THE CHOSEN
A Novel of Prehistoric Fiction
by
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“NOOOOOO!” Sira screamed in outraged furry. Stumbling to her friend, icy shivers running down her spine. A dart protruded from Kinny’s shoulder. Her pain filled eyes pleaded with Sira and she whimpered pathetically. “By the Spirits.” Sira raised her fists. She screamed. “ There is nothing bad enough for you! I hope the Spirits eat you alive! May lightning strike you dead! May you be ground into the dirt!”
Suddenly lightning forked from the sky. The hunter’s bodies lighted up with an eerie blue glow. Their hair stood on end and they danced grotesquely on tiptoe. Sira smelled flesh burning, human flesh as again and again the lightning flashed, then as the hunters looked about in sheer terror seeking somewhere to flee; from the sky descended huge Spirit Wolves, their sharp teeth gleamed in the lightning flashes, blue fire flickering in their eyes. Thunder accompanied their eerie howls. They swooped down on the hunters.
One of the men started to run. It was the young man who had hunted and processed the bison. Faster than he could run, a Spirit Wolf plunged down and attacked. The hunter rolled onto his back and tried to protect his face with crossed arms. He screamed again and again, but the wolf shredded the flesh from his arms, shoving them aside it ripped out his throat; then he was silent. The Spirit Wolf stood over him, blue fire shooting from its eyes and blood dripping from its muzzle. As air gurgled from the open wound, the hunter’s final scream was silenced.
Another man made a break for it, his eyes wild with terror. The sky was now aglow with lightning and thunder. He dodged tree-trunk to tree-trunk, edging ever farther from the camp. But he was no match for the wolves. A pair of them leaped forward and took hold of him, one on either side. They pulled against each other ripping his hands to shreds then his arms, as the hunter danced and screamed. Almost casually one broke off the attack as if bored. The other finished off that hunter, leaving his body lying in a grotesque parody of life. It danced as if he were still alive, his flesh bubbling and bursting as blue fire flickered about it.
Sira crouched over Kinny. With shaking fingers she removed the dart from her friend. The wolf whined and licked her fingers. Sira sighed in relief. Kinny was hurt but her wound was not deadly. She would recover. A hoarse scream brought Sira’s attention back to the scene within the camp. The remaining men were leaping and shouting in terror as the Spirit Wolves relentlessly continued their attack. The largest of the wolves ripped the canines from the leader. “What did I do?” Sira whispered. “Did I call them down? Am I responsible for this?” She asked in wonder. Kinny whined and licked her fingers.
Now the Spirit Wolves drove the remaining hunters from the camp howling and nipping at their heels. Sira suddenly detected a different kind of thunder. The earth shook with its fury. Again the hunters screamed; but their final death gurgles were swallowed up in noise as the bison herd trampled them to death. Silence descended as the bison disappeared over the rise. The spirit wolves howled in chorus, an eerie song; joined by a pair of real wolves
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About the Book
The Pleistocene Ice Age rages; a girl is left to die but is
saved by ‘Spirit of Mammoth’, her destiny to bring The People back to the
spirits. In a cave, Sira survives with
three Dire Wolfs. Then, mammoth leads them to a source of stone. Sira brings it
and the wonder of tame wolves to the Bison Camp. She is welcomed with open hostility. Desperately she and her beloved wolves, flee--.
Her wolves lead her to a group of people trapped by a blizzard. They fear the wolves, they wonder at this strange woman, but they have little choice--. Follow her or freeze to death.
The Bison Camp suffers broken taboos, lust, and murder. In
desperation the Bison Camp follows Kam into deep winter. Just in time the wolves take them to
Sira. The Wolf Camp is born.
They become traders, raiders strike. Seasons pass with the mountains in turmoil The Wolf Camp rises from the dead; the raiders pay, leaving only two survivors. One a crippled old man, the other, scarred and twisted both inside and out, has fixed his hatred on Sira. Only she can eliminate him and complete her mission.
About the Author
Extensive research and degrees in North American Archaeology qualify Shirley East for authoring books about Paleo Indian Life. Working as Assistant to the Department of Anthropology at Eastern New Mexico University, she directed the development of the Paleo Indian Institute Museum and later the Blackwater Draw Museum. In 1964, while working at the famous Blackwater Draw site outside Portales, New Mexico she uncovered one of its most significant finds, (although its significance would not be realized until later) a hand dug well. In 1994 she was invited to return to Blackwater Draw at the invitation of the Smithsonian Institute to relocate and again excavate the well. (She had preserved and reburied it in 1964): its excavation . . . a complete success.