the owl against a tree trunk and knocked it unconscious. He circled to the front of the tree, loaded his slingshot and fired at a wisp that had closed within thirty yards.

A high-pitched squeal assaulted his ears as the wisp disintegrated into a puff of smoke that emitted an acrid smell. The teal heart trapped within the wisp transformed to a white spark that spiraled upward to the stars.

But there was no time to admire the lovely sight.

A quick glance to his left and his breath caught. Tombi fired at a wisp, killing it, but he paid a price. He was surrounded by the Ishkitini. The largest owl sank its beak into Tombi’s neck.

Damnation.

Chulah rushed over. Tombi slashed the owl that had bit him, but it was too late. Blood streamed from his neck wound and he fell to the ground. At least four owls immediately attacked his prone figure, sinking their talons into his legs and shoulders.

“Help!” Tombi screamed. “You son of a bitch owls. You—”

“I’m here,” Chulah panted, stabbing his friend’s attackers and kicking at others trying to jump or fly at them.

“Look out!” Tombi warned, rolling to his right. “Incoming.”

Blinding strobes of flashing light pulsated in the darkness and Chulah squinted. A cold, foul odor emanated from the nearby wisp and it filled Chulah with an immobilizing dread. No wisp had ever come so close to him. Surprise left him vulnerable. There was no time to mentally shield his mind from the despair the wisps exuded. They fed on human misery. It made them stronger, more lethal.

A rock whizzed by his ear.

“Bingo,” Tombi grunted. “I got it.”

The flashing light extinguished and the trapped soul escaped, lighting up as instantaneously as a struck match and ascending upward. Joy and peace filled Chulah’s heart. The sensation was a hundred times stronger than the wisp’s aura of despair.

Incredibly, the Ishkitini arose en masse and left.

Chulah scrambled to his feet and circled Tombi’s body, searching for more wisps. “I don’t get it,” he mumbled, hands on his hips. “I saw at least three other wisps preparing to attack us. Where did they go?”

“We’d be goners if they’d stuck around,” Tombi said, his voice so faint that Chulah was instantly drawn to a new dilemma.

He dropped to a knee beside his friend. They’d helped each other many times throughout the years, but this was the closest they had come to almost dying. He’d never forget that Tombi had saved his life with the last-minute rock hit.

Tombi, and some stroke of fortune that scared off the Ishkitini and will-o’-the-wisps. Where had that help come from? A mystery to ponder later.

“We need to get you medical help. Quick.” Chulah put one arm under Tombi’s knees and the other beneath his back. With a grunt, he lifted Tombi. Somehow, he’d find the strength to carry him to the cabin.

“Put me down,” Tombi protested. “I can walk.”

Chulah eased him down to his feet and Tombi passed out. Perspiration broke out all over Chulah’s body. He was alone in the woods with a man who might be dying.

Just like his father.

And he’d been unable to save him either.

* * *