The sun climbed high over the Stallion Plains, painting the grasslands in golden hues as Taniel bid farewell to Maria and Sahari outside the multi-purpose house. He hugs both and kisses them each on the lips with Sahari glad she has gotten closer to them both for such an action to be natural now. Their lessons awaited—Maria guiding Sahari through English phrases, and Mistia and Mohova guiding the two through spirit chants and more understanding of the spirits power and the connection to their elements, the air was thick with the scent of fresh-cut wood and blooming wildflowers, a result of the poultice helping clear the impurities from the girls bodies and making them healthier.
Taniel's hand lingered on Maria's freckled cheek, then squeezed Sahari's tattooed shoulder, his musk a subtle promise. 'Stay sharp, and stay safe. I'll return this afternoon so we can enjoy a hearty meal together' he rumbled, before striding off to join his hunting party. His two budding lovers waving and sporting smiles full of affection.
Lightning Hawk, Shadow Knife, and Wolf Fang waited at the edge of camp, bows slung across backs, quivers full of flint-tipped arrows. Tomahawks at their belts and only Lightning hawk and Taniel carrying spears. The four warriors moved like shadows through the tall grass, eyes scanning for signs of the growing predator incursions—puma prints too close to the herd's grazing paths, bear scat mingled with badger tracks. 'Something's driving them in,' Taniel muttered, crouching to examine a fresh claw mark on a tree trunk. 'Not natural.'
As they crested a ridge, the teasing began. Lightning Hawk, lean and quick with a scar across his jaw, grinned. 'Two beauties in your herd already, Thunderhoof? Maria's fire and Sahari's storm—the spirits favor you.' Shadow Knife, silent usually, chuckled low, his dark braids swaying. 'Heard you kept them up late. Building that bond strong?' Wolf Fang, broad and bearded, slapped Taniel's back. 'Exotic finds like that? We'd snag mates too if the winds blew them our way.'
Taniel laughed, deep and rumbling, flexing his arms as they pushed through underbrush. 'Hurry and claim your own, brothers. Can't let me herd all the finest mares.' The group erupted in good-natured chuckles, agreeing with nods and jabs about spirit-given luck. Taniel opened his mouth to fire back when a foul stench hit them—rotting flesh, carried on the breeze like a curse.
They froze, then crept forward. There, in a clearing, lay a buffalo corpse: massive body bloated under the sun, a clean hole punched through its skull. Horns gone, hide stripped in ragged patches, but the prime meat festered untouched, maggots already writhing in the exposed ribs. Bones picked clean of marrow lay scattered, wasted. Taniel's fists clenched, a growl building in his chest. 'Filth,' he spat. 'They mock the land.'
The party tracked the killers swiftly—boot prints heavy in the soil, drag marks from the hide. Hours later, they crested another rise, peering down at a ragged camp nestled by a stream. Tents sagged under loads of crates, overflowing with furs and hides stacked high. A few held jerked meat, fewer still held bones or horns, the crates told the story from the amount of hides and lack of bones and meat that they were butchering them for only the things worth money without a care of using the remaining half of the animal—proof of wanton slaughter. Ten men lounged around a fire, faces weathered and cruel, armed to the teeth. Muskets leaned against logs, barrels gleaming as two of their members cleaned them with rags and oil. The rest belted pistols and knives, laughing over stew.
Taniel signaled: spread out, find cover. His brothers melted into the rocks and trees, bows drawn, arrows nocked. 'What of you?' Lightning Hawk whispered. Taniel's grin flashed white. 'Distraction.' They nodded, slipping to sniper perches.
The killers ate and swigged from flasks when the voice echoed from the forest—deep, ethereal, ancient as the earth itself, laced with fury. 'Leave these lands. Apologize to the beasts you've butchered... or die.' Pistols whipped out, knives glinting as the men scanned the trees, smirks twisting their lips. 'Good coin, this,' the leader barked, a burly one with a scarred cheek. 'Our business—and side trades.' He kicked a nearby cage, iron bars rattling. A yelp pierced the air, feminine and accented, echoing Sahari's lilt.
Taniel's blood boiled. He stepped from the shadows, towering and unarmed, voice steady. 'You are hunting and butchering animals on protected land from a treaty with the colonies. You have a choice. Release her and leave with your lives, or die and waste all of these animals you butchered for your sick trades.'
Laughter exploded from the camp at the sight of an unarmed native against ten armed men. 'One savage? Easy pickings!' Muskets barked in unison—eight iron pellets slamming into Taniel's chest and gut. He shuddered, blood blooming dark on his tunic, knees buckling as he crumpled to the dirt.
Whoops and cheers rang out—cut short by a grunt. The scarred leader spun, eyes widening at his comrade, an arrow buried through one eye, body slumping dead. Arrows whistled from cover: ten from each warrior, slamming into shoulders, backs, thighs. Men screamed, clutching wounds as blood sprayed. Four dead in seconds, two writhing wounded, four having found cover and scrambled for their muskets.
Growls rose as they searched for Taniel's friends only for one killer to help as he pointed to where Taniels corpse should be laying—only an indent in the soil, smeared with his blood. No body. Then, a shadow loomed behind the leader. He whirled to face a nightmare given flesh: nine feet of rippling muscle, a werehorse hybrid towering like a storm cloud. Black mane cascaded wild, body carved with an eight-pack of stone-hard abs, arms and legs thicker than oaks, veins bulging under midnight fur. The face—equine skull with piercing human eyes, nostrils flaring—bellowed deep: 'You chose death.'
Screams shattered the air. Taniel's fist crashed into the leader's chest, caving ribs and hurling him into a tree with a wet crack, body breaking in half as guts and bone fragments spurted out to cover the forest floor. The others bolted or fired wildly—bullets glancing off his hide. He charged, hooves thundering, grabbing one by the throat and slamming him down, neck snapping into a pancake. Another swung a knife; Taniel caught the arm, twisting casually until bone shattered, then stomped the skull flat.
His brothers loosed arrows into fleeing backs of the remaining killers, pinning runners to trunks or ground. Shadow Knife's shaft pierced a thigh, Wolf Fang's a lung. Lightning Hawk dropped the last with a headshot. The last wounded killer crawled, begging; Taniel's hoof crushed his pistol hand as he drew it in desperation, then his windpipe followed shortly after. Brutal, efficient—the dance of vengeance ended in pants and silence, blood soaking the earth.
Bullets popped out from Taniel's flesh like spent seeds, wounds knitting shut under his spirit's power. He turned to the cage, iron groaning as he ripped the door free, hinges screeching. He squatted down to see the African woman shaking at the display. Heavy iron bands on her wrists, ankles, and neck. She was dressed in only a rag of a bra wrap and a ragged skirt. Taniel chuffed in annoyance but slowly reached in. The poor young woman flinched and yelped as his massive hand reached into her cage but her eyes widened in shock at what he did. Her shackles snapped in his grip like twigs. The young woman, her ebony skin marked by bruises and chains even without he shackles now, had her wide eyes flickering with terror and hope as Tankle smiles gently at her after backing up a step while taking her broken chains with him outside the cage. 'Th-thank you,' she stammered in broken English, voice trembling as she slowly walked out of the cage while being guided by a handsome looking Lightning hawk who was holding her hand to help her out of the iron bars.
'You're safe now,' Taniel said gently, form shimmering back to human—tall, muscled, blood-streaked but whole. 'We'll take you to a friend. Sahari.' Her eyes widened, tears spilling as she clutched the bars' remnants. 'Sahari? My best... we captured together. Same ship, separated at docks. She lives?' Joy cracked her voice despite the horse-man horror she'd witnessed. Lightning hawk gives her a supportive pat on the back as she turns to him he nods and she smiles wider as happy tears spill from her eyes.
Taniel sees this and smiles at how Lightning hawk is already making subtle courtship moves on her. He looks to the girl and tells her, 'Yes she is a friend to the tribe and a budding lover to me. She'll rejoice at your return.' The woman straightened, lithe and resilient, dark curls framing a face etched with survival. 'Ayana. I go with you. Saviors.'
The warriors whistled sharp signals, summoning other patrols to haul the spoils: muskets stacked, pistols pocketed, knives sheathed, ammo crates dragged. Supplies—flint, powder, food—claimed for the tribe. Bodies left sprawled, a feast for pumas, bears, badgers—the predators they'd displaced. 'Let nature reclaim,' Taniel growled, face hardening as plans formed. 'This breaks the treaty. Colonies encroach. I'll speak to the other tribes—unite against this poison.'
Ayana walked between them staying close to Lightning hawk as he keeps an arm around her waist to help steady her due to her exhaustion from the days of being enslaved and stuck in an iron cage. With his support and a small smile of thanks Ayanas steps gain strength, the wind carrying away the camp's rot as the party melted back into the plains, guardians unbroken.