Killing for Manhood
Copyright© 2026 by Heel
Chapter 6
He watched her longer this time, unable to stop himself.
Anna moved across the yard with painful care. The crutches were rough things, uneven, their ends wrapped in cloth to keep them from slipping. She placed them first, always first, testing the ground before she trusted her weight. Then she swung her body forward, dragging the left leg behind her like an object that no longer belonged to her.
The leg did not bend properly. The foot turned inward, scraping the dirt. Each step came with a pause—a breath held, a tightening of her jaw—then the next careful shift. Sweat shone at her temples though the morning was cool.
Thomas felt each movement like a blow.
She reached the well and leaned heavily against the stone rim, shoulders trembling. One hand shook as she lowered the bucket. When she straightened again, pain crossed her face so clearly he had to look away.
That was when a stone shifted under his foot.
The sound was small. It was enough.
A shout went up from below. Someone pointed. Another voice joined, sharp with suspicion. Thomas turned to run, but two men were already circling wide, cutting him off from the rocks.
“Hey!” one of them yelled. “You—stop!”
Thomas froze.
Hands seized him from behind, wrenching his arms back. His bow was torn away and thrown aside. Someone struck him hard across the face, the world flashing white.
“Indian,” a man spat. “What are you doing up there, spying on us?”
They dragged him down into the village. People gathered quickly—too quickly—faces hardening as they took him in: his clothes, his braids, the way he did not fight back.
“Rope,” someone said. – I think this is the boy who tried to kill Anna.
The words landed heavier than any blow.
They shoved him to his knees near the well. His heart pounded, fear crashing through him in waves so strong he thought he might vomit. He did not beg. He could not have found the words if he tried.
Someone brought a coil of rope.
“Where’d you see him?” a man demanded.
“On the ridge,” another answered. “Watching.”
“Watching who?”
Thomas lifted his head despite himself.
Anna stood a few yards away.
She had turned at the noise and now faced the crowd, her crutches planted wide for balance. Her chest rose and fell quickly. She looked smaller than he remembered—and older.
A man followed Thomas’s gaze.
“You,” he said to her. “You recognize him?”
Silence stretched.
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