Black Hills Intro

Black Hills, South Dakota, 203something.
The morning's foggy, the valley filled with the sound of silence. A few birds punctuate the breeze, but not much else can be heard but the swaying of trees. A prairie dog, waking up to face a new day, peeks his head out of his burrow with a few small squeaks. Life's not been much different without people. For him, a day without people is a day without being killed.

But suddenly, he perks up.

Thud-thud-thud-thud...He recognized the sound instantly. The sound of the humans and their horses.

Thud-thud-thud-thud...Pop! More than one human! They're getting closer. And they've brought their boomsticks, too!

The prairie dog ducks his head back into the burrow just before the group thunders overhead, whooping and making their loud noises.

*****

Lieutenant Masayuki Sakamoto clutches his side, shirt stained crimson from a bullet graze. Bullets whiz overhead, past his ear and through his supplies. He doesn't need to turn around- the whoops and yells are enough to tell that they're getting closer. Oddball wheezes from the exertion of the chase, but he's not going fast enough: at any moment, the three scouts will be on them both.

He spurs his horse further. "Hyagh!" he cries, slapping the reins against his neck, kicking his sides. The speed increases, but Masa doubts it's enough. [I]Two miles to Custer,[/I] he thinks to himself, leaning down to his horse. "Come on, boy, we're almost there," he pants, just as more rounds fly over his head and crosses a small hill. Masa hangs right, then guides his pursuers into a thicket of trees.

Oddball struggles with the sudden influx of obstacles, but so do the Sioux: everyone's forced to slow down to avoid hitting trees and rocks. Masa uses this to his advantage, spurring his horse as they begin to approach a rocky incline. Masa grins through his pain, knowing that at any moment, he's home free. The package will be delivered and he'll get the information he needs.

Snap.

Masa hardly has time to react before Oddball rears up on his hind legs, braying and neighing in pain. He feels gravity act from behind him as Oddball begins to lurch backwards. Clumsily, he yanks his feet out of the stirrups and leaps off, flying a few feet before hitting the gravelly incline hard. He feels his revolver exit his hand and fly somewhere unknown. His vision blurs and spins as he rolls down at a breakneck speed, only stopping when he smashes against the writhing Oddball.

Dazed and winded, Masa weakly writhes in place, bolts of pain coursing throughout his body, while rockfall begins to rain down on him from the journey downhill. But he's not dazed enough to be deaf, and he still hears the thundering gallops of other horses. He lunges forward, landing atop Oddball's now limp corpse as he struggles for his weapons. He swears as he picks up the shattered remains of his rifle, then throws them aside. He scrambles to the rear of Oddball's saddle, where, thankfully, his grandfather's sword is still intact.

As the blade leaves the scabbard, the scouts rumble over the hill, rifles raised in the air as they begin circling Masa and Oddball on their horses. Both man and steed are streaked with paint, and all are carrying a hodgepodge of scrap-made weapons. Across their necks are countless stolen dogtags, jangling like sleigh bells as they bounce on their necks. They bare their teeth at Masa, shouting at him in a language he doesn't understand as he brings his sword to bear. They continue circling, like vultures around a dying beast. And then, drawing a wooden club, one of them charges forward.