Arrowland by Paul Kane

for the framework of the small lodge: facing the fire pit, with an opening at the front. This he covered with hides he'd brought with him, stitched together in the traditional way and weighted down with rocks. Tied inside the lodge were little pouches filled with tobacco as offerings. Using some of the longest logs he'd cut, Shadow built a kind of box about three feet square, which he then built up, filling it with kindling, before building up a dome of rocks - then more wood until the pile was quite high. He had another problem getting the fire to light, the wood refusing to respond to the spark of rock, the kindling unwilling to burn, but finally nature took its course as he knew it would. Soon a roaring fire was going.
    It took some time for the rocks in the pit to grow hot enough for his purpose. Shadow removed anything metal from his person. He also made sure he had the bottles of water he'd brought with him, for drinking and for wetting the rocks he'd be using - which would be carried into the lodge using a fork-like tool he'd affixed to the end of a long branch.
    He also set up an altar made from dirt found in the hole. On this he placed several items personal to him as offerings, including ashes from previous sweats - through which his mission had been imparted.
    Shadow stripped to the waist and began his Spirit Calling ceremony. He started by chanting words known only to him, the lodge preparing him for his journey to another plane of existence. Once there, he would call forth those who watched over him, to do battle with the ancients of this place. The prize would be the forest, for he needed to sever the link with Hood before he could defeat the man. Sherwood's favourite son fought with old gods on his side, but then so did Shadow. It was just a question of which were the strongest this day.
    To help him on his way, Shadow smoked the pipe he had prepared. While it was in his hands, it represented a conduit through which the universe and the creator's power could flow. It would help him to commune with those he sought.
    Shadow felt it flowing through him, felt the rhythms of this place just as surely as he had the stag's heartbeat. He begged the spirits he worshipped to come: to cleanse not only him, but the forest.
    They appeared in a miasma of colourful scenes, taking on shapes like the wolf, the bear and the buffalo. The creatures of this forest were pitted against them: led by a representation of the stag, no longer felled - because that was only its physical presence. Here it was strong and majestic, a symbol of the old god's power and dominance. For now. It was a battlefield unlike any other, way beyond anything ordinary humans had ever witnessed. Beyond guns, tanks and helicopters.
    Mighty hawks swooped and fought with owls, spinning over and over in the technicoloured clouds. The stag rammed its antlers into the bear, just as it had done with Shadow, only for the wolf to leap on its back and begin tearing chunks out of it. Even the smaller animals, like badgers and foxes, fought - pitting themselves against the creatures of the desert, like the rattlesnake.
    Shadow marvelled at the complexity of it, then at the simplicity: a glorious contradiction. The fight seemed to rage for hours but there was no telling the passage of time. The only way Shadow realised it was over was when the bear picked up the stag and held it aloft, delivering it to him.
    Shadow gave thanks to the Great Spirit, just before the connection was severed. He managed to crawl out of the lodge - staggering a few yards with a bottle of water he'd hastily grabbed - before collapsing.
    But he knew that no harm would come to him now. He was protected by the new keepers of Sherwood. And Hood was soon to find out exactly what it was like to be the prey instead of the predator.
    A trap would be set before long, and as Shadow drifted off into unconsciousness, he realised exactly where he would find the bait.

Chapter Seven
     
    Something was very