Shadows in the Glade

Talanka was lost. Had, in fact, been lost since the day of the great battle. His band of Osage warriors led the charge that broke the lines of the Missouri that had pushed them back over the river that bore their name. In a mad blood lust he and several others chased the retreating Missouri into the wooded hills and slaughtered as many as they could. As the sun began to set that day Talanka chased a young Missouri warrior down a narrow trail. A trail that his prey obviously knew better than him. The day light vanished and Talanka ran headlong into a thick branch that hung low over the trail, knocking him unconscious.



How long he laid there he did not know, but he has wandered these woods for days with no sign of man. He fed on lizards and squirrels using his flint dagger to make traps from small twigs. As the days went by he got more desperate, feeling like a doomed soul to wander the earth for eternity. He began to go mad, speaking to himself as he walked, later he began answering himself.



He was unaware of his madness until he made camp in a glade of great pine trees one night. He lay on his back muttering to himself and looking at the stars, when he sensed something watching him. He rolled over onto his side and slowly slid the dagger out of his deer skin belt and laid waiting. Whatever it was was content to keep its distance and watch. Talanka laid still for what seemed like an eternity. Slowly, he sensed, his stalker lost interest and moved on.



Talanka woke before the sun after a few hours of restless sleep. He muttered to himself that he was crazy, there was nothing there. He reasoned to himself that it was just his nerves. Then he screamed at himself that it is not his nerves that something watched him last night.



As the sun cracked the horizon he talked himself into walking over to where he thought his watcher stood. His eyes roved the loam, looking for any hint of what stood there. His eyes froze in terror at the only sign it left. It looked like a bare human foot, only twice as large. He cautiously placed his moccasined foot inside the print. His mouth dropped in awe. He backed away slowly eyeing the woods beyond, expecting the giant to leap out at any moment. When he felt he was far enough away he turned and ran through the woods, leaping over dead trees. He ran through the hills and valleys. On and on he ran until, hours later, he came across a small stream. He plopped down near the bank and dunked his head in the water. He yanked it out with a spray of water flying from his black hair. Suddenly he sensed it again. Somewhere along the tree line there where eyes burning into him.



He scanned the tree line looking for any sign of the giant. His eyes rested on what, at first glance, seemed like a smaller pine tree. He guessed it to be about two heads taller than him. There was something odd about the tree. It was oddly shaped and really did not resemble any tree he had ever seen except its pointed top. He was about to look away when the tree moved. It was a very slight movement. With no breeze rustling through the forest the top of the tree tilted sideways. Talanka's heart froze as he stared at the thing that lurked in the shadows of the forest.



Talanka decided to act like he saw nothing and slowly stood up and started to walk up the hill, away from the strange tree. He worked his way up through thick undergrowth and fallen timber. A few times he almost slid back down the hill as his foot slipped on loose gravel. When he finally crested the hill he looked back. He saw nothing unusual and turned to walk down the other side when a sound split the air that caused his heart to stop. It was a deep roar that was bestial and human at the same time. The roar came from where he just was at the base of the hill. He started scrambling down the hill away from his pursuer, when another sound froze him in his tracks. It was a roar like the first, but this one was in front of him. He stopped his descent and ran along the creek, trying to outflank them.



They followed alongside of him. They herded him toward some unknown destination as the sun sank. He burst through the forest into a clearing. On the other side was the same glade he was at the night before. He ran through the clearing, eyes on the glade. He was trying to reach the tree line before his pursuers could catch him in the open. The tall grass whispered to him as he ran through it. He ran with the grace of a gazelle, bobbing up and down as he ran. He went up and down, and then he was gone. He fell into a small rocky ditch. His head slammed down on a rack and all went black.



When he woke up the sun was high up in the sky. The gash on his head was dressed with moss and mud, and he was propped up against one of the taller pines in the glade. He looked around to see if anyone was there. The only hint of passage was a rather large hand print in the mud next to the tree. Talanka stood, woozily. As he did he felt eyes on him again. He started to walk away from the direction of the eyes when the roar sounded from his right and the shortly after from his left. They herded him all day that way. By night fall he heard the sounds of rushing water. He came to a familiar shore, the Missouri river. He was on the border of his tribal lands. Feeling no eyes on him he set to making snares to catch a rabbit for he had not eaten in days. With traps set he went off to find a place to sleep. Making a bed out of pine branches he laid and slept soundly through the night, exhausted.



Talanka rose as the sun did and checked his snares. All had been destroyed. He threw the last one from him in disgust and turned away. He froze, less than a hundred strides away stood a beast he had only heard of in legend. It was two heads taller than him, had a pointed head, brutish shoulders, long strong arms, and everything was coated in thick brown fur. It opened its mouth, showing flat yellow teeth and pointed at him.



Madness gripped Talanka; he pulled his flint dagger from his belt and rushed at the beast. Preferring death over being hunted anymore, he attacked the giant, stabbing it over and over. The sight of red blood drove him on, knowing that if it bled it could die. It did not struggle; rather it moaned and cried in pain. Then it was gone. It fell from him, in a pool of its own blood.



Talanka fell to his knees in a mixture of relief and exhaustion. He breathed deep, calming his shattered nerves. He held his breath; he heard a twig snap behind him. He turned in time to see a giant hairy first slam into his face.



He awoke back in his own village and listened to the tale about his return. Apparently the legendary Sasquatch carried him into the village last night and dropped him in front of the shaman. The shaman understood his language and the tale he told of finding Talanka lost in the woods. The Sasquatch had recognized him as an Osage, and they were forever protectors of the tribe. He and his mate had tried to guide him home, but he slew his mate. The Sasquatch then cursed the Osage and said a new greater tribe will come and take their lands. And he would watch it all from the shadows of the glade.