Blood Red Road

unnerfoot. I move careful, tryin not to make any sound. Nero comes down to see what I’m doin. He hops an flaps from rock to rock, always stayin ahead of me. I hold my finger to my lips so’s he knows not to squawk or caw.
    I reach the top. Check that Pinch ain’t in sight. Pull myself up. I’m on top of a flat Hoodoo. There’s drag marks in the dirt from his leg. He couldn’t of got far. He’ll be in a lotta pain.
    I slide my bow offa my back. Fit a arrow to the strings. Then I start to follow the drag marks. They stop at the edge of my flat Hoodoo.
    I send Nero up into the air. Almost right away, he starts circlin. He’s found Pinch. Looks like he’s on the next Hoodoo to this one. It goes straight up, like a jagged chimley.
    He must be on the far side of it.
    There’s a little gap between the Hoodoos. Maybe two foot. Only a small bit of flat rock to land on, then a narrow ledge goes off to the left an disappears around the corner.
    He could be right around that corner. He’s got his bolt shooter. But he’s injured. He’s weak. Maybe even dyin.
    The devil ain’t so easy to kill .
    I look at Nero, still circlin above. He seems calm enough. I jump over the gap an land lightly. I’m on the Hoodoo with Pinch.
    My breath’s tight in my throat. I flatten my back aginst the rock. Then I start to sidle along the ledge. To inch my way around the corner.
    Be ready .
    I move slowly. Feel ahead with with my right foot. I don’t make a sound. I only got a chance if I take him by surprise.
    Be ready .
    The ledge starts to widen out. Wider. Wider. I’m turnin the corner.
    Now.
    I move fast. My bow at the ready.
    I take it in at a glance.
    I’m on a wide ledge on the side of the Hoodoo. Pinch is sittin on a rock, restin his leg.
    He looks up, startled. He reaches fer his bolt shooter.
    I let fly with my arrow. It glances offa his hand.
    He yells out but keeps goin fer the shooter.
    No time to reload my bow.
    I dive at him. Knock him offa the rock.
    Somehow he’s managed to git hold of his shooter. He tries to jam it unner my chin. We struggle an I knock it outta his hand.
    He gits his fist unner my chin. Pushes up into the soft bit.
    I cain’t breathe. He’s pressin on my windpipe. I grab his hand with both of mine. Try to pull it away. I kick an squirm.
    But he’s stronger’n I ever imagined.
    The rank stink of his breath, his sweat, fills my nostrils.
    No escape this time, he says.
    I claw at his robes. Then I claw his burnt face.
    He shrieks an rolls offa me.
    I dive at my bow. I dropped my quiver when I jumped Pinch an my arrows is scattered all over. I scrabble around on my hands an knees, reachin fer one.
    But Pinch is on his feet. Holdin his bolt shooter with both hands. Aimin it right at me.
    I scuttle as far away from him as I can. Press myself aginst the rock.
    Pinch comes towards me. His face bleedin where I clawed him. He’s a terrible mess. Blood an burnt flesh an flaky gold paint.
    Somethin sharp’s cuttin into my hand. I’m clutchin somethin in my hand. A little bit of mirror from Pinch’s robe. I must of ripped it off.
    Suddenly the sun catches it. It throws out a sharp shard of light.
    Pinch flings up his hand. Covers his eyes.
    A chance. I got a chance.
    I flash the mirror at him agin. Then I move. Quickly. Silently.
    He aims the shooter where he thinks I am.
    I move. Flash the mirror agin. Move.
    He waves the shooter around. Stay still! he yells.
    I flash the mirror. Move.
    He shoots.
    I duck.
    The shot goes wild. Ricochets offa the rock, sendin red dust flyin everywhere.
    As the echo dies down, as the dust clears, I see Pinch.
    He’s standin a few paces from the edge of the ledge. He looks surprised. There’s blood gushin outta his neck. The bolt’s ripped through it. He touches his neck. Looks at his wet red fingers like he cain’t believe what he sees. Then he presses his hand to the wound.
    But I’m the King, he says.
    You ain’t no King, I says.
    They said you were the Angel of Death, he says. He takes a step towards me, blood gushin out from between his fingers. I didn’t believe them.
    Suddenly Nero dives at him, squawkin an flappin. Pinch’s arms fly up. He staggers. Steps back into thin air.
    I rush to the edge.
    He’s on his back. His arms an legs flung out. His eyes wide open.
    Speared on the sharp point of the Hoodoo below.
    Nero flutters down to land on my shoulder.
    By rights, I should feel somethin. Joy or relief or triumph or … somethin. But I don’t. I