The Night Visitor  

Clean up scalps? My curiosity was piqued.

After a day filled with fear and exhaustion, Sofia had fallen asleep in my arms after eating a bit.

I held her close, pretending to be asleep, but my ears were fully tuned in to their conversation, and my eyes were barely open, watching them through a narrow slit.

Maybe it was one of the perks of being reborn, but despite their hushed voices, I could hear them clearly.

"Don't worry, boss. Last time was a fluke. I'll make sure it's perfect this time." Scar said, taking the scalps and spreading them on the ground. He pulled out a small knife and began scraping the skin to remove the blood and fibers on it.

Scar's hands were quick and skilled, and in no time, he had cleaned off all the remaining flesh and fibers from the scalps. The sight made my stomach churn, bile rising in my throat.

But Scar and Major Robert's men were unfazed, handling the grisly task with ease—clearly, they were used to this kind of scene.

Once he finished scraping, Scar got up and snapped a few branches from a nearby bush. He cut away the excess twigs and leaves, bent the branches into a circular frame, and stretched the scalps over them, tying them down with string. After brushing out the remaining hair and tying it into knots, he stuck a rod into the knots and planted it near the fire to dry the scalps.

Scar was so efficient that it took him less than twenty minutes to finish the job. Afterward, he plopped down beside the fire, wiping his bloodstained hands on the ground. Without a care for the bits of flesh still clinging to his fingers, he grabbed a chunk of cheese and took a hearty bite, washing it down with a swig of alcohol.

"Ah, fantastic!" Scar exclaimed. "Boss, at seventy pounds a scalp, like the governor's paying this year, that's 140 pounds for these two. If I'd known the price had gone up so much, I wouldn't have sold the others so cheap before."

"Yeah," a thin, wiry man named Jack chimed in. "Ever since those French frogs started pushing in, the price of Indian scalps has more than doubled. I hear the bounty in Pennsylvania is even higher, up to a hundred pounds a scalp. Boss, we should head over there to sell these—and maybe find some women to enjoy ourselves with. It's been hell being cooped up in these fucking woods for weeks."

"Jack, you barely last three seconds with a woman, maybe you should save your money for some good use," Scar mocked, grinning as he rubbed the human tissue off his hands with dirt.

"The tavern girls are no fun anyway," Major Robert added, thoughtfully stroking his chin. "They're all out of shape, with bad tempers. And their pussies have been stretched loose by who knows how many men."

"Boss, there's a beauty around here that puts all those tavern girls to shame. Her figure, her face, her poise—no noblewoman back home could match her," Jack muttered, licking his lips, a vile expression crossing his face.

"She's an Count's daughter," Scar stammered, clearly uneasy. "I heard the Spencer family is powerful in England. He could easily get revenge on three rangers like us."

"Fuck those nobles. Count or cunt, I could still fuck the shit out of their ass. This is the American frontier, not London. His status means nothing out here. As long as we're careful, leave no trace, and make it look like the Indians did it, no one will ever know. Boss, don't you want to taste what it's like with a noblewoman? Her pussy's gotta be a hundred times better than those tavern whores—less used, right?" Jack's filthy words made me furious in an instant.

These fucking bastards.

Major Robert glanced at Jack, a twisted grin forming on both their faces. Then he turned to Scar. "What do you think, Scar?" he asked, his hand casually resting on the axe hanging at his waist, as if ready to draw it at any moment.

Scar, cornered by their menacing stares, stuttered, "Okay, I'm in."

"And once we're done with the Count's daughter, we can take care of these two," Jack whispered into Major Robert's ear. "That'll be two more scalps, right?"

Major Robert took a long drag from his pipe, saying nothing, but his face twisted into a cruel smile.

These scum's words made me boiling with rage. I wanted nothing more than to stab all three of them to death right then and there.

Calm down. Calm down. I told myself.

They outnumbered me, and I was injured. I needed to think this through.

I kept my eyes barely open, calculating my chances. If I could strike quickly enough, I might take one of them by surprise and kill one or two of them before they could react.

Major Robert was the biggest threat, and also their leader. If I could take him down first, the others might retreat.

Scar didn't seem too dangerous, and Jack was all bark and no bite.

I watched them closely. Jack was the most eager, walking ahead of the other two. Major Robert followed, with Scar reluctantly bringing up the rear.

Twenty paces, fifteen, ten.

I estimated the distance between us. My heart pounded in my chest, my throat dry. Sweat slicked the palm gripping my dagger.

The palm that gripped the dagger was covered in sweat.

My breath came in shallow, rapid bursts. I bit down hard, trying to control my breathing so they wouldn't sense anything amiss.

You've got this. Believe in yourself, I told myself.

Five steps, three, one.

Jack and Major Robert were right in front of us now. I tensed every muscle, ready to spring into action. No matter who moved first, whether it was against me or Sofia, I wouldn't hesitate to drive my dagger into their throat.

Just as they were about to grab me and Sofia, the sound of hooves suddenly broke through the quiet night, freezing all of us in place.