Chapter 7 The Fire of God #4
“What are you afraid of? You might have been in a pack with one of them once, but those days are finished. In truth, they probably never were real, except perhaps in your mind. They are not capable of loyalty. You might have been in a pack, but your master never was.”
“I loved her,” Chester cried out in a choked, strangled voice. “I really did.”
“I know you did,” Blacktail said. “But your two-legs was only a low beast, whatever you might have thought. It could not love you back. That one there may look afraid to you, but you see only the reflection of your heart. It can’t feel pain the way we do.
It has no soul. Run it down and end this.
You could be a hunter, Chester,” Blacktail said gently. “You could be strong.”
With an anguished bark that rang out over the desert, Chester set off after his prey.
Even as weak as he was, he caught the two-legs after only a few paces.
It heard him coming and screamed again. Chester was surprised to find that the sound ignited his heart.
He struck at the man without thinking once, then again.
The wounds weren’t so much, but the two-legs fell to the ground. Blood squirted from its ruined forepaw. The smell reawakened Chester’s appetite. Suddenly he was mad with hunger. He tore into the meat of its hind leg, trying to rip off a mouthful.
The two-legs wasted no more energy in screams. It pounded on Chester as best it was able, starting with just its good paw.
After a few moments it began using the ruined one as well.
Chester’s blood was high now. He snapped at the blows with a ferocity that surprised him.
Wasn’t I dying just yesterday? he wondered.
At first he was losing the fight. He felt hope slipping away.
He started to think, Surely Blacktail will save—but cut the thought off.
No. This hunt is mine.
Just then the two-legs, perhaps tiring, moved a little slow in drawing back its wounded paw.
Chester sank his teeth deep into the shredded flesh, whipped his head from side to side.
The two-legs’ good paw pounded against his ribs for a time, but the blows were weak and ineffectual.
The pain will soon make it sleep, Chester thought. I’m doing it!
Then something hit him very hard in the side, and he went flying. He came to rest almost two bounds away, and looked up, a little dazed.
The female stood by her mate with a thick stick in her hand. Her scent was like nothing he had ever smelled on one of them, a hot, killing rage. Blood dripped from a sharp knot on the stick.
Chester scented the air and realized with surprise that the blood was his own.
It hit me! he thought dazedly. Then, This one smells a bit like my mate. I wonder if she might want to play chewtoy? Probably not. He was seized with a sudden urge to crawl to her, to lick her paws, to subjugate himself.
The two-legs bared her teeth and stepped toward him. When its shadow was close enough to block out the setting sun, it raised the stick over its head.
Chester snarled and struck at its legs as best he was able, bracing himself for the final blow.
The next thing happened so fast it took him a moment to sort out what happened. One moment he was striking at the low parts of the two-legs, enthusiastically but without much effect. The next moment his teeth snapped on empty air.
Chester panned his head from side to side. There was the blood trail. It led to the male, who lay unconscious in a spreading pool of blood…but the female was nowhere to be seen. Chester twisted his head left, then right. What, did it fly away?
Only when he had turned all the way around did he see.
There, a full four paces away, Blacktail stood over the female.
She lay on her back with her paws in the air.
She was pounding at Blacktail with her front paws and kicking the air with her rear, her screams echoing back and forth among the stones.
Then came a popping sound as some bone ripped loose.
A red stream flew into the air. A moment later the screams stopped, and she fell still.
Blacktail raised his head. His muzzle was stained bright red with blood. He licked his chops and grinned at Chester. “That wasn’t bad, for a first attempt,” he said. “I had a feeling about you. Come, Chester. One for you and one for me. The feast awaits.”
Chester, grinning, set upon his kill. He ate until he thought he might burst. The feel of hot meat slipping down his throat was sweet beyond description.
When it was done, he had eaten an amazingly large portion of the male’s body, perhaps half.
Perhaps even a bit more. He sighed and lay back on his side.
Blacktail was sitting on his haunches a few paces away.
He looked as though he’d been waiting for more than a few breaths.
“I have never seen such an appetite,” Blacktail said.
“I have not eaten a true meal since the winter,” Chester said. His stomach had inflated visibly. It looked like there was a melon between his ribs and hindquarters.
“Perhaps you should not have gorged yourself so. That wound is deep,” Blacktail said.
Chester looked down at his side. The hole where the two-legs struck him had stopped bleeding, but it was wide and bloody. One flap of fur hung loose. Underneath that he saw a glint of white rib. He looked from it to Blacktail. “Do you think I’ll die from it?”
Blacktail sniffed the wound. “Perhaps not,” he said, but his tone was grim.
“But perhaps so?”
“Yes. Perhaps so.”
Chester thought about it for a time. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we? At least I’m not starving anymore.”
Blacktail wagged his tail. “I suppose you’re right. Take care to clean it as well as you can.”
“I will. Could you use a rest? I’m about to fall down.”
“Yes. Me as well. A good hunt will do that.”
“We’re not far from the creek—it curves back upon itself in these rocks. The sands are soft, and I think the sound there is pleasant.”
“To the creek, then.”
That night they slept on warm rocks sheltered by a cliff. The sound of the running water carried them off to sleep.
iv
Chester woke well before Blacktail, perhaps because he had done little but sleep since the last full moon. Even with the wound in his side, he felt better than he had in a long time. He felt little urge to move. He lay still with his eyes open for a long time, watching the sun of this new day rise.
He could feel Blacktail’s presence, an enormous bulk a little distance away. The hunter was remarkably silent even when he slept. His chest rose and fell with slow, regular breaths that were almost entirely soundless. That made what came next even more startling.
Blacktail jerked once in his sleep, his forepaws twitching as if he were trying to run.
He called out then, a high, desperate sound—nothing like his normal voice—and jerked his head from side to side.
Chester rolled over, alarmed. The twitches grew into a thrashing storm.
Sometimes Blacktail seemed to be trying to run.
Other times he struck out, fighting at something that wasn’t there.
Finally he lay still, moaning, as if caught in an inescapable trap.
Chester approached him slowly, cringing with each step, each sound. “Lord Hunter?”
In his sleep, Blacktail mumbled something.
“Please, wake up,” Chester said softly. “Please.”
“…Joy-Hop…” Blacktail mumbled. Chester heard him quite clearly, though the words meant nothing to him.
“Blacktail!” Chester called out. “Lord Hunter, wake up! It’s only a dream!”
But Blacktail was beyond hearing. His thrashings were such that Chester saw no clear path to approach him, but he did not feel it was right to let the one who had saved him suffer so. Chester set his jaw and walked in between the kicking legs, then nuzzled Blacktail gently on his cheek.
The instant Chester’s nose brushed his fur, Blacktail erupted.
He was on his feet quicker than a blink, quicker than lightning, quicker than anything Chester had ever seen.
His jaws stretched open, a wide pit of nightmare fangs that had no bottom.
The fury in his eyes shone brighter than an exploding sun.
His roar rolled over the Starving Rocks like the opening of the gates of hell.
That thing is no wolf, Chester thought. I don’t know what that thing is.
Chester fell trembling in the soft sand and closed his eyes against the sight. “Please,” he begged. “Please, lord, I meant no offense. You were having a…a bad dream…and…”
“It’s all right, Chester.” Blacktail’s tone was calm, conversational. “Don’t be afraid. I’m sorry I startled you.”
Startled? Chester thought. Startled? I’ve wet myself. But after a long moment, he was able to pry one eye open. Blacktail stood there calmly. His head was cocked a little to one side, concerned.
“Are you all right?”
“I…I…Lord, you were…ah…dreaming. I think.”
“Yes, I sometimes dream,” he said. “You shouldn’t concern yourself. Anyway, you needn’t address me so. We’re friends now. I’m not your king.”
Chester studied him a long moment. He drew in a deep breath. “Very well. As you say.”
Blacktail trotted over to the creek and took a long drink, then stretched himself forward in a deep bow that crackled the bones of his back. “Ah. Much better.” He raised one leg and relieved himself against a rock. “Do you still have an appetite?” he asked as he peed.
“I could eat.”
“Good. We’ll need to do something about those bodies.”
“Do what? Eat them?”
“Yes, eat what we can, and perhaps carry away a bone or two for later. But then we’ll scatter whatever’s left. Carry the pieces far from the sight of the trail, or perhaps drop them down a hole.”
Chester looked at him doubtfully. “If you say so.”