Trickster Races the Lightning Wolf

By Meghann McVey

Trickster gambles away his entire livelihood, including his wife and daughter. His wanderings to pay his debt lead him to the gods’ realm and into conflict with the fearsome Lightning Wolf.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meghann McVey
• Release date: Mar 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476065649

Meghann McVey

Meghann McVey grew up in Hawaii and currently lives in New Orleans. With her Master of Arts in English and work in commercial nuclear power since 2008, she is proof that degrees needn't dictate one's jobs. Among her many muses are Ray Bradbury, Walt Disney, and Japanese animation.

Book preview

Trickster Races the Lightning Wolf

Meghann McVey

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012

Smashwords Edition, License Notes.

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Trickster Races the Lightning Wolf

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Trickster raised the bones to complete the toss that would decide all for this game. He sensed the burn of his fellow gamblers’ eyes, in spite of the smoke that filled their stuffy tent. Sweat matted his hair and feather necklaces to his skin. Trickster’s yell – the saving triumph would be his -- pounded for freedom against his chest. With this throw, thought Trickster, I will take back my family’s winter skins and meats, our medicine wheels…the virtue of my daughters and wife! Deft Hands will not defeat me, even though he is certain of victory, smirking in his corner of the tent!

As the bones landed, a shaft of light cut across the tent interior. Could it be, the hand of the gods pointing the way?

The five gamblers turned their heads as one; it was no god, but a woman. Trickster’s insides shriveled. It was his wife, her face dark and disapproving against the whites and golds of the winter sky.

Look! Deft Hands pointed at the center of their circle. Someone had lifted the small pot that Trickster used to hold his bones. Prudent Song had discarded it from their dishware because the crack on the side marked it as a cup of ill omen. Perhaps for drinking, Trickster had thought when he rescued it from the midden heap, going on to throw many winning tosses with it. But today, Prudent Song had been right.

I have thrown four, Deft Hands declared. Trickster has thrown three.

The lack of expression on his face increased Trickster’s humiliation. He stared at his dice, which lay forlornly on their convex broad side.

This game has ended. As agreed, in six days, Trickster shall relinquish to me…

During the lengthy catalogue, Trickster shriveled beneath Prudent Song’s glare; she was the sun, and he, a worm squirming