The Challenge
I've been challenged by my good friend 
ABOUT
It would be a terrible travesty if I didn't take this time to give
The reason, I've ultimately accepted his challenge is because, it's his opinion that I value and trust more than any other individual I've met on the platform. So without further ado here goes the monster he has created. Cheers Dude!
Wild West Fireworks - Challenge Edition
Mary-Jane remembers the last attack like it was yesterday. Her husband, Mike was severely injured; and she caught shrapnel in her eye. This was the Wild West for a reason! They managed to fight off the savage Indians - but at a cost! Mike died a few days later and she had lost her eye.
Mary-Jane refused to leave the land which she and Mike worked so hard to acquire; but now she was all alone.
She knew they would come back; and they were! She could hear the pseudo bird calls. “Come you bastards, mama has a little surprise for you!” she whispered to herself. With her binoculars, she scanned the outskirts of her land from her hideout on a nearby hill. A smile started to break on here her face, as five Indian braves approached one of the markers she had placed. She was about to send a loud and clear message that her property was rigged with dynamite. Her palms were clammy and shaky as they hit the marker. She lit the fuse and waited for the fireworks...
The explosion sent debris flying at break neck speed for huge distances in every direction; instantly killing the five at its detonation point, injuring scores more unsuspecting would be attackers. Dozens more scrambled from their hiding places and scampered off into the distance like dogs. But one didn’t...
Morning Eagle, feared nothing and no-one; he had led this attack and was prepared to die, if needs be. He appeared from behind the tree where he had witnessed the drama unfold. He walked to the point where his five deceased braves lay slain, unfazed by any further threats. He moved from brave to brave where he performed a brief blessing before moving to the next.
Mary-Jane watched this from her position, half admiring his bravery and his bare-chested copper skin stretched over his muscular physique. His black slick hair flowing freely from below the geometrically paint leather band across his brow. She was lulled in to a moment of complacency, and still reveling in her moment of glory; but all this was about to change.
Up to this point he had not paid any attention to her. After finishing the rites on the last of his fallen comrades, while still in a crouched position he looked straight in her direction without flinching. He gazed in her direction for a full minute before rising to his feet. She now knew all this time he had been testing her. She now knew he knew that she was operating alone. He also knew exactly where she was. He had observed where the fuse had been lit and followed its path from the rocky outcrop on the hill where she was tucked away. He started a brisk walk to towards her position. Mary-Jane, started to shake uncontrollably, this was not the script she had in her head. She had intended to send out a clear message and expected them all to scatter like cowardly buffoons; and they all did except for Morning Eagle. He was clearly in a class of his own, completely fearless.
Her back up plans weren’t great; she had a Sharps single shot rifle and a hunting knife. By following the direct path of the fuse she had lit, Morning Eagle figured he would miss any further dynamite surprises. He was correct. He increased his pace to a steady canter. Mary-Jane rose to her feet picked up her rifle and kept it focused on her target. There were a number of reasons why this was going to be an extremely difficult shot; the upward slope toward her was uneven, the breeze was happed-hazardly brisk, Morning Eagle moved in a zig-zagged path toward her and she had a single shot before she had to reload; but most unnerving was her inability to steady her quivering body.
She did the math in her head; the rifle had an effective accuracy range of 500 yards and possibility of eight to ten shots per minute; however her personal best in practice was 80% accuracy at 350 yards and 5 reloads per minute. How she rued not making the most of those practice sessions. Yet, these weren’t ideal conditions, she couldn’t afford to shoot at the fringes of her ability, she needed better odds. She estimated that at 250 yards she would have the best odds. Though her math had been accurate her judgement would prove a failure.
As her foe approached her estimated 250 yards, she warned, “Stay back or I’ll shoot!” undaunted he kept coming. What she had failed to take into account was the amount of natural cover the terrain provided her opponent, at that distance, making the shot that much more difficult. He would blend in and out of the landscape sending Mary-Jane into a state of deep panic. She frantically moved her rifle to and fro trying to anticipate where he would emerge from, next. It was around 180 yards where she had a brief window of opportunity. Mary-Jane squeezed the trigger and released the shot which she was pressured into. She missed narrowly, but it was a miss.
This was the moment the shrewd Morning Eagle had been waiting for. His muscular body sprung into to life. She saw how each muscle fiber sharpened as he lept in action, covering the terrain with speed and dexterity of a mountain lion. This display of power and speed sent her into a trance-like state which momentarily caused her to freeze. Within seconds reality kicked in and she fumbled on the ground for another cartridge and reloaded in record time, but it was not quick enough...
The determined hunter covered the distance in the 20 seconds she had allowed; and now she stood confronted by her foe, holding the barrel of her rifle in his hand. He released an ear-piercing guttural roar displaying his level of dominance, frustration and irritation at this woman that had caused him so much agitation; which sent his victim cowering to the ground. She refused to look at her attacker, just wanting it to be over quickly. Many moments had passed and nothing happened. A few more moments passed before she dared to look. If he wanted to kill her, it would have happened already. She saw Morning Eagle admiring his newly acquired rifle, hunting knife and binoculars. His disposition had lightened and eyes gentle.
He was a brave fearsome warrior, but had wisdom to match; he would probably be chief of his tribe in a few years. He wasn’t going to tarnish his reputation by adding a helpless woman to his distinguished list of conquests, who he viewed as inferior in any event; as he had just proven. Mary-Jane was starting to find new ways to admire about her captor; he was brave, handsome, and athletic. Yet it was his restraint in abusing his power that she found most admirable; it went against the narrative she was led to believe. She remembered an excerpt from Father MacDougal’s, her parish priest’s, sermon - “Them Indians are nothing but barbaric, savage pagans.”
He waited until he sensed she had calmed down and relaxed sufficiently and understood that he would not cause her any harm. He turned and walked for about 20 yards and then waited for her to follow...
Initially she hesitated, but having considered that he had just spared here life, her admiration for her capturer; the fact that she had no other options left and now that she was all alone in the world, she relented. Her final barrier was overcoming Father MacDougal’s words ringing in her head; it called for a massive defiance of her faith and belief system. Screw it she thought, this man just spared my life and even if he is the devil himself, I’m ready to sign a deal, any deal!
She composed herself, took a deep breath, stepped out of the hide out and followed Morning Eagle down the hill into her new life...
