[Johnnie and the others who have elected to help him follow the wagon's initial approach so they can unload wood into the fields. While the wood is still dry, as darkness begins to fall, Johnnie lights his torch and the torches of the other two, and they each start a pile of wood burning, then begin to distribute the burning wood through the fields. His horse may be stubborn, but it seems willing for now to follow the others, and stays steady even as the wind whips the burning wood piles into bonfires. In the firelight, he swears he can see the faintest outline of forms on the horses and the other two men - ghostly, tinted orange, and then they flicker and vanish in the wind.
The guards are quick to respond with cries of fire!, but not as quick to come up with solutions to it. He imagines they must be trying to gather buckets of water or blankets to smother the flames first. One rides out ahead looking for the culprit, and Johnnie raises his pistol and shoots him in the chest.]
Take that, jackass!
[Man. It feels weird to kill so easily, but good. Feels powerful. These assholes more than deserve the worst he can give them. The guard tumbles off his horse and hangs from a stirrup as the horse panics and gallops, turning away from the fire with fear in its eyes. Somewhere among the beans, the body falls to the dirt and stays still.
The wind fans the flames, which sputter and struggle in the rain until something changes, like a switch being flipped. They gain enough heat to sizzle the falling raindrops into steam, and then embers begin to spread through the field, slowly at first, then faster.
From the direction of the house, there's a gunshot, and a bullet flies through the darkness past him. His horse tosses its head, and abruptly bolts forward, leaving Johnnie to hold onto the reins for dear life as he's nearly flung to the ground.]
Oh, what the fuck, you wanna get us killed? Again?
[He snarls and tugs at the reins, but the creature refuses to slow down. Something wild is in its gait, and wind whistles through its ribcage. It runs right toward the farmhouse, toward a pair of guards who are busy pumping water into buckets, and at that point Johnnie figures what the hell, he's just going to go with it. He raises his torch and his blanket-cape billows behind him, and as he approaches, he gives an eerie howl.
The guards panic. One throws his bucket of water at Nayáwsa' which does nothing more than get its bones wet. The other reaches for his whip, but the horse closes too quickly for him to use it, and tramples the man to the ground. There's a crunch as hooves break through flesh and bone.
And now, Johnnie appreciates this damn horse. Yeah, fine, he has zero control over it, but it's a kind of chaos he loves. With his own demonic snarls and howls to accompany the disguise, he sweeps his torch at the farmhouse with one hand, catching a pile of unswept pine needles on fire, then fires his pistol with the other at another guard, and just pleads like hell and holds on with his knees and hopes his crazy nightmare of a mount doesn't throw him off its back.
Sometime in all the havoc, the fire catches up to them, and he can hear the others who came with him whooping and hollering and following his lead, tying up the guards and family all at the same time while the wagon and its team roll up to intercept the newly-freed men and women. He can't keep his eye on the bunkhouses, and has to hope Chrissy is managing all right with Bobby and the wagon team. He can feel heat at his back, and flames start to lick at the edges of his blanket, curling the wool it's made of and blackening pieces of it to ash.
The fire soon becomes too dangerous to stick close to, and Johnnie has to shout and kick and drag at his horse's reins to get it to leave well enough alone. His personal goal, ruining the crops and the farmhouse and all these people's possessions, has been achieved easily, and the smoking, flaming remains of the house stand like a beacon in the darkness of the storm among shouting people and howling dogs. Somewhere in all that he hears a man shouting directions - guard or the landowner, he can't tell, but he fires blindly in that direction to get him to shut the fuck up as his horse carries him past.
By the time he's carried back to the barn, he's covered in soot, his hair in wild tangles, and laughing his ass off the whole time. His torch has long gone out, his blanket was lost somewhere in the madness, and he's having a great time of it all. He waves the dead torch at Chrissy, then tries to urge his horse to stop, only for it to rear up and dump him on the floor of the barn. He rolls, then lets himself flop flat on his back, limbs spread as he laughs.]
Hooo, fuck. Was that the wildest shit or what? Man, that fire has a life of its own out there!
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The guards are quick to respond with cries of fire!, but not as quick to come up with solutions to it. He imagines they must be trying to gather buckets of water or blankets to smother the flames first. One rides out ahead looking for the culprit, and Johnnie raises his pistol and shoots him in the chest.]
Take that, jackass!
[Man. It feels weird to kill so easily, but good. Feels powerful. These assholes more than deserve the worst he can give them. The guard tumbles off his horse and hangs from a stirrup as the horse panics and gallops, turning away from the fire with fear in its eyes. Somewhere among the beans, the body falls to the dirt and stays still.
The wind fans the flames, which sputter and struggle in the rain until something changes, like a switch being flipped. They gain enough heat to sizzle the falling raindrops into steam, and then embers begin to spread through the field, slowly at first, then faster.
From the direction of the house, there's a gunshot, and a bullet flies through the darkness past him. His horse tosses its head, and abruptly bolts forward, leaving Johnnie to hold onto the reins for dear life as he's nearly flung to the ground.]
Oh, what the fuck, you wanna get us killed? Again?
[He snarls and tugs at the reins, but the creature refuses to slow down. Something wild is in its gait, and wind whistles through its ribcage. It runs right toward the farmhouse, toward a pair of guards who are busy pumping water into buckets, and at that point Johnnie figures what the hell, he's just going to go with it. He raises his torch and his blanket-cape billows behind him, and as he approaches, he gives an eerie howl.
The guards panic. One throws his bucket of water at Nayáwsa' which does nothing more than get its bones wet. The other reaches for his whip, but the horse closes too quickly for him to use it, and tramples the man to the ground. There's a crunch as hooves break through flesh and bone.
And now, Johnnie appreciates this damn horse. Yeah, fine, he has zero control over it, but it's a kind of chaos he loves. With his own demonic snarls and howls to accompany the disguise, he sweeps his torch at the farmhouse with one hand, catching a pile of unswept pine needles on fire, then fires his pistol with the other at another guard, and just pleads like hell and holds on with his knees and hopes his crazy nightmare of a mount doesn't throw him off its back.
Sometime in all the havoc, the fire catches up to them, and he can hear the others who came with him whooping and hollering and following his lead, tying up the guards and family all at the same time while the wagon and its team roll up to intercept the newly-freed men and women. He can't keep his eye on the bunkhouses, and has to hope Chrissy is managing all right with Bobby and the wagon team. He can feel heat at his back, and flames start to lick at the edges of his blanket, curling the wool it's made of and blackening pieces of it to ash.
The fire soon becomes too dangerous to stick close to, and Johnnie has to shout and kick and drag at his horse's reins to get it to leave well enough alone. His personal goal, ruining the crops and the farmhouse and all these people's possessions, has been achieved easily, and the smoking, flaming remains of the house stand like a beacon in the darkness of the storm among shouting people and howling dogs. Somewhere in all that he hears a man shouting directions - guard or the landowner, he can't tell, but he fires blindly in that direction to get him to shut the fuck up as his horse carries him past.
By the time he's carried back to the barn, he's covered in soot, his hair in wild tangles, and laughing his ass off the whole time. His torch has long gone out, his blanket was lost somewhere in the madness, and he's having a great time of it all. He waves the dead torch at Chrissy, then tries to urge his horse to stop, only for it to rear up and dump him on the floor of the barn. He rolls, then lets himself flop flat on his back, limbs spread as he laughs.]
Hooo, fuck. Was that the wildest shit or what? Man, that fire has a life of its own out there!