The wind howled a mournful tune across the desolate prairie as Walking Man devoured the old man’s words. “Many winters ago,” the frail voice rasped, “the Tsis Tsis’tas lived in lodges, far east, content farmers before enemies and friends pushed them out.” Walking Man gnawed on his pipe stem, the harsh tobacco a welcome distraction from the unsettling tale.

The old man continued, weaving a chilling account of a monstrous creature, the White Devil. This wasn’t your typical enemy – it feasted on fear, leaving a trail of terror and shattered warriors in its wake. The village elders, consumed by fear, resorted to drastic measures, setting a fire that ravaged the forest in a futile attempt to banish the beast.

Walking Man felt a shiver crawl down his spine. The old man’s story wasn’t just about a mythical creature; it was a glimpse into the harsh realities faced by his ancestors – displacement, desperation, and the constant struggle for survival. This White Devil, perhaps, wasn’t just a monstrous beast but a symbol of the white settlers who encroached upon their land, stealing their way of life.

The old man’s voice lowered to a dramatic whisper. “The creature has returned,” he declared, his eyes filled with a chilling certainty. “This White Devil hunts for men, for women, for children. It will come for you, Walking Man.”

Walking Man stared, dumbfounded. How did the old man know his name? But the question died on his lips as the old man vanished like a wisp of smoke. Was it a vision? A twisted dream brought on by the harsh prairie wind?

He looked around. The warriors were setting up camp, oblivious to the chilling truth he now carried. Laughter and chatter filled the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within him. Should he tell them? Would they believe his tale of a monstrous beast feasting on fear?

Uncertainty gnawed at him. He glanced at Comes-a-Pony, her doe-skin shirt whispering secrets in the wind. Maybe, just maybe, she would understand. But the moment passed. He knew the warriors yearned for victory against the white soldiers, a chance to reclaim some semblance of control. Telling them about the White Devil would only derail their mission.

Alone with his thoughts, Walking Man stared into the dying embers of the fire. The old man’s words echoed in his mind, a haunting melody of fear and defiance. The White Devil, whatever it may be, represented a threat to his people and their way of life. He may not fully understand it, but one thing was clear – he wouldn’t let it consume him. He would face it, protect his people, and find a way to lead them through this darkness. As dawn painted the sky, a steely resolve hardened in Walking Man’s eyes. The hunt was on, not just for the white soldiers, but for answers, for survival. The White Devil might be a creature of legend, but Walking Man was a warrior, and he wouldn’t back down from a fight.

This is just a glimpse of what “The Ancient Blood” has to offer. To read the entire story, get your copy on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1917054645.

Witness a terrifying creature from legend awaken on the plains, nearly wiping out a Cheyenne tribe. Walking Man, a brave warrior, makes a desperate pact with his sworn enemies—white soldiers—to fight the monster together. But as the battle rages, a hidden danger emerges, forcing both sides to become the hunted in a final, brutal struggle against an enemy that seems unstoppable—and almost undefeatable — the white devil. Will the Walking man along with the white men, be able to kill the beast and save themselves and the town from the harrowing danger?

Only reading the book will lead you to an answer.