Killing for Manhood
Copyright© 2026 by Heel
Chapter 1
Thomas Gray Elk crouched above the road, bow tight in his hands, knees trembling despite the stillness he had practiced since childhood. Morning light stretched across the dust, unforgiving and bright. The world felt too open, too exposed, as if the land itself were watching him decide.
Sixteen summers was old enough to be tested.
The elders’ words pressed against his chest. A boy learned to hunt. A man proved he could act when fear whispered otherwise. The white people came every year in greater numbers, and the land grew smaller beneath their boots. This was not cruelty, they said. This was necessity.
One life. Alone.
A figure appeared on the road.
A girl.
She walked by herself, unhurried, her blond hair catching the sun like dry grass. She looked close to his age. She carried a small bundle and paused now and then, as if enjoying the quiet. Once, she laughed softly at something only she could hear.
Thomas’s mouth went dry.
This was wrong. He had imagined someone older. Someone who fit the story he had been told. Not a girl whose presence felt like a mistake the world was about to make him responsible for.
His hands began to shake.
He told himself to breathe. He nocked an arrow, the hawk feathers brushing his fingers. The bow rose—but not steadily. His arms felt heavy, his heartbeat loud enough to drown thought.
The girl stopped near the stream and knelt to drink. When she stood again, she stretched, one hand pressing briefly into her lower back. She turned her head, frowning, sensing something she could not name.
Fear surged through him.
Now, a voice in his head said. Or never.
He drew—but his aim wavered. The bowstring trembled against his fingers. His uncle’s lessons slipped away, replaced by panic and the awful awareness that this could not be undone.
The arrow left the string poorly.
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