Free Hawthorne: Tales of a Weirder West by Heath Lowrance

outcropping of stone. We can gain high ground."
    She pressed another arrow into his hand and Hawthorne risked a backward glance. He could still hear them, moaning and wailing in the darkness, but he saw no sign of them.
    He wasn't foolish enough to suppose they'd lost them. They were
somewhere
out there in the dark, and he was not comforted by the fact that he couldn't spot them.
    From the corner of his eye he saw a flash of white, and then a tremendous force crashed into him from the left. He went down, and the bow went skittering out of his hands.
    The creature was on him, ripping at his throat with talon-like fingers, drooling black bile and screeching.
    A spider shimmered, taking solid form, and dove at his face. Hawthorne clenched his teeth, struggled to pull the
Iktomi
's fingers from his throat. The spider slammed hissing against his face, biting his lips and jaw with wicked fangs, smashing at his teeth, trying to break through. At the same time, the
Iktomi
clawed at him, howling.
    Hawthorne smashed his left fist into the monster's narrow nose, heard bone crunch, but the creature only grunted with irritation and focused its attack on getting Hawthorne's jaw open. Hawthorne pried at the fingers jamming into his mouth, not daring to bite them for fear that even with a small opening, the spider might work its way down his throat. He thrashed his head from side to side, was rewarded only with bites to his ear and above his eye.
    It was then he spotted the arrow where it had fallen in the dirt, barely an arm's length away, and a wild hope rose in his brain. He slammed his fist again and again into the demon's face, ignoring the spider that mauled at his jaw, and at last the vile white fingers slackened and the
Iktomi
roared in anger and frustration.
    Hawthorne reached blindly and felt the smooth polish of the arrow in his fingers. He gripped it like a knife and slammed the point home, right into the thing's ear.
    The roaring ceased and the creature fell away. The spider vanished.
    Hawthorne clamored to his feet, wiping blood away from his eyes.
    The four remaining
Iktomi
stared at him, less than thirty feet away. They hunkered motionless under the trees, no longer howling, no longer grinning, only staring with their dead black eyes. Several shimmering spiders hovered in the air above them, floating like garish confetti.
    He backed up one, two steps. He spotted the bow from the corner of his eye and picked it up. One of the creatures moved forward on hands and feet, and the others followed. Then another move forward, and another.
    Hawthorne turned and ran to catch up with the girl, and heard them shift behind him, giving chase again, but this time silently.
    A small clearing in the woods revealed a rocky ridge about twenty feet high, silhouetted against the night sky, and he saw Anpao's slender form atop it. "Hurry!" she said. He tossed her the bow, and she reached down a hand to help him up.
    He reached the top just as the Spider Tribe emerged into the clearing behind him.
    The ridge they stood upon was about ten feet around, and the far side of it dropped down steeper than the front. A decent defensive position. The remaining
Iktomi
crept forward, and Hawthorne slid an arrow into the bow, drew back the string and shot at them before they were three steps into the clearing.
    The arrow sliced into the dirt inches from the closest creature's foot.
    Frantically, Anpao said, "You missed!"
    He scowled, cursing himself for shooting too soon.
    "Only four arrows left, you cannot afford to miss again!"
    He turned his scowl on her. "Might've been a good idea to bring more arrows."
    "I did," she spat. "But, well ... I dropped several in my haste."
    The
Iktomi
approached with caution, glaring up at their prey. Hawthorne nocked another arrow, aimed, and let it fly.
    This time his aim was truer—the arrow hit home in the face of its target, and one more demon dropped.
    The last three did not react, only crept forward with chilling