Hroks vision was nearly clear by the time Warfrok and the tribesmen returned, mounted on their bisons. Their faces wrinkled and distorted, revenge burning in their eyes. Hrok mounted his own and buried his heels into the beast, arm raised, releasing a war cry that sent a pair of crows, nesting on the sign, shrieking skyward.
The earth pounded, loose stones rising to the top of the sand, and flipping. Their bison driving horn into and bush and cacti that stood in their way while wind howled all around them as though the ancestors came join their raid.
"Once we find them we will butcher the cattle, slain the old one, rape the girl, and have the boy watch with his eyelids pinned backed."
The men roared behind him.
There was no other way. He had failed them ... If they were to follow him into the tournament he must give them blood, rations, and flesh. It was the only way to keep them from turning on him on their return.
E'krek rode ferociously beside him, smirking. "You've spoke well, my Kallri." He said loud enough to carry above the wind. "With such rewards given, you'll bring blithe back to our tribe." The young Yurk was too wise for lame words. Hrok nodded at him.
By the time the sun had hidden and the moon came out to hunt, they found the carriage parked in the dead of desert and the horse patrolling the ground, uprooting lush, yellowish-green grass unseen on the ranch.
Hrok yanked his bison to a stop and his men dismounted. The twenty bodies glided across the sand. Their footsteps quiet. breathing still. Stalking the wagon like panthers on the prowl.
Quam grabbed the back carriage door and whipped it open. They raised their weapons; Two bright green eyes and a fearless grin greeted them.
"Howdy, boys!" Quincy waved, sitting on the bench, puffing his pipe, and hovering over the old one who was sprawled out, snoring.
Jerocobish looked worse than before. The moonlight unable to hide the black webs that masked his face. And the darkness that washed over his eyes.
Hrok peaked inside, nose wrinkled. "Where's the girl?"
Proknock lumbered over to them. "My Kallri! One of the horses are gone…"
The boys grin widened while he puffed until his face was vanished behind a cloud of gray.
Hrok groaned, driving his knuckles into the wagon until they tore and were left wet of his own blood. He groaned once more. "Men!" He punched the wagon once more and it shook. "We must continue our pursuit!"
E'krek touched his shoulder, he faced him, breathing heavy as a bull.
"My Kallri… Let the men take the prisoners back. If Jostice comes we'll need ever man prepared for his arrival."
"And what of the girl?"
"You and I are the fastest riders." He looked to the eye in the sky. "The moon is still you. If we leave now we'll be upon by high moon."
Quincy chuckled, his face reappeared, smoke faded. "My Sis will be a hard one to catch … She's no simple rider … but skilled, more so than I am."
Hrok reached into the carriage and snatched the boys throat. His calloused hands whitened while Quincy face purpled. "Don't tempt me, boy." Hrok squeezed, but the boy didn't fit. He threw him back then spoke to his men. "Take them to the ranch, but don't harm them until I get back… The farmhouse is yours! Let this filth sleep in the barn."
The men roared; their arms raised and guns wailing.
Hrok spoke to E'krek, "We ride with the wind!"
Several hours of jerking on a bison at full sprint left the groin raw, the legs stiff, and the back and neck screaming.
They came to a pair of large oval-shaped boulders that looked like they'd been dropped from the sky; nothing else around them except the cacti and desert sand that was as dull as dried mud. A safe place to wet the tongue and stretch.
They dismounted, passing a canteen, silent for several minutes, just until their thirst had gone and the ache had lessened.
Hrok was tired of staring south and instead turned his head towards the east. "I wish you'd had seen it … the Praire Hum Territory. You'd of loved." He spoke of the lands seldomly to the young Yurk. Why speak of it now, he didn't quite understand; a man speaks when he yearns for too long for something. "The fields are golden while the mountains loom white as the rivers that sweep through the valley." He smiled. "And the bison graze, waving their tails to ward of the flies that bother … When you take a breath, the air comes in cold and fresh then warms the throat, and blooms the lungs. With water so rich your thirst is taken after one shallow swallow. Oh, how I've missed it."
"How longs it been?" There was sadness in E'kreks tone. "How long have you yearned for that moment to return?"
Hrok took a slow breath, "I've forgotten all time…"
"I understand," E'krek nodded, eyes trembling. Hrok remained watchful to the east. "I've yearned for as long as you … but for this moment."
The words hardly graced his ears. Hrok whispered, "and what is this moment?"
His body jerked while a pointed-stoned edge protruded from his throat. Hrok gasped. Blood trailing down his throat. E'krek wrapped his arms around the man growing stronger while the strength left Hroks legs and collapsed, gasping. Choking on blood.
"Keep that place in your head and listen." E'krek words were filled with cruel kindness. He whispered in his ear while Hrok jerked; no power left. E'krek's hold kept him facing east. "You can not save your people. If you become Kallri they will perish — I've been shown the future — by great spells of the invaders, I've been shown … And only I can save them from the terror to come." He wept. "And I know you loved them more than me … And I love you more than you myself … therefore I will save the people and make Bonejaq pay for what he'd done to you."
The tear that rolled down Hroks face was warm, and the blood that filled his lungs was hot, and as he faded, he reached a hand towards the east, where a field of gold waited to greet him.