Savage Betrayal by Theresa Scott

his thigh.
    Now Fighting Wolf had the advantage and he used it. Kicking Feast Giver’s knife from his hand, he disarmed him. Then he lunged on top of the man, knife out, ready to stab. Fighting Wolf felt the fury over his father’s death erupt and cascade over him.
    As he was about to bring his knife down for the second time, a large hand grabbed him from behind and spun him off Feast Giver’s prone body. Defending himself, Fighting Wolf lunged at his attacker. The man, large and strong, swung a war club at Fighting Wolf’s head, but missed. At the last moment, he was pushed off balance by Fighting Wolf’s tackle around the knees.
    Completely caught up in defending himself from the brutal attack, Fighting Wolf had no time to see Crab Woman surreptitiously approach the almost unconscious Feast Giver. Looking hastily around to see that no one was paying her any attention, she grabbed him roughly about the shoulders. Gripping him underneath each arm, she staggered with the heavy body over to a haphazardly stacked wall of cedar chests. Grunting heavily, she pulled the inert body around the wall, hiding it from view. Looking around, she spied several cedar mats. Grabbing some, she tossed them over the body to hide it from searchers. That done, she ran back out into the melee.
    The warrior was on his knees, Fighting Wolf wrapped around him. Seeing the man aim his war club again at his head, Fighting Wolf quickly stabbed him in the back several times. Blood was streaming down the man’s back as he bowed forward and fell on him face, never to stir again. Pushing the heavy body off himself, Fighting Wolf got slowly to his feet, panting. The suddenness of the man’s attack had caught him off guard. Turning quickly to confront Feast Giver once more, Fighting Wolf was surprised to find his opponent had disappeared. Puzzled, he had no time to wonder what happened before he was distracted by Thunder Maker, his archenemy.
    He stalked over to where Thunder Maker was trying vainly to hold off two bloody Ahousat attackers. A guttural order from Fighting Wolf and the men slunk away to engage other enemy victims.
    Facing the hated Thunder Maker, Fighting Wolf bared his teeth in a snarl and demanded, “Defend yourself, cur! I will defeat you in revenge for my father’s death, you offal!”
    He thrust one of his own daggers into Thunder Maker’s hand. He would let no man say it was not a fair fight.
    Thunder Maker circled his opponent warily. He saw the deep hatred in the glistening eyes, the breadth of the panting chest, the taut body in fighting stance, anger barely controlled. And he knew fear. More than that, he knew he looked into the face of death. He could hear the screams around him and he knew his time had come.
    He lunged at the younger warrior, stabbing at him with a powerful blow. He missed. Fighting Wolf’s low laugh taunted him as he ducked the blow and returned one of his own. Thunder Maker felt a sharp, burning pain in his right shoulder, but knew he could not stop the fight. It was to the death.
    There were few sounds of battle now. Most of his men lay dead, their bodies littering the floor.
    Desperate, Thunder Maker switched his knife to his functioning hand, the left one. At such a disadvantage, he knew he must kill the younger man soon. Feinting to one side, he quickly jabbed from the other. Fighting Wolf was expecting such a trick and jumped easily out of the way. In a surprise move, he lunged for the older warrior’s legs and tripped him. Thunder Maker fell heavily to the floor. Bringing his knife up and under the old man’s chin as he lay prone, Fighting Wolf was surprised to gaze into eyes that held no fear, only resignation.
    Grabbing the knife out of the old man’s hand, he grinned down into the face. His voice carried in the silence and all eyes turned to him as he sneered, “Old man, do you think you’ll die this day?”
    No answer, just the resigned eyes staring back at him.
    “No, old man, you won’t