Casey Blackfox

His face was fierce because of the war paint yet he was silent like his namesake on a hunt. He held a hand up and the men behind him paused. They listened for the signal.
The sound of a bat finding its way in the dark filled the air—their signal. With a loud cry, the men ran out of the woods, barreling to the makeshift cabins and tents scattered in the meadow.
A man screamed as his head was beaten in. The people in the cabins shot their firesticks at the rushing men. The man next to Winter Red Fox went down silently, injured but not dead. His brother led the other group from the sunset side of the encampment.
Winter Red Fox burst through a door and bludgeoned whoever came at him. When no one moved, he ran out of the one-room cabin to the next one. Someone had set a tent on fire, and its orange and red flames reached up in the air. One of the warriors, Foot-maker, ran from building to building with a torch, feeding the flames that filled the sky.
Women were gathered at the edge of the woods, two holding babies. As part of the spoils of war, Winter Red Fox could choose any of these women for his slaves. He had the means to keep a slave, but his wife wouldn’t need one. However, his wife would be happy with one of the children.
Winter Red Fox approached one of the women and held his arms out. The woman screamed and cuddled her baby closer. Two warriors tore the baby from the mother and brought the child to Winter Red Fox.
He undid the bundle. It had no hair. He wondered whether their babies were born male or female. He checked to be sure. If these white people were like them, then this one was a male.
In the firelight, the baby stared up at Winter Red Fox, reaching up to him. Yes, this one would be perfect for his family, even though it was hairless and lily-white.
“Claiming the child?” asked Summer Bear.
“As long as the men are dead.”
“We have their firesticks.”
“They work with magic,” said Winter Red Fox. “Leave them.”
Summer Bear yelled to leave the firesticks, as Winter Red Fox turned from the women. Of course, the mother cried, but that was what happened with war.

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