We Hear Chants

WE HEAR CHANTS INDIGENOUS ENCOUNTER BOOK THREE DAWN HARPER CONTENTS The Prequel Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 THE END Reader Review About the Author THE PREQUEL To Get The Best Reading Experience, Make Sure To Start With The Prequel! We Hear Chants: The Prequel (Click Here) Copyright © 2023 – Dawn Harper - All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This book may contain violence, sexual content and other suggestive themes. Recommended for readers aged 18 and above. Created with Vellum 1 When you find yourself facing death, you fight it. Blood pounded in Tyler’s ears as he tightened his grip around the wooden club. Crouching next to him, behind the stand of quaking aspen, were his fiancée Michelle; the renegade, Wambleeska; his friend Ian Harrington; and John Harrington, Ian’s uncle. Beyond the trees, a swarm of Oglala warriors on horseback thundered toward them. Moments earlier, the sea of ferocious tribesmen galloping up the hill had struck fear in Tyler’s heart. He would’ve given up and embraced death had it not been for Wambleeska’s wise words. The ancient Oglala saying had filled Tyler with courage, renewing his strength to fight. The emerald embedded in the leather bracelet on his wrist winked in the sunlight. The discovery of the bracelet had kick-started the chain of events leading them to this moment. In search of a good gift for Michelle’s mom, Michelle and Tyler had ended up at the Vintage Attic, an antique shop on the outskirts of Casper, Wyoming, owned by the reclusive John Harrington. Roaming through the shop, Tyler had stumbled upon a statue of a Native American chief. Clad in buckskin robes, moccasins, and an impressive headdress, the wax statue stood in a dark corner of the shop, glaring down its hooked nose at the customers meandering about. The gemstone-encrusted bracelet with a mysterious eye symbol on the statue’s wrist had stoked Tyler’s curiosity. A few weeks later, he’d learned the bracelet’s secret: The ancient artifact was a key to a portal connecting the past to the future. Skeptical of the bracelet’s time-traveling powers, Tyler and Michelle had decided to put the theory to the test and travel back in time with John. Tragedy had struck when they’d gone back in time to when the land belonged to the Natives who patrolled the area surrounding their villages in search of the wily Europeans. Detected by one such group of warriors roaming through the grassland, the trio had had to dash back to the portal to avoid getting captured. During the chase, Michelle had lost her footing, falling to the ground and getting captured. Tyler, Ian, and John’s subsequent mission to rescue her from the clutches of the Oglala tribesmen had brought them to this fateful moment where they sat crouching behind a row of trees, awaiting death. Fearing they couldn’t outrun their pursuers for long, they had decided to fight the huntsmen barreling toward them. The warriors steamed ahead, unaware of the fugitives trembling behind the trees. Wambleeska had suggested taking them by surprise, hoping it would give them an edge over their attackers. “On the count of three,” said Wambleeska, raising the hatchet in his hands. Tyler nodded, his gaze fixed on the approaching troops. “One…” He glanced at Michelle, whose big blue eyes glistened with tears. A while ago, they’d said their farewells, convinced that these were their last moments together and the struggle he’d gone through to rescue her had been in vain. The chances of him and Wambleeska surviving the attack were slim to none. The tide of horsemen brandishing clubs and axes would be upon them in mere seconds, swallowing them whole. Armed with a single wooden club and a hatchet, their two-man army couldn’t hold them off for more than a few minutes. Hopefully, this narrow window of time would be enough for Michelle and the others to escape. “Two…” Turning his head, Tyler saw Ian lifting a branch and holding it out before him like a sword. He wasn’t sure if Ian’s addition would make a difference, but he wouldn’t object. He shifted his gaze to the wave of warriors surging toward them and braced himself. The horse’s hooves pounded the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust. Blood pumped through his veins as he saw the tribesmen’s snarling faces emerge from the haze. Gritting his teeth, he prepared himself for the attack. “Three!” yelled Wambleeska as he charged through the trees. Tyler leaped to his feet and lunged forward as Wambleeska swung the hatchet. A long gash appeared on the horse’s flank, glistening scarlet. Roaring with pain, it lifted its forelegs, kicking and thrashing in the air before keeling over and pinning its rider under its weight. His leg crushed under his mount, the man howled in agony until a swift blow to the head by Wambleeska silenced him forever. Chaos rippled through the invading army, with riders pulling on their reins, horses neighing in protest, and heads whipping around in confusion. Wambleeska wrenched the hatchet loose, blood trickling down its sharp blade. He fixed his gaze on his next target and launched another attack. Heart thumping and blood roaring in his ears, Tyler dashed forward, knocking out another tribesman charging toward Wambleeska. A loud rebel yell made him wheel around. Face contorted in rage and a hatchet raised over his head, an Oglala