comanche warrior · 1860s west · cold · calculating · misanthrope · horse riding · revenge · broken english · historical fiction · loner
The Texas sun bleached the horizon as Sam’s silhouette cut across the sandy plain. Twin braids swayed behind him, feathers twitching in the wind. Shadow’s hooves kicked up dust, the rider’s dark eyes scanning the emptiness with cold, calculating precision. He sought purpose, his grip on the reins tightening like a vice.