For a time the
brothers knew peace. It was the peace that only one that lives without danger
and with enough distance from his family that they might visit but not happen
upon him can know. For a time solitude and peace brought with them happiness.
That time was less than a week.
U’tana’ had
watched the brothers argue from the top of a hill. He understood their language
but was unable to hear the word from the ground on which he stood. When the
soft men parted ways U’tana’ sent scouts to follow the two that departed the
area. Then he gathered the surviving warriors of his tribe. The land, their
women, and their brothers that had gone to the happy hunting grounds would be
avenged.
U’tana’ led his
band first to the north. Rage filled his heart when his eyes landed upon the
mockery of his people that was the hut of the eldest brother Porc. It was only
due to the respect the other braves held for him that he was able to still them
before they fell upon the hut too early. U’tana’ made his way to the door of
the hut and rapped upon it. The eldest of the soft men called from inside.
“Who comes to my
home uninvited?”
U’tana was ready
for such a response. He knew more of the ways these men held than they did of
his people. He replied in a voice that was strong and proud. He spoke for his
people.
“Little pig,
little pig, let me in.”
“Not by the hair
of my chinny-chin-chin.” Came the reply from inside.
“Then I shall
huff, and I shall puff, and I shall blow your house in.” U’tana’ informed the
soft man in challenge.
U’tana’ let his
tribe do as they wished. The dwelling was shredded with ease. U’tana’ stepped
through the wreckage and took his revenge with blade and might. He left the
body in the sun as a warning to those that would dare defile his people in the
future.
The band rode
south. It was a day’s ride between the two homesteads. When they arrived anger
still filled the braves. The man they sought was on their land, his brother had
chosen to mock them and while this one did not he had tarried here; his people
had brought disease and death to the tribe and the land. Still they might have
been convinced to show mercy. Then they saw the stumps of the trees that had
been used to construct the home, the sacred trees. Mercy left their hearts.
They were warriors.
Again U’tana’
knocked upon the door to the home. The cabin was of sturdier make than the
first and yet it was weak and the man was alone. Once more the man spoke as
U’tana’ expected of him.
“Who comes to my
home uninvited?”
Once again
U’tana’ spoke the traditional phrase for Porc’s people.
“Little pig,
little pig, let me in.”
“Not by the hair
of my chinny-chin-chin.” The words, it seemed, ran in the family.
“Then I shall
huff, and I shall puff, and I shall blow your house in.” U’tana’ cried out with
rage and pain.
U’tana’ had shed
the life’s blood of one enemy. He allowed the other warriors to do their will
unto this one. At his signal flaming arrows were loosed upon the wood from
which the cabin was constructed. The structure caught with ease and avenging
smoke filled the air while purifying flames lit the land. The tribe was patient
and required surety. It was not until the squeals and screams of the middle
brother ceased filling the air that they moved south once more.
There would be
no mercy for the youngest brother. The warriors knew that these soft men were
no different than the others that came before them. Respect and compassion were
absent from the hearts of the Porcs. The decimated tribe saw the fortress of
stone in the style that cavalry soldiers built before going to war with the
natives and they knew that the soft pink men intended no mercy for them either.
Still they would not cease. They knew no fear and their cause was just,
righteous. They had come too far to fail. What they were unable to see were the
soldiers that had gathered at Pierre’s request.
The warriors
dismounted and followed U’tana’ to the gate of the keep. U’tana’ pounded upon
the larger door. He was greeted from inside, the youngest brother also the
boldest though he could see those outside.
“Who comes to my
home uninvited?”
U’tana’ raised
his voice to the sky to be heard by the man within. He cried for his people.
“Little pig,
little pig, let me in.”
“Not by the hair
of my chinny-chin-chin.” There was a taunting laugh to the words.
“Then I shall
huff, and I shall puff, and I shall blow your house in.” U’tana’ responded in a
shout. This last time would bring peace.
The braves
stormed the keep. Some climbed the stones of the wall but only attained half
the height of the structure. Others flew in rage at the door, the weakest point
of the fortress, attacking wood with their blades. There was commotion inside
and at first it seemed the inhabitants were afraid.
Then the doors
flew open. The soldiers flowed out with swords and rifles in hand. They bent to
the attack with joy that all of the soft pink men seemed to share for
slaughter.
The warriors on
the wall dropped into the fray. Soft men fell and died, others were injured to
a point that they would no longer be of service. The tribe was outnumbered.
Their weapons were strong but no match for those of the soldiers. U’tana’ and
his brothers gave it their all, bringing a good fight to the invaders but in
the end they were slaughtered. To a man they died with their eyes to the sky.
They perished knowing that the remaining soldiers would kill the women,
children and elders without compassion to put an end to what had happened here.
U’tana’ passed
from this life knowing that he had done what was right. He died knowing that he
had failed, that he would be vilified by the soft men. His field of vision was
eclipsed in his last moments by the body of Pierre Porc. That man held a torch
that he used to set the ground around U’tana’ aflame. That was not enough.
Pierre put his torch to U’tana’s clothing before jabbing the burning end
against U’tana’s skin.
The warrior
smelled his flesh burning away. U’tana’ never cried out with the pain. He was
stronger than the Porcs and he would not give his murderer the satisfaction. He
died a warrior as did those that had followed him.
The area was
cleared and the ground stained red with the blood of heroes. The soft pink men
had their way. The savages were removed by whatever means necessary.
And the land
wept.
#dark #politicalcommentary #shortstory #fairytale #nativeamerican
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