Chapter 9: War Party
The forest was deathly quiet, and you would not know that a force of three hundred warriors could move through it so swiftly and silently. Leather moccasins hit the ground, almost in unison, as faces painted like demons passed by the trees. The faces were grim and determined – set like stone. Each ear was tuned to the sounds that came from the forest, and the slightest deviation would bring and alert halt to the movement of the party.
Their bodies were hardened by continuous physical exertion, which was normal to the lifestyle of a Chickasaw brave. They would have been an awesome sight had anyone been there to observe them. The idea was for them to go unobserved as they made their way toward the river.
A branch fell from a tree, which brought the party to a halt. They dispersed into the brush, off the trail. They disappeared, and now there was nothing seen but the path. One brave, someone pre-designated, would leave the group and investigate the noise. Once it was determined that it was not a security risk, the “all clear” would be given, and the party would resume its course.
As they neared the river, a signal was given and the party halted. They hid in the foliage along the path. Wolf Eyes left the group and went, alone, toward the shore, to make an observation of what or who might be staking out the river. There might be enemy eyes there. He watched for unusual movements, sounds, or a sense that someone might be there as a concealed sentry. He took pains to blend in with the foliage that lined the bank. He stayed there in camouflage, listening and looking. He could see the far side from his vantage point, observed everything – every leaf that moved. After a while, he saw the Creek sentry. The Creek was off the path, higher up on the hill, well camouflaged himself – well blended in.
Had the sentry seen Wolf Eyes? Wolf Eyes did not think so, because the man was making movements like he was comfortable with his surroundings. He was moving about somewhat and had probably been there for sometime. He definitely had gotten lax with his methods.
Wolf Eyes stayed there and watched him for a long time. He also watched for other eyes, maybe there was more than one. Why was the sentry there? Was he watching the river or the path from Nuktala? Were they planning an attack on Nuktala? The answer might never be known, but the question was all the more reason for a successful raid on the Creeks of the Yellow Leaf.
Time passed, and the day faded into evening. After it became dark, Wolf Eyes slowly moved away from his post and back to his own party. When he reached them, they only talked in low whispers. The wind out of the east would carry any human voice sounds away from the enemy.
He told them of his discovery of the sentry, and that he would take the enemy brave out.
After Wolf Eyes ate a bit of food and drank some water, he left the party and returned to the river. There he waited until the darkness of the night made it impossible to see anything. There was no moon, only starlight.
Along about midnight he slid into the water and swam to the other side. He pulled himself up on the bank and slowly made his way to a vantage point. Then he waited until it was light enough to see his prey. In all of this, he made no sound.
When dawn broke, the birds started singing, as was always the case on spring mornings. The mockingbirds and the finches were filling the air with their melodies. A slight fog came off the river and drifted eastward. The sun had not yet come over the horizon.
Wolf Eyes looked down the slope, toward the river. He was now behind his enemy. The man was unaware of his peril. Wolf Eyes was like a cat ready to spring, watching his prey intently – unblinking like a cat.
He sprang through the air toward his prey, only about twenty feet away. It was too late for the man to get an arrow knocked in his bow, too late for him to react to the noise, for by the time the man turned to see what the noise was, half the distance had been closed. It was too late to scream, for by the time the man saw him, Wolf Eyes had thrown his war club. The man was knocked backward and was unconscious. A second blow with the war club finished the attack.
Wolf Eyes signaled for the party to come across the river, and then he stood there, studying his dead foe for any clues that might answer his questions. The man was wearing war paint and had provisions for several more days. This meant he was probably not expected back soon. Wolf Eyes took his scalp and left him for the vultures. He then went down to the bank of the river to wait for the others.
The war party, some of the braves using the old canoes, made its way across the river. Most of the braves chose to swim. When Proud Cougar reached Wolf Eyes, it was decided that a scouting party be formed. The scouting party, made up of Wolf Eyes, Red Talon and Wounded Eagle, would be sent to reconnoiter in the direction of the Yellow Leaf. Loot wanted to go, but was made to stay behind because of inexperience.
It was midmorning and the sun was warming up the air into a sultry type of day. There was only a slight breeze in the tops of the trees and barely a ripple across the river.
The scouting party had gone out in front of the main war party. They had traveled several miles. Wounded Eagle, in the lead, threw up his hand to halt the scouts when he heard a sound in the water. It was a soft sound that could barely be heard. It was more of a sense that something was there, something on the river. The three scouts took cover behind a giant chestnut tree. They waited, crouched in the roots of that giant tree, for several minutes, while the sounds came closer.
Canoes appeared through the leaves of the bushes that lined the river. In the canoes were Creek warriors with their faces painted – ready for battle. Wolf Eyes sent Red Talon back to their war party to tell them to take cover and get ready for an ambush. Red Talon made his way before the Creek war party got close enough to see him leave.
Wolf Eyes and Wounded Eagle watched the canoes pass silently on the river. There were ten canoes with four warriors in each of them. They were armed with bows and war clubs. Were they headed toward Nuktala? Was it payback for the rescue of the captives of Nunnimingo? These were all questions that would probably never be answered. War between the two tribes had been going on for eons. War was a natural state of being, and there had never been a time of peace. It was the law of the survival of the strongest that so often occurs in nature.
Wolf Eyes and Wounded Eagle stayed crouched in the roots of the Chestnut tree and kept an eye on the river. They talked in sign language as they watched a hawk circle overhead.
“The hawk fishes the river,” said Wounded Eagle.
“The river is full of quarry,” said Wolf Eyes.
“The Creeks are very active, they may be on heavy guard.”
“We will proceed with caution,” said Wolf Eyes.
“When we get to the Black Water, we will leave the river.”
“Agreed,” said Wolf Eyes.
Down the river, as the Creek warriors rounded a bend, they saw a single canoe paddled by two braves. The braves were members of the Chickasaw war party. They were paddling away from the Creeks and acting like they were unaware of the war canoes coming up behind them. The Creeks pointed at them and paddled quickly to overtake the non-suspecting two.
They failed to see any of the Chickasaw war party that was taking cover in the bushes on the nearby riverbank. The ambush was set and triggered, when Proud Cougar gave his war cry. Out of the bushes came a volley of arrows.
The only defense that the Creeks had was to turn over their canoes and swim away underwater, trying to avoid the arrows. Some of them did not get the chance to swim, and only one made it to the other shore.
Proud Cougar called the name of a young brave, “Iskunosi Okfincha (Little Mink), “go chase the offender,” pointing to the escapee climbing out on the other bank.
Little Mink dove into the river, swimming across in hot pursuit of his prey. It was not long before he was seen climbing out of the water and going into the bush on the other side of the river. He would not quit the chase until he faced his enemy in battle.
It was bad that one had escaped. If he made it back to the village of the Ye
llow Leaf, he could warn them of the Chickasaw war party. For this reason, now they set the pace to a half run, toward the village of the Yellow Leaf.
The party soon caught up with Wolf Eyes and Wounded Eagle at the chestnut tree. They moved ahead with caution, as forward scouts. They took great pains to be elusive. The rest of the war party followed at a distance, with stealth.
Little Mink had found the trail of the object of his pursuit. The man was in a hurry and did not bother to cover his tracks. He was headed up into the hills, but Little Mink knew this was only a ploy and that he would eventually return to the river. Little Mink hurried on, but always kept to the river side of the arched path being made by his prey.
He realized that the man’s route over the hill would him take him into the valley on the next side, so Little Mink returned to the river. He went to the trough made by this hill and the next – a valley that drained its waters into the river. He found a good spot where he could observe the floor of the valley and waited. It was like hunting deer, as swift as they were, one could never catch them. But if you knew where they were going to circle, you could cut them off.
From his vantage he could see the streambed that ran down the center of the valley. This part of the forest had not been burnt off, so it had brambles and obstacles to avoid if one was to travel through it. His prey was bound to make noise as he ran, so Little Mink listened for these sounds.
As Little Mink peered out of his camouflaged spot, his black eyes looked like hardened jewels. His face was ruddy and weather beaten – painted with the war paint of the Bear Clan; red and black sweeping from the eyes and forehead, back to the ears. His cheek had a scar from a previous encounter that badly disfigured his face.
They had been at battle with the Creeks on his first war party. He, as a young brave, had been hit with a hatchet. The blow was partially blocked by his left forearm, or it would have caused his death. He had finished his enemy, that time, with his hunting knife by wielding an uppercut gouge to the man’s lower chest. It went up under the ribs and up into his victim's lung. He had been in many fights since that time and was now a seasoned veteran.
It was not long before the man came down the stream in a hurry. Little Mink had shortened the distance between them and now had his prey in sight. The chase was on, as Little Mink left his vantage point and was in hot pursuit.
The man was in sight now, but was a good runner. He had shed most of his weapons. All Little Mink could see was a knife. The man was naked from his waist up and well tattooed, meaning that he was a warrior of some prominence. Below the waist, he was clad only with a breechcloth and high moccasins.
Little Mink was armed with a spear, throwing stick and his war club. He had left his bow and quiver with his friend, Smiling Lion (Ayukpa Koi Ishto), at the river. He was running as hard as he could, and now his enemy knew that he was there. The man ran for his life. Little Mink could out last him, but he had to catch him before he got to the village.
The sun was high in the mid-day sky. Little Mink was picking up the pace, as he sensed that the Creek was tiring. He could see the sun glistening off of the sweat on the man’s back. The sweat ran off Little Mink also, as both men’s face contorted and grimaced from the strenuousness of the race. The gap began to close.
Little Mink had chased the Creek for miles. Both men now could hear the footsteps and the breathing of the other. The enemy’s legs were weakening, and he began to stumble. Little Mink could feel the tiredness in his own legs, and his lungs burned, and he drank in air like it was water.
He was now in striking distance. He pulled his spear from its leather tie on his back. He positioned it and threw it from a dead run. The spear flew with its point in an upward slope, but the point did not hit home. Instead, the shaft of the spear glanced off of the enemy’s right shoulder and hit on the path in front of him.
His enemy stopped and got the spear, and now Little Mink only had his war club. The distance now closed very quickly between the two men. They each let out a blood chilling war cry as they charged each other.
Sentries of the Creek village heard the cry. They were some distance away, but came to investigate the fight. Cautiously, they came upon the scene. They found both men lying ten feet apart in the path. The Creek who they knew as Snow Wolf was lying in his own blood. A massive head wound had been his end, the war club lying at his feet.
Little Mink, whom they only knew as an enemy, had a spear in his side. He was still moaning, and they watched him die. They looked at each other and pointed toward the village. They left the scene in great haste.