Chapter 2 The Son of Snow #5
“Yes,” Blacktail said. “I think so. They will pass me by, thinking I am a rock or a bush. The hemlock and bison will mask my smell.”
“That’s the idea.”
“Will it work?”
“Well,” Slipper said dryly, “I know a hare who used it against you last winter. It worked well enough.”
Blacktail scowled at first, then smiled. “It must be an excellent trick, then.”
“Was that a joke?”
“No.”
“Good. I’d hate to think you’re getting soft.”
“You needn’t worry about that,” Blacktail said. “And, Slipper?”
“Yes?”
“I, ah, that is to say…thank you. Really.”
Slipper smiled. “No bother. When this is done, we’ll sit down and you can tell me what men taste like.”
Blacktail trotted over and settled into a little hole next to the hemlock. The bison was well rotted but not yet frozen. The odor hung thick in the air. Blacktail lay still, just as Slipper had instructed. In only a little time he resembled nothing so much as a mound of snow.
Not long after the first of the two-legs drifted, silent and dreamlike, through the snow off to his right. Slowly, taking great care not to dislodge even a single snowflake, Blacktail closed his eyes.
They did not speak, these men, nor did they stink of fermented yeast as had the one in the tree.
They smelled of gunshots. The only sound of their passing was the crunch of snow beneath their feet.
Sometimes Blacktail fancied that he could feel the weight of their gaze when it fell upon him, cold and murderous.
Perhaps he did. What was it the cat said?
I have reminded men what it is to be prey.
These two-legs know what I did, he thought.
They intend to kill me for it if they can.
Blacktail wondered how much snow had fallen to cover him. He wondered if his tail stuck out.
Eventually they were gone.
A few breaths later more of them came, moving in from the left, closer this time.
Blacktail smelled a sour tinge of man-sweat, heard two-legs crunch through snow only a pace away.
He made himself small inside, as prey beasts have ever done when the shadow of the hunter falls upon them.
He prepared himself for his final attack.
He wondered if Slipper would be able to get away in the commotion.
But these also passed him by, and the next, and the ones after that.
As Slipper had instructed, Blacktail waited for him to break cover.
They waited until long after the last men had passed by and the baying of the hounds was only an echo in the hills.
The cold sank through his fur, into his flesh, settled into his bones.
Only when the sun began to sink below the horizon did Slipper rise. He shook the snow off his fur.
Blacktail slipped out from under his bush and padded over to join him.
“That was closer than I would have liked,” Slipper admitted. “I didn’t expect to see so many.”
“No matter,” Blacktail said. “You’ve done it, old fellow.” He bent down and licked Slipper affectionately on the muzzle.
“Yes, I have, haven’t I?” Slipper said, wiping off spit with his forepaw. “Never do that again.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine. But don’t do it again. Ever.” Slipper looked around, cautious, sniffing the air. “Do you see anything? My eyes aren’t—Well. Never mind. Do you?”
Blacktail had been scanning as well. “No. Not that I can see. Nothing.”
“Excellent! It seems we’re clear. As much as I’d like a cozy afternoon nap, we probably shouldn’t waste this. We’ve a bit of daylight left before—”
Blacktail saw something kick up the snow beside him. A moment later, he heard the crack of a gunshot.
“Ah, crap,” Slipper said. “Come on!” He set off at a hard run, moving toward the ridgeline.
“What was it?” Blacktail asked.
“I don’t know! Perhaps a straggler, perhaps one that lay in wait! Does it really matter?”
Blacktail shut up and ran.
They outdistanced the first two-legs quickly. No sooner was that done than they nearly ran into another one who stepped out from behind a tree.
Slipper skidded to a stop. “Oh, fuck.”
The man raised the thing that made gunshots.
Blacktail leapt over Slipper and crashed into the man, snapped his jaws closed around his face as he knocked him to the earth. The man screamed and beat at him with its forepaws. Blacktail’s blood rose at the feel of it.
The red moon rose again. Bone crunched under his jaws.
“Come on, you idiot!” Slipper screamed.
Blacktail spat out a chunk of flesh into the man’s bleeding, terrified eyes, then ran on. You’re lucky, monster, he thought. I’ve no more time for killing this day.
Slipper had a bit of a lead now. Blacktail’s heart strained as he sprinted up the steep ridge. Another gunshot cracked off to the right.
“Tell me,” Slipper gasped as they moved. “How you feel…about heights?”
Blacktail, lungs burning, answered in kind. “Hate…them.”
“What…a…pity,” Slipper said. “There’s a surprise up ahead. Follow me and don’t stop.”
A few breaths later they crested the ridge.
Blacktail skidded to a stop. At its highest point, the south side of the ridge was a sheer cliff.
At the bottom, many paces down below, the valley stretched out.
It looked quiet, no men that he saw, no dogs—but the drop was sheer, and the fall seemed twice or three times the distance that would kill him.
Slipper, however, launched himself off the cliff with a smooth, fluid leap. The sound of his laughter trailed off as he fell away.
Blacktail’s eyes widened. He peeked over the edge and saw Slipper, far below, rolling out of a deep snowdrift, still laughing, apparently unhurt. He called back up. “Come on! Get a running start.”
Blacktail drew back a few steps. His stomach churned. He heard himself whine a little, hating the sound of it. I can’t do this, he thought. It’s too—
Another gunshot dug a hole in the snow in just beside him, heart-stoppingly close.
Still he hesitated. He turned to look behind him, thinking maybe I can—
But no. The two-legs had set loose their hounds, a dozen or more. He thought he might be able to kill them. Possibly. But the man stood still, carefully pointing the gunshot stick at him. For a bare instant he stared into its single, unblinking eye…. Then he jumped.
He fell for what seemed like forever, heart rising sick in his chest, snowy earth spinning by on all sides.
He curled into a ball when he landed, and it was well that he did.
The drift was deep indeed. Slipper had likely not even come close to plumbing its depths.
But Blacktail was many times Slipper’s size.
He hit the bottom hard, knocking the breath out of his chest, and rolled over quite a few rocks before poking his head above the snow.
Slipper stood a few paces away, grinning at him. “Hah! Surprised you, didn’t I? My mum showed me that trick. Haven’t tried it in quite a while, though. Oof,” he grunted. Blacktail saw that he was now favoring his right rear paw a bit. “It was easier when I was young.”
“How did you know the drifts were deep enough?”
Slipper grinned wickedly. “I didn’t.”
Thunder cracked out across the valley. Blacktail saw another little puff of snow rise up a pace or so behind Slipper.
“You’d think he’d give us a moment to collect ourselves,” Slipper said sourly. “I’m heading for the tree line, O large one. Come along when you’ve a mind.”
Blacktail dug himself out of the snow as fast as he was able. He took off after Slipper. There was enough of a coat of ice that Slipper could mostly walk along the surface, but Blacktail was reduced to bounding through snow as deep as his chest. It slowed him, sapped his strength.
The two-legs stopped peppering the snow with gunshots after only a few leaps.
Blacktail’s spirits rose at the sweet silence, and he felt a flicker of hope.
Then he heard an unnatural buzzing in the sky.
He twisted his neck to look behind him and saw an enormous flying beast bearing down on him at great speed.
They’re not done yet.
He turned back and began bounding again, feeling slow and silly in the deep snow.
“What the hell is that thing?” Slipper screamed.
“How should I know!?” Blacktail screamed back. He imagined it swooping down to carry him off in its claws.
“Run!” Slipper screamed.
Blacktail ran. Over and over again he arched through the deep snow, like a salmon straining its way upstream.
But even at his best speed, with his heart hammering in his chest and his lungs aflame, the sky-thing had no trouble keeping up.
It hovered just overhead, the beat of its enormous wings whipping the snow into a small blizzard.
Slipper beckoned him from under the cover of the trees, tantalizingly close.
Blacktail looked over his shoulder. One of the men was leaning out of the body of the great bird.
Hmm, he thought. There’s something you don’t see every day.
A gunshot rang out. The bolt struck well in front of him.
Then came another, still far off to the side…
. Then suddenly he was under a canopy of trees.
The snow was thinner in the forest. After a few paces he could abandon the exhausting bounds and simply run.
In just a few steps his speed tripled. The great bird could not see him so well with branches overhead, however sparse and barren.
After a series of turns and double-backs, it lost sight of them.
They were able to put a little distance between it and them.
Slipper ducked under a bush, panting great clouds of breath into the cold air. “Quick…breather.”
“Fine…idea.”
Not far away the sky beast circled, back and forth, round and round.
“Well, that was exciting, wasn’t it?” Slipper said, catching his breath. “Quite a different experience on this side of the hunt, no?”
“Hmm. I prefer things the other way ’round.”
Slipper laughed a little and licked him on the muzzle. “That’s the spirit! You are loosening up a bit.”
Blacktail smiled wanly.