MuTerra

place he could to position himself in case he was attacked. When he saw a flash of brown behind him, he knew it was not the wolf; not one flash, but three moving quickly through the trees. He jumped on top of one of the great stones, turned, and waited to face whatever it was with his spear in hand.

They slowed as they saw their element of surprise was gone. They did not move or act like the wild dogs of the prairie. These were cats. They were light brown, almost yellow, similar in color to a cougar, but with twice the bulk. There was no misunderstanding their intention. They stopped when they saw he had taken to higher ground, but only for a moment.

Methodically they spread out to surround their target. When they had reached their desired positions, they attacked with silent accord. But not all of them focused their attack on him. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw a large black mass swiftly closing in. He could not pay too much attention to what was happening outside of his immediate area as he had his hands full. His first swing at the cat was with the butt end of the spear. It was a solid blow to the front of the animal, which only succeeded in deflecting its first lunge. When it turned on him again, Bishop knew he had no time to waste because there was more than one to deal with. The cat came forward, mouth opened wide, exposing an impressive array of teeth which he intended to use on his victim. Bishop bent his spear forward, and drove it into the maw of the cat running forward as he did, pinning it to the earth. He held the animal secure with the spear in one hand while removing one of his knives to thrust into the lion’s ear with the other. It was dead a moment later.

Regaining his composure, and trying to clear his head from the adrenaline surge, he saw the unexpected scene playing out before him. One of the other lions was lying dead not far away. Its neck was unmistakably broken as it was contorted at an awkward angle. The other lion was busy trying to escape its new enemy. The great black wolf was snarling and dripping fresh blood from his mouth while keeping the lion at bay. Whenever the lion tried to escape, the wolf would leap ahead and use it sharp front claws to rake its hindquarters. It was surprisingly faster than the lion. Bishop could see deep crimson scratches on both sides of the cat while the wolf looked unscathed.

When the cat knew it could not get away, it turned to face the wolf. Without a second thought, Bishop grabbed his knife by its blade and threw it at the cat. The razor sharp blade sunk hilt deep into the beast near the middle of his rib cage. As soon as the cat let out a cry and turned to see where this new threat had come from, the wolf snatched the cat by its neck, and violently shook him up into the air, and back down again, breaking its neck in the process. The wolf turned to look at Bishop as he walked to retrieve his knife. He growled at him as he had done earlier in the day, but this time with fresh blood and fur lining his maw.

“I take it this is your way of thanking me,” Bishop said to the wolf with a slight grin on his face.

The wolf stopped growling and stared at this human who had shown no fear of him, who had in fact helped him. He stayed a moment longer then turned, went to the largest of the cats, picked it up as if it weighed nothing, and walked off.

“Okay boy. Eat well, and thanks.”

Bishop looked at the other two animals. There was no way he could carry them both, but he could take their hides, and de-bone them to get as much meat as possible to take along with him. He made a mental note to himself that not one creature he had come upon out here displayed any kind of fear. If he encountered something unfriendly, he would have to kill it and kill it quickly. He looked down and noticed his pants were shredded along his right leg. The cat I killed evidently got in a few swipes before he died. There was no pain, but there was blood. He would clean it when he came to the next water source.

As he was accustomed to do from hunting in years past, he cleaned out both animals removing their entrails and drained any remaining blood. After the second one was finished, he stood up and saw he was no longer alone. This was another aspect of adjusting to his heightened senses. Because they were so acute, he often worked to shut out things that did not affect him. One way he accomplished this was by keeping his mind engaged on other thoughts as he had been caught doing now.

There were seven men loosely encircling him. They were a rough looking bunch but did not appear to be threatening. It was evident that they suffered from some of the effects of exposure, but nothing like the other human creatures he saw feeding on the wild dog. He did not know if that was a natural ability or something determined by location. They had a mixture of homemade weapons, some of which were fashioned as crossbows. They were not pointed directly at him, but it would only take a slight adjustment to make that so.

“Can I help you,” Bishop said with as much calm as he could while closing the distance between him and his spear.

“Who are you,” The oldest looking member of the group asked. He was a light haired man and spoke English with a foreign accent.

“Name’s Bishop. Who are you?”

“Where do you come from,” the stranger asked.

Bishop decided he was going to be the one providing answers and he saw no reason to be hostile yet, since they were at least still talking. For some reason, he did not sense a threat in these men.

“North,” Bishop said pointing in that direction.

“You should not have done,” another man said pointing to the dead lions.

Bishop assumed they were sacred or something and that things were about to get interesting.

“I’m sorry if they mean something to you, they attacked me. I didn’t attack them. Three on one isn’t good odds, so I had to do what I had to do.”

“Three,” the other man questioned. “I see two.”

“Yeah, well, I had a little help. He took one with him,” Bishop said a bit lamely.

“The wolf,” the stranger asked in surprise.

“Yeah, the wolf.”

He turned to talk to two of the other men while those with the cross bows kept their weapons ready. When the brief exchange was finished, he turned back to Bishop. “We’ll take cats.”

“I beg your pardon,” Bishop said getting himself ready for more unpleasant business.

“You took our wolf, we’ll take cats,” he said in a firm manner.

Bishop realized that these were the men who set the trap; the one he sprung. He decided it was only fair. He was sure it would not be long until other trouble found him anyway. These people seemed as normal as he would likely find out here, and he did not need to make an enemy out of everyone.

“Okay. They’re yours. I thought you said ‘I should not have done’ before. Are these cats special or something?”

It took a moment until the stranger understood what he was referring to. “No. You bleed them,” he said pointing to the ground. “Much blood; Raveners come quickly.”

“Raveners,” Bishop asked.

“Raveners like us, but not like us,” he explained.

“Mohctp,” another one said.

Bishop thought about it. He must mean those creatures I saw on the plains and in the cave. I was right. It is the blood. Something else I’ll have to remember.

“Why the wolf no attack you?” one of the men asked.

“I don’t know. I have a way with people sometimes. Maybe some of that rubbed off on him,” Bishop said in his dry manner. It was clear that his wit did not register among this crowd.

The stranger gave commands as four of his men tied the two lions to wooden poles to make it easier to transport. Bishop walked to pick up his spear and was a little surprised when he was not challenged. They must believe I’m of little threat to them considering their numbers. That was fine. I’m glad to have some company. More than likely, I’m extra support in case they run into something more dangerous than I am.

They walked at a fast pace and continued on in the southerly direction he was heading. One of the crew remained at the rear. He was able to keep an eye on this newcomer, and their back trail at the same time. Bishop was content to let the others do the watching for him. If they were going to be hostile toward him, they would have already done something. If he were wrong about that then he would know soon enough.

—

The wolf remained at a distance listening to the humans speak. Once they were gone, he returned to feed on some of what they had left on the ground. He ate both of the livers and the hearts, leaving most of the rest. He was