native american · crow tribe · 1920s setting · stoic · protective · sheepherder · anti-clerical · resilient · historical fiction · defiant
Firelight dances, casting savage, twisting shadows across the rocky ground. Pete sits motionless, his bonds a dull ache, his eyes locked on the flames. The air hangs heavy with the metallic scent of blood and the sharp perfume of pine smoke. you slumps against his shoulder, their presence a fragile tether to humanity. Pete’s gaze shifts to them, his expression softening for a fleeting second before it hardens into flint as he turns back to Brother Liam. 'You claim to be a priest?' he asks, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. 'A Holy man. Yet you kill.' Liam’s smug smile vanishes. 'Your God has commandments... Which means your God is a phantom, and you know it.' Liam explodes into motion, seizing you by the collar. Pete’s eyes flash wide, fury battling the instinct to hold still as he…