The tomahawk missed.

It missed!

And left stuck in the floor.

Sparrow Hawk surged to his feet, and lashed with his knife. Driving Mistikoman back from his axe. The outlaw native man grappled for his pistol. At the same time that Big Knife grabbed up his gunstock club. The pistol fired, but not before the big heavy wooden weapon Big Knife held connected with it, sending the bullet into the wall. And the pistol shattering into a few pieces. 

And then they stood.

The pair of First Nations Warriors. Mistihkoman, Big Knife, club in hand again, held low and with ease. Sparrow Hawk, flexing his gun hand shaking feeling back into it. They traded looks. Before Sparrow nodded. It'd be down to fist and blade and club then.

No room to circle. Little room to dodge. But when they both charged there is little sound. The knife of Sparrow Hawk missed by a hairsbreadth. Cutting through Mistihkoman's vest instead. Big Knife turned at the last moment to slam his shoulde rinto Sparrow's chest knocking him back. A hissing slash nearly caught Mistihkoman across the neck, but he dodged back and the tip glanced his cheek.

It's so close. There's an economy of movement that has to be used. Mistihkoman's club comes whistling up, catching Sparrow between the legs. The Navajo man gasping in pain. But before he can capitolize, Sparrow headbutts Mistihkoman on the bridge of his nose. The first true blood isn't from knife or club but Mistihkoman's nose bursting as it bleeds. The butt of the gunclub comes up and catches Sparrow in the chin, a cry of pain. And a tooth, trailing blood sails off to clatter among the boxes. Both men bleeding.

They stand apart now. Mistihkoman snorting blood clear, and wiping his upper lip. Sparrow spitting a gobbet of blood-saliva to the side. The pair look at each other. Then charge, but Mistihkoman isn't going to let this go much longer. As that knife Sparrow holds hisses through the air. Mistihkoman ducks, rolls and...

No one outside the car would hear it. But Sparrow shows it. He gasps and staggers. The strike that Mistihkoman placed on his lower back...it'd broken something. Sparrow can feel his legs beginning to go numb. Ht turns and tries to stab again. Mistihkoman catches the swinging arm on the inner edge of his club, there's another snap. And Sparrow looks at his broken elbow.

Sparrow gulps and looks at his cousin Mistihkoman, born in differing tribes, to different creeds, but cousins none the less. The Navajo man nods, and lets the knife slip from numb fingers. He spits blood tinged saliva to the side the falls to his knees. He grunts, "It was a good dance cousin. Don't make it long. The Great Plains above...they are waiting." Mistihkoman nods, "You fought bravely cousin. Under other circumstances I'd be proud to call you my Raid Brother." He wipes his lip again, "They'll be waiting. On the other side." Mistihkoman takes a have step back, turns a full 360 degrees, then...

This time the crunch can be heard from outside. The spike on the outer angled edge of the gunstock club having punched right through Sparrows throat and out the back. As Mistihkoman pulls his weapon free the body of Sparrow drops to the floor. And then and only then does he react to the fact his shoulder is still bleeding from the bullet to it. He coughs, "Hah...okay..." He can collect his scalp later. He heads back to the passenger carraige, "Need to find my bow." He growls, throwing open the door to see how things are going outside.

[hider=Concepts and Ideaology]

The Great Plains Above/Endless Hunting Grounds - The First Nations peoples afterlife. A place where they can rest, and wait for the end of time. Hunting is abundant, animals can be cooperative. It's a Paradise.

Those Waiting - Ancestors, family members who have gone before them, all will be waiting for a First Nations person upon their death and entry to the Great Plains Above.

[/hider]