Mr Hemmingway, is stuck fast under the front half of his horse. He is pushin’ and pullin’ and I nearly break my back trying to heave him out. The creature remains engorging itself on the other half.
“Tell me how bad does it look” he asks me.
“Real bad, Re Al Ba Ad” I reply,
“So we can’t fix it then?” The look in his eye is like a child wanting to find a way out of a situation. I know it is best not to sugar coat these things.
“Mr Hemingway, to be blunt the horse is in two pieces, unless this creature is an illusionist, wearing one of Radagast’s amazing disguises and is about to reveal himself with a theatrical Ta DA!! and the horse suddenly appearing whole again, I believe you to be bang out of luck.” I get a good gip and I am suddenly filled with the power of the divine, and pull Mr Hemmingway free easily.
The sight of his horse in half and being eaten drives home the reality of his insurance mistake.
In the background Mr The South, Mr Winters and Radagast are fighting the one who attacked Mr Winters .
Bang, Bang, Bang. Mystical magic sounds , with a satisfactory wet slap sound.
Mr Hemmingway turns and asks me “What can we do?”
BANG! BANG!
To which I reply “Let’s weigh up our options”
“Ok”
Mystical magical sound, Wet Slap, Bang, Bang.
“WE COULD SHOOT IT!” He shouts over the noise
“That is an option” I concede. “However”
BANG, BANG, BANG, fizzle, fizzle.
“Given their expertise in shootin’ and death, I fear we may lack the skills.”
BANG,BANG, BOOM!!
“We could run away” Says Mr Hemmingway, followed by the sound of some girly screams and the sight of someone being thrown around in the background.
“We, could do that, but I should point out”
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, Fizzle fizzle
“We could not run away on horseback, we stand very little chance on foot”
Bang, bang, bang BOOM!!
“So where does that leave us then?” More screams followed by “Die” Bang, “Die” Bang, “Die” Bang and very girly screams from Radagast obviously planning a female disguise next.
“Back with the first option” I reply.
BOOM, BANG, Magical sounds followed by a wet slap, BOOM!!
“Okay on the count of four” says Mr Hemmingway
Bang, bang, bang.
“Who goes on four?”I ask
Fizzle, fizzle Bang , bang
“Well three then! Better?”
Screams and the sound of tearing flesh
“Much. One”
Bang, Bang, BOOM!!!
“Two” says Mr Hemmingway.
Fizzle, Fizzle
“Three” we say together, I run forward knife in hand looking for a weak spot and an opening, safe in the knowledge my friend, and travelling companion is by my side. I cast a glance to my side for moral support and see……..
…………. an open plain, a tree in the distance blowing gently in the afternoon breeze, the majesty of an eagle circling above looking for its prey. A little closer a larger bolder, a remnant of an ancient glacier, showing the power of flowing ice, a lizard lying on the rock bathing in the fading heat of the afternoon’s sun. What is lacking from my view is a Mr Hemmingway.
Turning my attention to what lay ahead, which is a mass of teeth and legs and a very angry disposition . I must confess to having the wind knocked out of my sails and feeling a little under-dressed with a small knife in hand. Still my course was set and I struck it with my knife, which seemed to upset it somewhat.
Mr Hemmingway was right behind me, about 40 feet behind me, tongue hanging out his mouth and the sweat of concentration trickling down his brow, he fires, pew pew, the bullets bounce off. I am now dancing with the beast him vicious and deadly me with a glorified butter knife and Mr Hemmingway’s .22 “Sting” fortunately for me the other beast dies and the three others enter this battle.
Radagaast casts a spell which is the cause of the wet slap sound, the noise is the wound inflicted on the creature, Mr The South has quite enough of this and walks up to the creature and sticks his gun in the socket where formerly an eye lived and fans his gun. Mr Winters starts pumping rifle rounds into the creature, in retaliation it almost bites Mr The Souths leg off below the knee it is an awful mess. I believe the creature had heard of the rhyme “Run, run, run away and live to fight another day” because that’s exactly what it did.
I asked the Lord to save Mr The South’s leg and the good Lord chose too.
Physically we are all good, but fashion wise we are a disaster in need of a seamstress. Our losses now count as One white suit and one pair of white trousers. Shirt and trousers and two hire horses.
Two horses down, we decided to double up. Radagast trying to be helpful tries to bolster Mr Winters’s horse but ends up crippling it so it can barely carry its own weight. Summer (that’s what he called it) now looks more like winter and the end of the road. So we are severely slowed by having to walk.
On with our journey we press on into the night and finally come across the Indun’s.
We move on towards the Indun camp, Summer looks like he needs to rest or be shot. Mr Winters looks like a man beaten up, blown up and angry over his emaciated horse. In fact I would go so far to say, he looks like a man trying to decided if can justify to himself shooting Radagast.
On the point of Radagast, I can see both sides. He has been of great help in the fights and has tried his best but outside the domain of combat he has done a lot more harm than good. He has a secret and is driven by something none of us can understand. Money I get, to do the Lords work is my calling, to avenge understandable, to be a mean SOB cool, but what is Radagast's gig? I will tell him that magic on us or our belongings is best done with consent of the owner.
These Indun's do a lot of talkin' and not much in the way of good Christian worship, a while later, it is decided that they will create peace with the town, but they want us to track something, a piece of Ghost Rock with quick silver vein running through it. Their shaman brings up an image of the man we seek in the water in a font this is Indun magic and it’s pretty cool, I also believe they are going to try and fix Summer.
We set off for the town where the image of the man we seek was last at. Mr Hemmingway and Radagast have borrowed horses from the Indun’s.
We set of five wide and riding like a posse. This lasts all of two seconds when the Indun horses bolt, Summer feeling a lot better wants to run and bolts as well. I am not sure if Mr The South’s horse bolted or he wanted to ride wild, you just can’t tell with these Southerners, but he has gone as well. Mine and Mr Hemmingway’s horses like the idea but lack the commitment to join in and after a few seconds we have regained control. We are sitting on our horses watching the other three breaking off in different directions.
I look up at the sky and talk to God “Lord some men you made of Steel, mine you made out of shit” I am sure the good Lord is testing me. We put the coffee on and wait.
Eventually they all drift back and we set off again. We arrive at the town and find out the man we seek left on a coach bound for Denver but has many stops on the way. Hoping to get lucky Mr Hemingway and I check the bank just incase he deposited it there, but alas he seems to have the rock with him. Mr The South went looking for a tailor, but he has reappeared wearing shorts in white with long socks (also white), he looks like a German postal worker. Mr The South is not looking to happy about this change in image, and is going to shoot something by the look on his face. Radagast, Radagast you ask, who knows. The master of disguise could be anything here, could even be the tailor who cut Mr the South’s trousers………..