Read Online The Legend of Tyoga Weathersby by H L Grandin - Free Book Online
Authors: H L Grandin
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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the makeshift spear. All two hundred pounds of the beast slammed into the boy to knock him flat on his back to the ground.
Tes Qua watched in horror as the makeshift spear went flying from Tyoga’s hands and into the underbrush beyond the light of the dwindling fire. In the blink of an eye, the wolf pivoted and embedded his fangs deep into Tyoga’s right thigh. Before Tyoga had time to realize what had happened, before he even realized that his spear had flown from his hands, the massive beast was dragging him by his thigh towards the fire and Tes Qua.
Flexing his abdominal muscles to keep upright, Tyoga threw his arms behind him to cling to the dirt in order to slow the death drag toward the fire, Tes Qua, and the rest of the pack lurking in the shadows. He felt his fingernails bend to the quick and break while he frantically searched for anything within his grasp that he could use as a weapon. The beast’s massive head was within striking distance of his right hand, but he would not relinquish the purchase of soil that was slowing the horrifying cortege to strike at the wolf. Instead, with their eyes locked in an embrace that would not relent, he kicked at the head of the dog with his left foot.
Intent on the kill, the wolf was not making a sound. He was drooling uncontrollably and Tyoga felt his face being slathered with the thick pungent mucous with each kick.
The death drag continued towards the fire and Tes Qua.
Through the din that was most assuredly his dirge, Tyoga began to make out the cries of his companion.
The legend does not say what he was screaming. But when Tes Qua came into view, as if in a dream, Tyoga could see that in his cocked right hand was the glistening blade of the obsidian tomahawk.
“Closer, Ty. Let him drag you closer. Don’t stop him. Don’t stop him.”
Just as Ty relinquished his rake-like grasp of the forest floor, he felt the outline and weight of a jagged granite stone. He secured it in his right hand, and let the procession proceed.
The wolf had taken only three more steps when Tyoga heard the whirl of the spinning tomahawk. As he saw its flight he lifted the stone and pounded it down as hard as he could upon the head of the deadly beast.
The weapons hit simultaneously.
With a chilling, human-like scream of pain, the wolf released his grip on Tyoga’s thigh.
The tomahawk had hit the Commander hard in his left haunch. While its flight was true, its edge was not; but the sting of the impact left its mark. The crushing blow to the wolf’s head had been even more exacting and the wolf spun twice to nuzzle his thigh and shake the pain from his brow.
“Tes Qua’. The fire. Git the fire goin’. Quick.”
“Ty,” Tes Qua shouted. “Your leg.”
Tyoga looked down at his leg. The fangs had torn flesh and muscle, but the puncture wounds had not incised any major vessels. The wounds were not bleeding badly. “It’s okay, Tes. Ain’t bad. Tend the fire. Quick. My spear. Can’t see the spear, Tes. Did ya see where it went, ‘ta?”
“No time, Ty. He’s coming again’.”
Tyoga did not have the time nor strength to get to his feet. Like a crab scurrying to safety, he shuffled backwards towards the ledge while searching with hands and feet for anything to use as a weapon. When the wolf launched a crazed final charge, his hand felt the handle of the tomahawk. With a powerful swing of the weapon, he stemmed the horrific charge with a cutting blow to the wolf’s left foreleg. He heard the sickening thud and muffled crack of bone as the weapon found its mark. With a wimpering scream of indignation, the wolf backed away while limping toward the shadows beyond the fire’s glow.
Tyoga got to his feet and now became the aggressor.
He circled around in front of the retreating beast before he had time to melt into the underbrush, and forced him to back away toward the precipice of the drop-off into the gorge. There was no more ground for him to yield without tumbling to his
Tes Qua watched in horror as the makeshift spear went flying from Tyoga’s hands and into the underbrush beyond the light of the dwindling fire. In the blink of an eye, the wolf pivoted and embedded his fangs deep into Tyoga’s right thigh. Before Tyoga had time to realize what had happened, before he even realized that his spear had flown from his hands, the massive beast was dragging him by his thigh towards the fire and Tes Qua.
Flexing his abdominal muscles to keep upright, Tyoga threw his arms behind him to cling to the dirt in order to slow the death drag toward the fire, Tes Qua, and the rest of the pack lurking in the shadows. He felt his fingernails bend to the quick and break while he frantically searched for anything within his grasp that he could use as a weapon. The beast’s massive head was within striking distance of his right hand, but he would not relinquish the purchase of soil that was slowing the horrifying cortege to strike at the wolf. Instead, with their eyes locked in an embrace that would not relent, he kicked at the head of the dog with his left foot.
Intent on the kill, the wolf was not making a sound. He was drooling uncontrollably and Tyoga felt his face being slathered with the thick pungent mucous with each kick.
The death drag continued towards the fire and Tes Qua.
Through the din that was most assuredly his dirge, Tyoga began to make out the cries of his companion.
The legend does not say what he was screaming. But when Tes Qua came into view, as if in a dream, Tyoga could see that in his cocked right hand was the glistening blade of the obsidian tomahawk.
“Closer, Ty. Let him drag you closer. Don’t stop him. Don’t stop him.”
Just as Ty relinquished his rake-like grasp of the forest floor, he felt the outline and weight of a jagged granite stone. He secured it in his right hand, and let the procession proceed.
The wolf had taken only three more steps when Tyoga heard the whirl of the spinning tomahawk. As he saw its flight he lifted the stone and pounded it down as hard as he could upon the head of the deadly beast.
The weapons hit simultaneously.
With a chilling, human-like scream of pain, the wolf released his grip on Tyoga’s thigh.
The tomahawk had hit the Commander hard in his left haunch. While its flight was true, its edge was not; but the sting of the impact left its mark. The crushing blow to the wolf’s head had been even more exacting and the wolf spun twice to nuzzle his thigh and shake the pain from his brow.
“Tes Qua’. The fire. Git the fire goin’. Quick.”
“Ty,” Tes Qua shouted. “Your leg.”
Tyoga looked down at his leg. The fangs had torn flesh and muscle, but the puncture wounds had not incised any major vessels. The wounds were not bleeding badly. “It’s okay, Tes. Ain’t bad. Tend the fire. Quick. My spear. Can’t see the spear, Tes. Did ya see where it went, ‘ta?”
“No time, Ty. He’s coming again’.”
Tyoga did not have the time nor strength to get to his feet. Like a crab scurrying to safety, he shuffled backwards towards the ledge while searching with hands and feet for anything to use as a weapon. When the wolf launched a crazed final charge, his hand felt the handle of the tomahawk. With a powerful swing of the weapon, he stemmed the horrific charge with a cutting blow to the wolf’s left foreleg. He heard the sickening thud and muffled crack of bone as the weapon found its mark. With a wimpering scream of indignation, the wolf backed away while limping toward the shadows beyond the fire’s glow.
Tyoga got to his feet and now became the aggressor.
He circled around in front of the retreating beast before he had time to melt into the underbrush, and forced him to back away toward the precipice of the drop-off into the gorge. There was no more ground for him to yield without tumbling to his
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