The War Summer’s Soul Warrior
The Second Choice?
“WHO ARE YOU!?” Adekagagwaa screamed, covering he ears. “WHAT ARE WE!?” he gestured wildly around.
Do you really want to know?
Adekagagwaa stopped in his tracks. Did he? Why didn’t he continue his rant?
. . . Because he trusted his gut.
Three shrouded figures appeared approximately twenty feet from where the tribe and Blondie—used—to be standing. Little fucker fled. They were in a trio, one in front, the boldest, proudest; and then two behind. They seemed to be broodier, like they needed to be welcomed by royalty, treated like royalty.
Adekagagwaa liked the leader of the trio better already.
A chuckle came from the leader, and scowls adorned the others’ faces. “Good choice, Adekagagwaa.” The woman paused. “You said you wanted to know who we are . . . how about you tell us what you are first.”
“What if we don’t know?” he bit off.
“We? I asked for you.”
Adekagagwaa remained silent. Or, until Koda squeezed his hand and whispered in his ear.
Adekagagwaa stood there, stunned. He didn’t even realise Koda had let go of his hand and stepped away.
An eager boy sat on a log, glowing in the firelight. He wasn’t alone. There were several other small children there, enjoying the tale—so far.
A twelve-year-old girl and boy stood before the kids. They were telling stories of their tribe’s past.
Until now.
The tales turned ugly. They turned from happy, fluffy campfire stories to what kids tell of today. Haunted forests, Ghosts roaming around aimlessly, other tribes attacking theirs . . .
The only difference was that their tales were true.
The eager boy was mortified.
The twelve-year-olds looked haunted as they told us to always remember. Always remember that we aren’t the top species. Always remember that there will always be something out that’s older, better, faster and stronger than you. And to always rebel against those supernatural things.
But what they didn’t know was that—
Adekagagwaa was roughly yanked out of his dream by the naïve son of a bitch who had succeeded to get under everyone’s skin.
“Get out of it man!”
He didn’t even register it. Adekagagwaa was too numb. “We didn’t even know . . .”
He was in a daze as he walked up to the trio’s leader. Fortunately, he had the minimal sense and dignity to try to stand up straight and sharpen his eyes.
Of course he failed.
“We didn’t even know . . . we didn’t KNOW! We didn’t even know . . .” he paused, breathing heavily. “We didn’t even know we’d become our own enemy. I—we’re Soul Warriors.”
“Ah, of course young one.” The trio leader said. “But I asked for you. It’s impressive that you can put yourself to the back of your mind and promote others.”
“Good to know not all of them are dumbasses.” The second, snarky one served up. The third one had yet to speak.
“Shut up, Nîmi.”
It all clicked for Adekagagwaa then. A landslide of information pummelled him. The way he had acted so stupidly in front of Mekiwin, Nîmi and Pimâtisiw disgusted him. How had he not known?
“Why are—what’s the difference?” Adekagagwaa mumbled.
Pimâtisiw chuckled. “Soul Warriors made the choice. They chose to be nothing like the other Warriors and protect their tribes. But, there’s a catch.”
“Of course.” Adekagagwaa snapped.
“During the next twenty-four hours, you have the choice to take back your choice. You could choose to go back to the real Warrior lifestyle—in which you tribe members will probably never let you,” Pimâtisiw said, facing the crowd.
Welcome to the War Summer.
Do you really want to know?
Adekagagwaa stopped in his tracks. Did he? Why didn’t he continue his rant?
. . . Because he trusted his gut.
Three shrouded figures appeared approximately twenty feet from where the tribe and Blondie—used—to be standing. Little fucker fled. They were in a trio, one in front, the boldest, proudest; and then two behind. They seemed to be broodier, like they needed to be welcomed by royalty, treated like royalty.
Adekagagwaa liked the leader of the trio better already.
A chuckle came from the leader, and scowls adorned the others’ faces. “Good choice, Adekagagwaa.” The woman paused. “You said you wanted to know who we are . . . how about you tell us what you are first.”
“What if we don’t know?” he bit off.
“We? I asked for you.”
Adekagagwaa remained silent. Or, until Koda squeezed his hand and whispered in his ear.
Adekagagwaa stood there, stunned. He didn’t even realise Koda had let go of his hand and stepped away.
An eager boy sat on a log, glowing in the firelight. He wasn’t alone. There were several other small children there, enjoying the tale—so far.
A twelve-year-old girl and boy stood before the kids. They were telling stories of their tribe’s past.
Until now.
The tales turned ugly. They turned from happy, fluffy campfire stories to what kids tell of today. Haunted forests, Ghosts roaming around aimlessly, other tribes attacking theirs . . .
The only difference was that their tales were true.
The eager boy was mortified.
The twelve-year-olds looked haunted as they told us to always remember. Always remember that we aren’t the top species. Always remember that there will always be something out that’s older, better, faster and stronger than you. And to always rebel against those supernatural things.
But what they didn’t know was that—
Adekagagwaa was roughly yanked out of his dream by the naïve son of a bitch who had succeeded to get under everyone’s skin.
“Get out of it man!”
He didn’t even register it. Adekagagwaa was too numb. “We didn’t even know . . .”
He was in a daze as he walked up to the trio’s leader. Fortunately, he had the minimal sense and dignity to try to stand up straight and sharpen his eyes.
Of course he failed.
“We didn’t even know . . . we didn’t KNOW! We didn’t even know . . .” he paused, breathing heavily. “We didn’t even know we’d become our own enemy. I—we’re Soul Warriors.”
“Ah, of course young one.” The trio leader said. “But I asked for you. It’s impressive that you can put yourself to the back of your mind and promote others.”
“Good to know not all of them are dumbasses.” The second, snarky one served up. The third one had yet to speak.
“Shut up, Nîmi.”
It all clicked for Adekagagwaa then. A landslide of information pummelled him. The way he had acted so stupidly in front of Mekiwin, Nîmi and Pimâtisiw disgusted him. How had he not known?
“Why are—what’s the difference?” Adekagagwaa mumbled.
Pimâtisiw chuckled. “Soul Warriors made the choice. They chose to be nothing like the other Warriors and protect their tribes. But, there’s a catch.”
“Of course.” Adekagagwaa snapped.
“During the next twenty-four hours, you have the choice to take back your choice. You could choose to go back to the real Warrior lifestyle—in which you tribe members will probably never let you,” Pimâtisiw said, facing the crowd.
Welcome to the War Summer.