Little Wolf's Victory (Hon. Mention)

“Dance, I told you, you red devil!” Judd fired a bullet at the feet of Little Wolf, who never flinched.  A rope was cinched tightly around his neck, and his hands were tied behind his back.  His face remained impassive.

Judd’s whiskered face flushed crimson, and he stalked toward the young Lakota brave.  Grabbing the noose, Judd yanked him up against his chest. The alcohol stench from his breath almost made Little Wolf gag, but he refused to react.  The wasichu wanted Little Wolf to fear him, to beg for his life.  That would not happen. 

He would rather journey to the Happy Hunting Grounds this day, than give the squaw that victory. 

Judd jeered, spittle spraying Little Wolf’s face.  “Well, if’n you won’t entertain me, I might as well finish it.”  Judd smooshed his gun up against Little Wolf’s nose. 

“I would not do that, Squaw.” Little Wolf spoke his first words.  Surprised, Judd stepped back and released him.

“WooWee, the little runt can talk, perfect English too.” Judd grinned, pushing his hat up with the barrel of his gun. “Now, do tell me why not.”

Little Wolf nodded toward the rocky outcrop behind Judd’s shoulder.  He smiled as Judd turned and lost what little color the pale face had had. 

A line of Lakota braves with arrows notched and ready stood staring down at the two.  With the sun creating a halo around the party and the wind lifting their hair, they were a fiercesome sight.  The one in the center wore a full war bonnet and held a cocked Winchester. 

Little Wolf nodded toward the chief, and said, “Squaw, say hello to my father, Chief Crazy Bear.” He smiled when Judd let out a little squeak.  “You might want to untie me now.” 



Word Count = 296



Submitted for

Daily Flash Fiction Challenge  (13+) Enter your story of 300 words or less. #896794 by Arakun the Twisted Raccoon

Word Count Limit 300 using dance, rock, and nose.