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At the next bend, Mantoma climbed up the hill and left the trail. His pace remained steady as he moved almost effortlessly through the forest. Entering the trees was risky but necessary. The slope rose steadily and the trees began to thin out, giving way to large rocks and boulders. The sound of running water was growing louder and the ramala hurried toward that sound. He knew the rocks would slow down his enemy and give him the time he needed to prepare. Prepare for his final battle, his sacrifice and his death.

Abruptly, the trees gave way to a sheer cliff. Mantoma stopped at the edge and knelt down. From a pouch at his waist, he drew out four small stones. From the rawhide strip around his neck, he removed a stone talisman. A very wise, very old man had given the charm to Mantoma on the day he had become the tribe’s ramala. It would not be passed on again. Its purpose had been foretold many generations ago and today, that purpose would be fulfilled. It would be many, many seasons before the Hoshan people saw the white Europeans. By that time, the story of today’s battle would only be a legend among his people. Mantoma scribed a circle on the rock and placed the stones upon it at four points, as though he were making a compass. In the center of the circle he placed the talisman, facing the direction from which he had come. He bowed down and touched his forehead to the ground, placing his hands palm down on either side of the circle. As he heard his enemy advancing through the trees, his chanting grew louder and more urgent. It would be soon now. Very soon.

When he knew that his enemy was in sight, Mantoma raised his head and opened his eyes. He stared into the eyes of the beast that was closing in on him. It jumped from tree to tree, consuming everything in its path. Mantoma could feel the burning, searing heat on his face and arms, but still he did not move. He chanted, uttering words that had not been used by anyone in his tribe since long before his birth. They were words of power, words of control and words of death.

“Cha chi non a non. Ho la mong da din da. Sangawa, cho tam non a non. Lam shi do, cha chi, cha chi, non a non. Sangawa, cho tam non a non. Sangawa, cho tam non a non. Sangawa, cho tam non a non. Sangawa, cho tam non a non……”
As he repeated the final chant over and over, the ramala rose to his feet to greet his enemy. He would not fail. The enemy would die and so would the man. The heat was now forming blisters on Mantoma’s face, arms and chest, but he did not feel the pain. He continued to stare into his enemy’s eyes and chant, “Sangawa, cho tam non a non, sangawa, cho tam non a non.” The chant was beginning to have an effect. The beast slowed its progress and paused as though unsure of its next move. Mantoma chanted louder now, swaying back and forth as the skin began to peel from his face and hands. Every breath was searing his lungs. His clothes and the cord around his neck began to burn. The ramala began to sense fear in his enemy. The beast was looking for a way to escape, but there was nowhere to go. The chant was pulling Mantoma’s enemy toward him now. The beast flailed in desperation, sensing its demise. When it realized that it was doomed, it turned to strike out at the source of its pain. Just as his enemy turned to attack, Mantoma reached down and grabbed the talisman. It was nearly glowing from the heat and it burned itself into the flesh of the ramala’s hand. Mantoma clutched the charm to his chest, a small statue of stone carved into the shape of a bear. He could no longer chant because he was unable to breathe. The heat had scorched his mouth and throat all the way into his lungs. Skin was falling off of his arms and his hair was burning. As his enemy made its final strike, Mantoma smiled. He had won. The ramala’s body burst into flame and was consumed in an instant, leaving nothing but the small bear charm behind. The talisman bounced twice on the hard stone surface before tumbling over the cliff and into the river below. The forest was silent for a few moments before finding its voice. In not too many years, the blackened areas would grow back, erasing all traces of the battle from sight.

                                                                   The Spur

“Come on, Tommy, you promised you’d make a fire,” Katie admonished as she removed her boyfriend’s hand from under her sweatshirt.
“Hmmmmm…… I thought I was lighting your fire,” Tommy replied as he leaned over to kiss Katie on the neck.
Katie wiggled away from Tommy and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You know what I mean. It’s dark out here and I want a fire. Besides, you promised.” Katie’s tone left no doubt in Tommy’s mind that he would be sleeping in his bag alone if he did not do as she demanded.
“Ok, ok, just give me a few minutes.” Tommy grabbed the flashlight and headed into the dark to gather kindling and firewood. Katie could be a pain when she wanted something, but she was also very accommodating after she got what she wanted. Tommy was very sure that the pleasures of her body would be well worth the trouble of lighting a campfire.

Tommy returned with an armload of small twigs and branches, dumping them on the ground in front of Katie, now buried up to her neck in the sleeping bag. He arranged them in a haphazard pile and pulled his lighter from the pocket of his jeans. The flame from the lighter licked at the twigs in the pile for a moment before they began to burn. Tommy blew into the base of the fire and watched it spread to the larger branches. He had been worried that the wood was too wet to light, but that did not seem to be a problem. As a matter of fact, this fire was lighting very quickly. Tommy turned and grabbed some larger logs that were lying nearby and threw them on the fire.

“Now then, where were we,” Tommy cooed as he started to slide into the sleeping bag next to Katie. To his delight, he found that she was quite naked. “Mmmmm, my favorite outfit….”
“Not so fast, no clothes allowed in here, Mr. Hawkins.” Katie teased. Tommy kicked off his sneakers, slipped out of his jeans and pulled his shirt off over his head, tossing them next to the sleeping bag. He stretched his arms out and posed for Katie as the firelight glinted off his body and created a dance of shadows in the trees behind him. The breeze was cool and Tommy had worked up a sweat gathering the firewood. He felt a slight chill and hurried into the bag with Katie. She kissed him wetly on the mouth as she wrapped her soft, warm body around him.
“Hmmm, my boy scout,” Katie purred into Tommy’s ear as she ran her fingers across his thigh. He buried his face in her neck and nibbled on her earlobe, pulling her to him. The couple was oblivious to anything but each other.

The campfire crackled and burned, embers leaping into the night sky. As the flames consumed the wood, small tendrils of fire began to work their way toward the edge of the makeshift fire ring. The tendrils grew to fingers that reached out as if blown by an invisible gust of wind. One long flame reached toward Tommy’s jeans lying on the ground, just reaching the leg. A small streamer of smoke began to curl up from the cuff of the pants. As the jeans began to smolder, a small flame flickered and grew larger, working along the leg of the jeans as if someone had lit a fuse. The campfire had changed. The flames began to move in a circular motion around the ring, slowly spreading outward. Tommy caught a glimmer of light as the fire leapt from his jeans to his shirt.

“What the hell….!” Tommy yelled as he pulled away from Katie and jumped up from the sleeping bag. He grabbed his jeans and shirt and started beating them against the ground in an effort to extinguish the flames. His actions only served to fan the fire, spreading it across the fabric of both garments. Tommy dropped his shirt and tried stomping out the fire, forgetting he was barefooted. He screamed at the pain of his scorched foot and failed to notice that his jeans were almost completely engulfed. Katie noticed that the fire looked very strange. She turned to say something to Tommy as the butane lighter in his pants pocket exploded, removing three of his fingers and igniting his arm up to the shoulder. Tommy screamed in agony, trying to get away from the searing pain in his arm. Blood shot form his mangled hand, much of it boiling away in the building heat of the fire.

“Tommy….!!” Katie screamed as the swirling flames of the campfire spread out like a fan, lighting Tommy’s hair on fire and wrapping around his body like burning blanket. His screams were stifled as the fire caused his skin to peel away from his skull in ribbons of burning flesh. Katie stared in horror as he toppled over and thrashed on the ground in torment. She failed to notice that the fire spreading to the sleeping bag. She jumped up and tried to free herself from the burning bag, but the flames shot toward her, searing the flesh of her legs and ankles. The blinding pain caused her to lose her balance and fall toward the writhing mass of fire. Katie’s body ignited instantly, her screams erupting from her throat for only a few seconds before she collapsed in a burning heap next to Tommy. The circle of flame spread outward, burning away both bodies and all evidence of the two lovers’ camp completely. After a few minutes, the fire slowed and went out, leaving a large, circular burn pattern on the ground and a few clouds of smoke drifting over a large outcropping of rock known as the Spur.