Because there were five of them, the Cree could come at him from all different directions. Knowing this, Strikes Fast extended his awareness in a circle around him.
Looking outward between a large gap in the pine branches, Strikes Fast was struck with sudden surprise. There, easily seen between the trees, four of the enemy warriors were stymied and unable move, being surrounded by several large, gray wolves. Strikes Fast saw one of the warriors reach out to strike a wolf near him, but the blow never came. Another even larger wolf came up behind the man, and, growling, it tore the warrior's clothing before it then pushed him to the ground.
Why, there must have been twenty of these wolves, and they made a circle around the four Cree warriors. Also, because the wolves far outnumbered the men, none of the warriors could leave or even make a move without at least one of the wolves reaching out to bite him.
Did he know these wolves, Strikes Fast wondered?
Yes, I do. They are the relations of Eagle Heart, the same ones who often help him.
In fact, Strikes Fast had seen two of these wolves five years ago when they, along with Eagle Heart, Laylah and Gray Falcon, had rescued Strikes Fast's sister and her baby.
Strikes Fast's heart beat strongly in his chest as he realized a truth: although his friends were not physically here, he was not alone in this fight. This battle, then, was not to be a five-to-one fight. Instead, the coming struggle was to be one-to-one.
In the mind speak of the medicine men, Strikes Fast said to Eagle Heart, "Your wolves are here. Thank you, my friend."
Eagle Heart acknowledged him briefly.
With his perceptiveness extended into the environment, Strikes Fast heard the crunching of a stick. The sound was originating from close by and to his left. Sweeping his attention toward that exact place, Strikes Fast saw the leader of the Cree war party. The man held a knife between his teeth, while on forearms and knees only, the Cree crept carefully, and as noiselessly as possible, through the bush.
Strikes Fast waited, silently unsheathing his knife while his mind and his eyes were centered on the slow progress of the Cree leader. Patiently, he waited for the right moment.
When he saw the man reach for the knife he carried between his teeth, Strikes Fast jumped up and came down upon him, swiping at the warrior's arm. But, though the Cree leader cried out, he recovered as swiftly as a wounded bear. Bounding to his feet, the Cree lurched forward, his knife raised in one hand and a tomahawk held high in the other. Wielding them in a circular fashion, the Cree bent over at the knees and prepared to attack.
With blood pumping through him, Strikes Fast met this first attack with raw strength and pushed the other warrior to the ground. Then, with his own knife raised and ready to plunge into the Cree's neck, he jumped full-bodied on top of the other warrior.
But, the enemy countered the attack with an animal-like vigor and shoved Strikes Fast away, causing Strikes Fast to roll over backward into a vulnerable position. The Cree warrior wasted no time then in pinning Strikes Fast to the ground, and, with the tip of his knife pointed directly at Strikes Fast's throat, using both hands the Cree tried to shove the knife downward into his throat. It would have been a death blow.
Strikes Fast countered the move by using the Cree's singular effort and he shoved the man away, but not before the Cree cut a deep gash into Strikes Fast's upper arm.
Strikes Fast cried out, yet he ignored the pain and the gushing blood as he jumped up to his feet. Bending his knees, and, with his weapons raised in the air, it was he who was now brandishing his war hatchet in a circular motion.
The Cree rushed toward him, and, using his tomahawk, came at him with the awful temper and strength of a bull. Strikes Fast blocked the Cree's swing and, using the Cree's forward motion, knocked the man to his knees.
Strikes Fast made a movement to deal the death blow to the Cree, but stayed his hand when he beheld a sudden look of utter terror take over the man's countenance.
And, when the Cree leader shouted out, "A monster!" and was using both arms and legs to scramble backward over the ground, Strikes Fast could have easily administered the blow that would kill him.
And, so conditioned was Strikes Fast to the art of battle, he raised his hatchet and made a move to put this Cree coward out of his misery. But, then his own words came suddenly at him as though they were shouted upon the wind:
Before You now, I pledge my sacred honor that, if I live, I shall seek the straight medicine path.
At once, Strikes Fast recognized these words as his own promise to the Creator. In the intensity and single-minded determination of battle, he had almost forgotten.
But, he remembered his pledge now.
With his arms still holding his heavy hatchet up level with his shoulders, Strikes Fast looked forward to see the Cree leader jump to his feet and then raise up his arms in surrender.
Though it took every bit of spiritual strength for Strikes Fast to do it, he lowered his weapon and with one hand signed his acceptance of his enemy's surrender. Then, as quick as a bird on wing, the Cree warrior turned and ran away as though evil spirits had come to life and were chasing him. In truth, the appearance of the man was one of horror.
It was difficult, however, for Strikes Fast to shake off all of his lifelong conditioning as a warrior. Raising his war hatchet into the air, Strikes Fast let go a war cry of victory, realizing even as he was shouting, this win was more than a success over his enemy; he had won an internal battle over the predator instinct within himself.
He was, once again, a medicine man.
****
As Strikes Fast was fighting his own battle against the war party's leader, Coyote determined he would fight through the circle of wolves, even knowing he would suffer the pain of wolf bites. Their jaws could and probably would slash through his clothing, and their sharp teeth could split open the muscles of his legs. He'd once seen it happen to a man.
But, he would not remain trapped, and, with a determined speed, he ran out of the circle. Two of the wolves jumped on him at once, growling and hacking at him. One went in for the kill, biting Coyote's legs and ankles, then kept at it, over and over again. And, all the while, another wolf had jumped onto his back and was biting him there.
