Target Practice

Mingan sauntered into the camp, giving a can a rattling kick. "Hello?" he called, voice casual, senses on high alert. "Is there anyone here?"

"Oh shit!" came an exclamation from somewhere out of sight.

The woman cried out and was quickly muffled. One of the men appeared from behind the tent. He was large, with a reddened nose and scraggly beard. He hiked up his filthy jeans, and swaggered into view. "Oh, hey there, Chief. What can I do you for?"

"I was supposed to be meeting some of my friends up this way. You haven't happened to come across a man and a woman out here?" Mingan casually glanced around the campsite, hand on the handle of his pistol.

"What the hell does this Injun want?" called another man, skinnier, but just as filthy and unpleasant. Mingan noted the likelihood of hunting knives, but had seen no evidence of guns. They were almost certainly hunters, but this was not their camp. Their equipment had been left somewhere out of sight.

"Wants to know if we seen his friends. Man and a woman," the first man explained.

"Nope. Just us," the second confirmed.

"Strange," Mingan said. "I could have sworn I heard a woman..." The muffled whimpering started again followed by a low whisper of threats.

The big man sneered. "I think you best be minding your own business."

Mingan nodded and side stepped, putting some more distance between himself and the other two men. He'd hoped all three of them would have come out, but he could work with two. "The Ranch just up the way belongs to a friend of mine. He's not fond of hunters on his land. You aren't hunting out here, now are you?"

"Is that a threat, boy?"

"Just a warning. I'd suggest you look elsewhere for hunting grounds."

The second man howled with laughter. "Ballsy, ain't he?"

Mingan was tiring of the game. "I'm not going to say it again. You aren't welcome here." He drew his gun, carefully, undoing the safety and resting it along his thigh. He hated to resort to firearms, but it really was the easiest option, and one these men would understand.

He was more than a decent shot. His gun was a comfortable weight in his hand. He'd kept a pistol at his side for decades, having made a great deal of use of the small firearm during his time roaming the west. He was more fond of technological advances than many of the older Mythics.

The first man put his hands up. "Hey now, no need to be hasty.

"And there is no need for men to act like beasts." He nodded at the tent. "The one behind the tent, tell him to release whoever he's holding. Now." He gestured with his weapon. The scent of alcohol wafted off of them in staggering amounts.

They hesitated and Mingan sneered, pointing his gun at the fat man. "Do you have any idea how nasty a gut wound can be?" Mingan shook his head, frowning sadly. "Such a mess if you have to fish out the bullet, and worse yet if a bowel is damaged. Or something else of use. You know, liver, kidneys..."

"Ahh, Roy? Come on out."

He did, unfortunately, rifle in hand.

Mingan grinned, flashing sharp canines. "Wrong choice," he quipped.

He disarmed the rifleman with a single shot to the hand. The rifle rattled harmlessly on the ground. Mingan leveling the gun at the big man again. The young man, a boy, really, cried out in pain, clutching his hand.

"He shot my hand. Fuck man, it's bleeding bad..."

Mingan snarled. "Any of you go for a gun, and I'll be less generous with my aim." He fired again, taking off the big man's hat for emphasis. It was wasteful, that shot, he didn't have time to reload if this should get messy.

"Leave. Now. Before I decide I need a little more target practice."

"Watch it now, you could have taken off his head," said the thin man.

Mingan set his gaze on him. "Are you really going to tempt me?"

"Shoot him, one of you!" Barked the large man.

Mingan sighed and fired twice more, hitting the thin man in the right hand, then shooting the big man in the shoulder. They were all superficial wounds, but they'd be struggling to do much hunting, let alone be able to fire the rifle the boy had dropped.

"God damn it, man! I'm going to report you, you filthy piece of shit," groaned the big man, clutching his shoulder. "Tell the police this was all yer fault. Injun bastard."

"Start walking," Mingan replied, gesturing with his pistol. "Leave the rifle and go."

"It was my Pa's," whimpered the boy.

"And now it's mine," Mingan said. "I'm losing my patience. Get out of here. Now." He let his eyes flash at the last word.

The mortal men scrambled away from him. They might not know what it was they saw, but they sensed it. There was a stronger predator among them, their instincts took over, driving them back to their own campsite to nurse their wounds.

Elloreah was on her feet once the three men had receded into the forest, scrambling for the tent. Mingan stood guard. He was not happy with the situation.

If the fat man went to the authorities, he'd have to be careful. Spending time at the ranch might be a bad idea. He was distinctive enough, and well known among the people who stayed there.

He'd been lucky, catching the unaware, with only one rifle between them. He gathered up the rifle, assessing it. He shook his head. The fool had been threatening him with an unloaded weapon. He set it next to his pack, and dug out his charcoal.

Quickly, he marked the nearest trees with a series of runes. A whisper of a spell and they were shielded. Unless one of the three were witch-blood, they would not find this place again. After strapping the rifle to his pack, he made his way to Elloreah and the young woman they'd rescued.

The woman's hair was a dark spill of chocolate brown, her skin a golden tan, a mix of heritage and sun. She was scantily clad, wearing one the new swimsuits that had come into fashion of late. A bikini, he remembered vaguely.

Elloreah spoke softly to her, soothingly.

Mingan ducked his head into the tent, finding a blanket and handing it to them. He sighed when he saw the woman's companion. He lay bleeding, unconscious.

Mingan turned to the woman. "What happened?"

She only shook her head.

"They were swimming," Elloreah filled in. "At the creek. The hunters were at their campsite when they returned."

Mingan nodded and knelt to check the man's vitals. He was fading. "He's not going to make it," Mingan said.

The woman stirred at this. "They shot him," she croaked, her voice raw from crying. "It-It seemed like an accident at first." She shook her head, putting her hand to her mouth. "But I don't know... they were so drunk. I don't understand..."

Mingan went back to the tent and drew out another blanket, covering the man.

"No!" Elloreah exclaimed, rising from where she knelt by the human woman. "He's not gone yet! Help him!" she cried.