Chapter 2 The Son of Snow
The Son of Snow
i
When Blacktail thudded to the ground on the other side of the wall, he found a gray house cat waiting in the dry grass.
“Good morning,” the cat said. “Unless you do exactly as I say, you will be deader than moose shit before the sun goes down.” He raised one of his paws, examined it, and licked it thoughtfully.
Ragged and bloody, Blacktail drew himself up to his full height.
His shadow fell over the little cat. The cat did not run, only sat on his haunches and looked up at him with flat yellow eyes.
Blacktail considered killing him—for form’s sake, if nothing else—but decided against it.
He was bone weary and had no appetite for the blood of cats. “Hmph,” he said, and turned to go.
“Where are you going, Blacktail?” the cat asked. “Back to your hill? You must not do that. They will surely find you there.”
Blacktail stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “Who will find me there?” he asked. “And how do you know my name?”
“Men, of course. They will kill you, you know. They kill everything, sooner or later.” The cat gave his paw another quick lick and put it down, satisfied.
“In answer to your second question, your name was given to me by the Old Kitty Mother.” The cat glanced up, gauging Blacktail’s reaction to this last.
“Who?”
“You do not know of the Old Kitty Mother?”
“Never heard of her.”
“Strange,” the cat said. “She is a great witch, first among cats and—”
In a flash, Blacktail’s muzzle was a whisker’s length from the cat’s nose, all blood and fangs. “I…eat…cats,” he snarled. “Frequently. With great pleasure.”
Still, the cat did not run. “I am aware of that,” he said. “You devoured a cousin of mine last spring. Do you recall? Willie? He was a tabby? Pleasant fellow, good sense of humor?”
Blacktail squinted at him suspiciously and gave a low growl. “I don’t remember,” he said. “You prey types all blur together after a while.”
“Ah. Of course,” the cat said. “Well. No matter, I suppose. The point is that the Old Kitty Mother is aware of your appetites as well. If you hunger before your long journey, she commands that I am to offer myself as your next meal.”
“She commands that you—and you do it?” Blacktail blinked and shook his head. “I will never understand cats.”
“The Old Kitty Mother’s instructions are”—the cat swallowed hard—“somewhat unusual. But there are worse things than death.”
“I see,” Blacktail said, though he didn’t. Then, after a moment, “Don’t worry yourself, little fellow. I just ate.”
“Thank you, lord,” the cat said. “I am most pleased to hear this.”
“What was that you said about a journey? I’m not going anywhere except home.”
“You really haven’t any idea what you’ve done, do you?”
Blacktail leaned in close. “Why don’t you explain it to me?” He spoke softly, and displayed more teeth than was strictly necessary.
The cat didn’t flinch, only glanced over Blacktail’s shoulder at the house. “Did you leave any survivors?”
“No,” Blacktail said. “I ended their family as they ended mine.”
“That was wise. When men come, they will not know exactly what manner of creature they seek. But they are clever, and they will find your trail soon enough. When they do…”
“When they do, I will be the hunted,” Blacktail said grimly. “I take your meaning now.”
“Lord Hunter, I am not sure that you do.”
“You have my attention,” Blacktail said. He moved back to a less threatening distance, settled on his haunches. “Speak.”
The cat swished his tail. “Thank you, lord,” he said. “Let me begin by saying that I do not speak only for myself, but also convey the will and wishes of the Old Kitty Mother. She honors my Lord Hunter, and demands all others treat him in kind. She also, ah…” The cat trailed off.
“What?”
“She commands me to apologize.”
“For what?”
The cat set his jaw. “These are her words: ‘Lord Hunter, please forgive me for sending this perfumed idiot to act as my messenger. I took his measure some years ago and found him lacking in ways too numerous to list here, but at the moment he is the best that I can do. Had there been more time I would have greatly preferred to send someone worthy into your esteemed presence but alas, I am a bit rushed. Respectfully yours. Et cetera.’ ”
Blacktail considered this for a moment. “What’s your name, little fellow?”
“Snooky-Ookums, lord.”
“Snooky-Ookums, this Old Kitty Mother of yours is something of a terror, isn’t she?”
“I would rather not say, if you don’t mind.”
“That’s fine. But feel free to skim over any further humiliations she may have laid on you. I won’t tell.”
“Thank you, lord.”
“Don’t mention it. Now, what exactly is this all about?”
“Lord, the Old Kitty Mother fears that you may underestimate the vengeance of man. Long and long have the two-legs subjugated these lands with none to challenge them. Even the oldest of them have no memory of what it is to be prey. They will not thank you for this reminder, I think.”
Blacktail offered a thin, cold smile. “Perhaps not.”
The cat purred. “Perhaps not, indeed. I wonder, what are we to make of you, Blacktail, we cats who no longer hunt? My father lived wild and died wild, but I myself dwell in a house of men. I take their food, sleep in their dens, and in turn they take liberty to soil me with their paws and chastise me when the mood suits them. Oh, it’s survival, true enough.
And I suppose it’s small of me to complain when so many suffer worse under their hand, but…
sometimes I think of my father. It would be difficult to explain my choice to him, even when there was no real choice at all. Do you see?”
Blacktail’s eyes narrowed. He wagged his tail once in understanding, though perhaps not sympathy.
“But tonight the Old Kitty Mother stirred my dreams. She showed me what you have done, and a little of what is to come. I woke to the sound of men screaming as only prey scream. As I drew near to you, I found the scent of their terror on the night breeze. I think that even my masters smelled it. They were uneasy in their rest, though I doubt that they understand why. And my kittens, who might have been proud, ask among themselves ‘What is this strange new thing? What manner of beast is it that dares to hunt man?’ ” The cat shook his head bitterly.
“ ‘Dares to hunt man.’ They get it from their mother, no doubt. If I had known what poor heirs she would give me I would have killed her, not mounted her.”
Blacktail lashed out with his forepaw and slapped the cat across his ribs, hard enough that he bounced off the wooden planks of the fence and yowled in pain.
“Never say such things,” Blacktail rumbled. “Your kittens are a great gift. No matter what you may think of them, they still carry hope for your bloodline. Many of your betters have not been so fortunate. Remember that.”
“Apologies, lord,” the cat said quietly. “I meant no offense.”
Blacktail swished his tail in acknowledgment. “This hunt they raise against me—will it truly be so much?”
“The Old Kitty Mother believes so. In my dream it was very great indeed. The two-legs rather enjoy coming together against beasts, I think. It reminds them of the old days, when there were more of us to kill. For a slaughter such as this, there will be no limits on their rage. Very soon the hills and valleys will boil with them, and there will be no safe place in all the land.”
“If the day has come when a two-legs can best me in matters of woodcraft, then perhaps I deserve to die.”
“Lord, if that were all there were to it, no one doubts that you would conquer. But men have many slave animals, foolish dogs with weak minds but clever noses. Not one of them might match your skill at the hunt, but together…”
“Ah,” Blacktail said grimly. “I take your meaning. With the noses of dogs guiding the gunshots of the two-legs, the small forests left in this world will become smaller still.” He sighed. “Tell this Old Kitty Mother of yours that I thank her for the warning.”
“No thanks are necessary. But the Old Kitty Mother also offers her assistance in this matter. If you permit, she might be able to smooth your path a little.”
“If you think you can help, then by all means do.” Blacktail turned as if to leave, then turned back. “Oh, and cat?”
“Yes, lord?”
“Where am I to find this Old Kitty Mother?”
“Lord, the Old Kitty Mother is not without craft. She encourages you to attend to your own safety. When the time is right, she will find you.”
“Very well, then,” Blacktail said, and walked away into the snow. His first thought was to head north, back toward home, but then he thought better of it. Not there, he thought. At least…not yet. So instead he turned south. The forests were thinner that way, but…
I am the hunted now.
ii
Even among the other bloodhounds, Rex and Cephus were regarded as having gifted noses. Few spoke as kindly of their brains.
Rex and Cephus were of the same litter. They had been showing their master, a man they thought of as “Dad,” the true path to his prey since they were pups.
At least in their minds, the three of them were a pack.
Rex and Cephus acted as the nose and ears.
Dad, who understood about gunshots, served as the tooth and claw.
They slept on the floor of his den on cloth that bore his scent.
When Dad’s mate was away, sometimes he called them into bed with him and they slept together as a pack should, even though it angered his mate greatly.
Dad woke them before dawn. He was excited; his eyes wild and wide, his hands shaking as he put on their leashes.
He licked his lips a couple of times while he gathered up the guns.
Cephus thought he’d caught a whiff of horny-scent when he packed them all into the hindquarters of Car.
Now they sped along the black path into the foothills where they did most of their hunting.
“Is it a hunt, do you think?” Rex asked.
Cephus pondered this. “I guess?” he said, then poked his nose out the window. “Smell that?”
Rex took a sniff of his own. “Bunny! More than one, I think!”