by Joseph Anderson

All characters from Xena: Warrior Princess are the property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended with this fan fiction which may not be sold, may be copied for personal use only, and must contain all notices of copyright.

This is an uber story. It isn't exactly a sequel but it contains characters from my story Shybear, and might be confusing if you haven't read that and Reunion. This story contains violence and rough language.

The trappers looked with relief at each other and nervously down river, then clambered out of their canoe, cursing as they slipped in the ice cold water. They hadn't even made it away with their season's furs.

"We escaped, Jacques! From that devil! What did they call him?" The speaker was a heavily bearded man with a red face.

Jacques took his fur cap off and brushed snow off it. "Black Heart That Found The Light. That's what they called him, Alain." He was tall and thin with a long nose. He scratched his dark beard. "I'm not so sure we escaped. He could've killed us any of those times he left our traps for us to find when we woke up. I think he missed on purpose with the arrows."

Alain muttered, "That's mad."

"I thought it was a woman," Pierre interjected. He was gripping his long flintlock tightly and still staring anxiously down river. Like the others he was dressed in furs.

"The little yellow haired squaw probably just said that to insult us," Jacques said. "You saw the way she looked at me."

"Why would he send his squaw to warn us away? Why not cut our throats in our sleep like he did Fitzwilliams and Carey?" Alain said, scratching the back of his neck and continuing to look around apprehensively.

"How should I know? Maybe, she asked him to," Jacques said sarcastically, then added, "I'm glad we didn't take her like you wanted to when you first saw her, Pierre. I don't care how much she would bring." Pierre grimaced and nodded.

They heard a sound and turned to look at the trees by the river bank but at first didn't see anything. Then a female savage nervously came into view. The fur trappers looked at each other and grinned but were apprehensive. She might not be alone.

"We won't hurt you. Is your village near, little one?" Jacques said, ingratiatingly in the language of the tribe they had just fled. He hoped she understood. He imagined her breasts and the hair between her legs.

The Indian looked frightened and looked around as if to flee. The men moved to surround her. She finally answered in the same dialect. "My village is far away. I was traveling with my husband but he was injured hunting. Now I am alone tending to him."

The trappers began grinning as they looked the girl up and down. Traveling was dangerous and accidents common. What she said ringed true. But she was stupid to have told strangers that, stupid to have let them see her since she was so pretty. She was more slender than these savages often were, but with large breasts, thick black hair and beautiful large brown eyes. She smiled nervously, and they thought she must have realized her mistake because there was something wrong about the way it looked.

"What a pretty smile you have, squaw," Jacques now said arrogantly and struck a pose, showing the others how it's done. The eyes flashed at his tone and the word, and her smile got wider. It must be fear, he knew, but somehow it felt different.

Smiling Wild Eyes was enjoying herself toying with these scavengers. She had returned from a month of raiding in the west and finally washed the warpaint from her face and the yellow clay from her hair. The scalps she had taken were drying back at her lodge. She was dressed again in the soft doeskins of a maid because her buckskins were so slashed and covered with blood they were of no more use. She would have more made by a nearby village. In return she would not kill them all. They appreciated her generosity.

"What's your name?" Pierre said and walked up to roughly grab her arm. He had already spotted the log he intended to tie her over.

Smiling Wild Eyes made a fearful mewling sound. The young men of the village were off hunting. She knew that without her to protect them, these dogs would go to the village and kill the few old men present, rape the women and take all of their furs. She would have them make her a fine war lance too since she was defending them from these walking bear turds.

Pierre reached behind her and squeezed her ass. Smiling Wild Eyes did not stop him. Rather she showed her famous smile as she began to imagine what she would do to this one. She would see how insulting they became to decide how badly to punish them and who to punish the most. She would save that one for last so he could see what she did to the others. Smiling Wild Eyes was killing more and more of these filthy dogs. They seemed to be everywhere and more kept coming.

"Doe That Licks," she answered and made her voice quaver as if in fear and nervously wrang her hands. She heard an appreciative lip smacking sound from two of them.

Alain now said in French, "Think she knows anything about Black Heart That Found The Light?"

"Ask her yourself," Jacques said. He looked at the girl who had finally realized her position it seemed. She'd gone rigid and begun to bare her teeth and her eyes had gotten wide. It still felt wrong though. Jacque had never seen terror look quite that way.

She pulled herself free from Pierre who wasn't expecting her strength. The squaw surprised them by roughly saying in French, "What of Black Heart That Found The Light? Why do you wish to know of the warrior?" Smiling Wild Eyes looked at their canoe which was empty as if they had fled without preparation.

"You have been driven from her hunting grounds. And now you come here...thinking that Smiling Wild Eyes is less than Black Heart That Found The Light! Thinking she will let you foul her streams, take her game and steal her horses. That is what you filthy white eyes think!"

"What the devil is going on, Jacques?" Pierre said nervously. He grabbed at the girl again but she nimbly moved out of his reach.

"You think you escaped but the warrior let you go. Black Heart That Found The Light did not want to dirty her fine hatchet on offal like you! So she drove you here to insult me! What of Annoying Yellow Hair Of Small Stature?"

"That was the white squaw's name," Pierre said.

Alain said, "Wasn't there talk about this Smiling Wild Eyes? They were scared of him."

Jacques nodded, remembering the stories. "The Shadow Warrior. That's what they called him...or her." Then he said, "Move away from her, Pierre." Jacques kept his hands in front of him. "Keep your hands where she can see them."

The two other trappers didn't understand but Jacques was far more experienced than they were with the redskins.

Alain said, "It's just a squaw, Jacques."

Jacques was sweating even though it was cold enough for them to see their breath. He shook his head, wishing Alain had said almost anything else. "Smiling Wild Eyes, we did not come to steal your horses or take your game. We will leave your hunting grounds. Take this fine flintlock, Smiling Wild Eyes, as a gift. Give her yours, Pierre. She'll know it's our best."

Pierre spat and said, "I'm not giving my flintlock to some little squaw we all planned on fucking a minute ago! What the devil...." He didn't finish his sentence but instead began screaming and rolling on the ground. Smiling Wild Eyes stood over him, a knife in one hand which had been concealed in her doeskins. Pierre's scalp was in her other hand. She looked up at the other two and smiled. The warrior kicked Pierre in the face to force him to open his mouth and stuck his own scalp in it, wiped the knife off on his furcoat and resheathed it. Then she picked up his flintlock to examine.

Jacques hadn't moved. Alain kept throwing looks at him. Jacques was an Indian fighter or so he'd thought, but fighting seemed the last thing he wanted to do.

"The fool has been taught a well deserved lesson. Let us leave in peace now," Jacques said.

Smiling Wild Eyes was pleased. The flintlock was a fine weapon she could see, and the one speaking was very well mannered and treated her as he should when he learned who she was. She glanced at the other who was trying to slowly reach a hatchet he wore. She swung the stock of the flintlock breaking his jaw. He fell and was moaning like the one whose scalp was still in his mouth. She looked over at the well mannered one who had not moved.

"I will allow you to leave so you can tell others what happens to those who do not show proper respect."

Jacques closed his eyes in relief and began backing away from her towards the canoe. "Wherever I go, I will tell of the prowess of Smiling Wild Eyes. Farewell, warrior." She looked contemptously at him and didn't respond.

Once he was back out in the river Jacques heard a voice in his head. "You really dodged a chakram there, not that you deserved to. I can't believe scum like you is my current incarnation. I didn't think I had it in me."

Jacques spun his head around looking for who was speaking. "I'm inside you, idiot."

Who are you? the trapper thought frantically. He was afraid he was going mad.

"Joxer the Mighty," the voice came back disgustedly. "I was hoping you'd get killed long ago. Talking to you makes me want to take a bath. You have a way of surviving when you shouldn't though, like I always do. So I'm gonna start talking to you and see if maybe I can raise you up from being a murdering piece of garbage to just being a creep. I don't wanna get my hopes up above that. Xena let you live and now Callisto did too. The gods know why. Just to bug me, maybe."

Floating down the river in his empty canoe, Jacques finally got used to the voice in his head. To make it stop he agreed to start working on his own version of the song.