plumnovel Chapter 95 Returning Wounded!
Chapter 95 Returning Wounded!
Chapter 95 Returning Wounded!
The scent of death brushed past Tom's nose once more.
He was no stranger to this feeling, but every time, it was enough to terrify him!
Fortunately, this group risked their lives and managed to snatch another chance from the clutches of death.
Looking at the boy in front of him, who was even younger than himself, Tom couldn't understand it at all.
With such a small frame, how dare you go hunting in the dead of winter?
"You're saying he's a shaman's apprentice? That he's risking his life so his people can have food?"
Tom stirred the food in the pot inside the tent while asking the "snow wolf" a question, who was curled up in his sleeping bag.
At this moment, "Snow Wolf" was in a miserable state, his whole body wrapped in bandages and covered with dark ointment.
The battle with the terrifying giant bear not only severely injured him, but also nearly killed the two strong Klaus warriors.
Ironically, in the end, it was the boy they had been searching for who took care of them.
"Hmm!" came the snow wolf's voice from under the bandages, weak but firm.
"Tsk, unbelievable!" Tom muttered.
The child was as thin as a bean sprout and so young. How could he be a warrior who could fight prey in the freezing cold?
It's practically food delivered right to the black bear's doorstep!
The journey home was several times more difficult than the journey there, and naturally, the pace was much slower.
When they finally dragged their exhausted bodies back to "Dutton's House," the four hunters who had set out with their heads held high returned in a pitiful state:
Three horizontal lines indicate a severe injury that prevents the person from walking.
One can barely be considered vertical, but it can only be considered "half".
That "half" refers to Tom, whose right hand was severely frostbitten and wrapped in thick Crow medicated plaster. He couldn't even lift a gun to shoot, and even the slightest movement was excruciatingly painful.
In a short period of time, his right hand, which he relied on for survival, was essentially useless.
The chieftain of the Klaue tribe rushed over upon hearing the news, carefully examined the injuries of his tribesmen, and breathed a sigh of relief: "They just need to rest."
But when his gaze fell on Tom's hands, which were frozen purple, his brows furrowed, and he said with a hint of regret, "This injury—"
"I'll have to stay with you until spring."
The hearts of everyone at "Dutton House" sank instantly.
"Will it get worse? Will amputation be necessary?" James asked gravely, his voice low, voicing his worst fears.
The chieftain shook his head: "The injury isn't too serious, it won't fester. But—" He paused, "you won't be able to hold a gun steadily until spring."
Through the accounts of the wounded, the group finally pieced together the harrowing experience.
With the dust settled, the chieftain of the Klaue tribe led his people on their journey home.
However, one person stayed behind: "Snow Wolf".
He was too badly injured to withstand the rigors of a long journey.
Lying on the bed, "Snow Wolf" confirmed again: "Our people dragged the bear carcasses back to the tribe. You really don't want them? Those two bears had a lot of meat."
He added, "Especially that black bear with its belly covered in white fur that looked like a snow blanket!"
This time, "Snow Wolf's" attitude was much more moderate than before.
Tom shook his head again: "No need. Your tribe has more people, and they need these rations more."
Snow Wolf settled down at Darton House to recover from its injuries.
As the days went by, Tom managed to pry more and more information out of him.
For example, the amazing warmth-keeping secret of the Klaue tents lies in the fact that they are soaked in a special solution during production; there's also the unique material of their sleeping bags, and the origin of that mysterious sphere—
Snow Wolf can give a general idea of some things, but when it comes to core secrets, he immediately becomes a lisp, and no matter how Tom tries to pry him out, he can't get the information.
At times like this, Tom felt a surge of anger rising to his head, and his mind would uncontrollably flash through various images of "friendly exchanges." He wished he could tie up this stubborn guy and use the ten most cruel tortures to force him to talk!
The conversation circled back to things they were all familiar with: land, bison, and horses.
Finally, gold inevitably came up in conversation.
"You don't like gold mines?" Tom almost thought he was hallucinating.
"Snow Wolf" nodded readily.
Tom's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets: "What a joke! Hasn't your tribe ever traded gold for things? Never spent it in town?"
As far as he knew, the Crow tribe was one of the Native American tribes with relatively harmonious relations with the settlers. Didn't they obtain many of their resources through trade?
Gold is a hard currency!
He simply couldn't understand: "The gold mine down the mountain is a swarm of hornets, with countless people scrambling to get in! Gold! That's something everyone's fighting tooth and nail for! You're sitting right on a treasure trove, and you say you don't like it?"
This completely overturned his understanding!
"That's right!" Snow Wolf answered crisply and decisively.
Tom was even more confused: "So your people don't like it either?"
"No!" Snow Wolf's voice suddenly rose, filled with suppressed anger.
"They love it! They love it to death! They love trading gold for that damned liquor! For guns that can kill! Even—"
He even considered leaving the mountains and moving to that damned town!
Tom's heart skipped a beat; something was off about that tone!
"Isn't this... good?" Tom tried to understand. "Having money, living a better life, enjoying life, isn't that...?"
"Enjoy?" Snow Wolf abruptly interrupted him, his eyes blazing with fire.
"We are Indians! The mountains, the earth, the wind chasing bison and horses—that's our life! Gold—"
Gold will only rot my people! It will wipe out the tribe completely!
He growled, like a wounded lone wolf, "We belong to this land forever!"
Tom stared intently at the "Snow Wolf," his eyes filled with only deep pain and unwavering determination.
He knew these were heartfelt words.
After a moment of silence, Tom spoke slowly, his voice like a cold awl: "Even without gold—your tribe might not have survived indefinitely."
These words struck Snow Wolf like a hammer blow.
He looked up abruptly, staring at Tom in disbelief.
Tom avoided his piercing gaze, his tone flat yet cruel: "Didn't you see? Before, there were only a few scattered pioneers here, but now? Gold rushers, whistling trains—more and more people."
He paused, then lowered his voice, "There's only so much land, but people keep pouring in. What will the result be?"
The surrounding air instantly froze, becoming so heavy it was suffocating.
Snow Wolf's face turned extremely ugly, and his fists clenched tightly at his sides.
"We have reservations!" he practically spat out the words through gritted teeth, with a final, desperate struggle.
Tom looked at the soldier who hated gold, feeling a pang of pity, but the words were already out: "A reservation? Where? How big? Is that up to you?"
Snapped!
Before he could finish speaking, Tom received a solid blow to the back!
He winced in pain.
"If you're bored out of your mind, go fetch water from the river!"
Margaret, the mother, hadn't put down the spoon yet, her eyes sharp as knives.
Tom rubbed his burning back and instantly understood: don't agitate the injured person, they're still lying down!
Time slipped to February 1884.
The bitter cold persists, which is barely "good news" for the immigrants.
However, this deathly "calm" was suddenly shattered by a burst of intense gunfire coming from afar!
Everyone's heart jumped into their throat!
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