Apocalypsis 01 - Kahayatle

because he had an arrow pointed at my heart and his fingers looked like they were itching to let it fly.
    “This is Miccosukee land.   You’re trespassing.   We don’t want you here.”
    I don’t know what possessed me to speak, but once the words were out it was too late and useless to regret them.   “Not anymore it’s not.”
    He sneered at me.   “We claim all of the Kahayatle for our own.   You think you can take it away from us?”
    I raised an eyebrow.   “Kaha- what?   Who’s us?   I don’t know what the hell you just said, but all I see standing here is you.”
    “Then you see like all the other white men who came before you.   Not very well.”
    My hackles rose and my eyes darted around, looking for others.   I couldn’t see anyone but the guy in front of me, so I figured he was bluffing.   I took one step forward, working to adjust my footing so I was better-balanced and in a position to immobilize him, should he decide to get frisky.   He didn’t move, so we were just two feet away from each other now.
    He lifted his bow a little bit higher and pulled the arrow back farther.   “Don’t move or I will kill you.”   He was aiming for a face shot now.
    “Not today, you won’t,” I said softly.   A split second later I slashed my arm out towards him, knocking his bow to the side, while simultaneously leaning over to protect myself from any flying arrows.   His now un-notched weapon, loosened by my fist’s impact, fell to the ground and wedged its lethal end in the roots at our feet.  
    I heard the slick, deadly soft sound of a knife leaving its sheath and quickly brought my other forearm across in a flattened arch, connecting with his wrist with enough force to send the weapon flying from his hand.   I caught a quick flash of it out of the corner of my eye, noticing that its blade was a nasty one, meant for skinning animals and sawing through tendon and bone.   A spasm of relief that I hadn’t been gutted by that thing skittered across my brain as I continued to exercise the well-practiced motions I had often used to bring a man who out-weighed me by fifty pounds down to my level on the practice mat.
    I swept my foot low and backwards, taking him out by the ankles, ending the move by slamming myself down on top of him with one foot at his throat.   I leaned back, grabbing his leg and pulling it up to keep him from hooking me with it.   I could feel his body tense up beneath me, as he got ready to try and throw me off.
    “I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” I warned.   I pushed my foot up into his chin harder, making it painfully clear that my intentions were serious and that my final move would be even worse for him than my earlier ones had already been.
    “Fine!” he grunted out through gritted teeth.   “I give.”
    Buster got loose from Peter’s arms and ran over to start licking the guy’s face, taking a few precious seconds in between licks to bark at all of us in excitement.
    I ignored the rest of the dog’s performance and looked up briefly at Bodo who was standing there and staring at us on the ground, as if in a trance.  
    “Check him for weapons, Bodo.”   I waited for him to obey, not moving my foot an inch.
    Bodo came over and bent down, touching the guy’s body all over and pulling out another small knife from a strap around his ankle, hidden under his pants.  
    “I can’t check da back of him.   You haff to get off.”
    I grabbed onto Bodo’s forearm and pulled myself up, hopping on one foot a couple times until I could get my other one under me.   I reached down and grabbed the indian kid by his vest, hauling him roughly to his feet and spinning him around once he was upright.   He lifted his arm up and I tensed, ready to take him down again, until I realized he was just wiping the dog slobber off his face.
    “Check him now,” I said, angrily, pissed that this guy had made me do this to him.   It just felt wrong to take out an indian on his own land like that.   I hadn’t really meant it earlier when I’d said it wasn’t his.   Who the hell am I to decide whose land is whose?
    “He’s got nothing.”
    I turned him around and released him, stepping back to give him some space.   I saw him look on the ground towards his fallen bow.
    “Don’t even think about it, Mikko.”
    His head jerked back up.   “What’d you call me?”
    “Mikko.   Miccosukee, right?”
    His eyes narrowed at me.
    I raised an eyebrow at him in