The waving grass kept pace with Two Knives. He flew around to the front of the lodge and reached the elk- hide flap just as Dove Sings was coming out with her own bow in her hands.
“What is wrong? Why did you send Elk Running inside?
Two Knives did something he had never done before; he pushed her and barreled inside after her. Quickly, he lowered and tied the flap, knowing full well it wouldn’t stop a mountain cat the size of the black one.
“What is it?” Dove Sings asked in rising alarm.
“Devil Cat,” Two Knives said.
She looked at him as if she thought he couldn’t possibly be serious. “What are you talking about?”
Two Knives didn’t take his eyes off the flap. He stepped back and drew the bow string to his cheek. “A black cat as big as two tawny ones. It killed Fox Tail, and now it is after me.”
“Fox Tail is dead?” Dove Sings swayed and her hand rose to her throat.
Elk Running and Bright Rainbow shared her shock. The boy recovered first and came to his father’s side with his bow ready. “We will kill it together, Father.”
Two Knives was going to say no and tell the boy to move back, but two arrows were better than one. “Everyone be still.”
Outside their lodge, complete silence fell. It was so quiet that Two Knives could hear the hammering of his heart. He was afraid for his family. He was very afraid.
Then, with awful slowness, the elk hide bulged inward. Only a little way, then stopped. Two Knives could not tell whether it was the Devil Cat’s head or a paw. He was rigid with dread and his lungs would not work. He imagined the cat ripping through the hide and springing on them and tearing right and left with its claws and teeth.
Bright Rainbow gasped.
The hide was bulging again. The Devil Cat pressed harder, but the tie held and the hide only gave a hand’s width. The cat expressed its annoyance at being thwarted with a snarl. The bulge went away.
Two Knives aimed at where the cat had been pressing. His arrow would penetrate the hide. With luck it would also penetrate the cat’s skull. He drew the string as far back as he could without it breaking. Barely breathing, he held the arrow steady. His arm began to feel the strain. The hide didn’t bulge. He was focused on the spot where it had been and only on that spot. Dove Sings said something, but he did not hear what it was. The hide still didn’t bulge. His shoulder hurt, but he refused to slacken the string. He willed his arm to hold it steady. Had the Devil Cat left? he wondered. The string was digging into his fingers, but he didn’t loosen his pressure on the arrow. Then suddenly the hide bulged and he went to release, but Elk Running’s bow twanged before his and the arrow struck the hide slightly to the left of the bulge, missing the head and causing the Devil Cat to draw back and vent a shriek of fury.
“I think I hit it!” Elk Running exclaimed.
Two Knives very much doubted it, but he kept his doubt to himself. “You did fine, son.” He let up on his own bow for a few moments to relieve his arm, then drew the arrow back again. Another long wait ensued. The hide stayed smooth. After a while Dove Sings came up and put a hand on his shoulder.
“It has gone.”
Two Knives doubted that, too. To find out, he lowered his bow and edged to the flap and undid the tie enough to peer out. The trampled area in front of the lodge was clear. The cat could be crouched on either side or in the high grass.
“Do we go after it, Father?” Elk Running asked.
“We do not.”
“But it killed Fox Tail.”
“One death is enough.” Two Knives secured the tie and went to the fire and sat facing the hide and put the bow at his side, the arrow still notched.
Without being asked, Dove Sings brought the water skin over and offered it to him. “What is your plan?”
“We will stay in all night. If it has not come back by morning, then maybe it is safe.”
“And if it does?”
“We will do what we can.”
“You have the lance,” Dove Sings reminded him.
Two Knives had forgotten about it. The summer previous they had gone over into the next valley after elk and come on an old camp made by a hunting party. He’d found a lance near the embers of a fire and by its marking recognized it as Shoshone. The tip and about half an arm’s length had broken off and whoever owned it had left it. He’d brought it back and sharpened the end. It wasn’t as long as before, but it was sturdy and thick and made for a good weapon in close quarters.
Dove Sings brought it over and laid it on his other side.
“Thank you.”
Elk Running was pacing. “Maybe it will bleed to death,” he said.
“You should sit and rest,” Two Knives advised. “It will be a long night.”
“I am not tired.” Elk Running gestured angrily. “I wish Fox Tail were here. I will miss him.”
Two Knives closed his eyes and bowed his head, remembering.
Dove Sings touched his cheek. “How bad was it?”
“Bad.”
“Do you think he hurt the Devil Cat before it killed him?”
Two Knives hadn’t considered that at all. “Possibly,” he said. There had been a lot of dried blood, which he had assumed was his son’s.
“Would you like to eat?”
Two Knives was famished, but the idea held no appeal. “Maybe later,” he answered.
Bright Rainbow was sitting cross-legged with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. Tears were trickling down her cheeks. She sniffled and said quietly, “Fox Tail was a good brother.”
Two Knives nodded at her and at Dove Sings, and Dove Sings went to Bright Rainbow and draped an arm over the girl’s shoulders to comfort her.
“Fox Tail was a good son, too.”
Bright Rainbow looked up, her face gleaming wet. “Why did he have to die? It is not right.”
“Death comes to all of us, little one,” Dove Sings said. “We never know the day or the manner.”
“But
“You might as well ask why does the sun shine during the day and the moon rise at night. Death just is.”
“I do not understand why it has to be.”
Two Knives said, “There are many things in life that we do not understand. If we dwell on them, we will be sad. The important thing is to live the best we can and be as happy as we can and let the rest take care of itself.”
Elk Running stopped pacing. “Listen!”
From the side of the lodge came a growl. The Devil Cat went on growling as it moved to the rear of the lodge and the growl faded.
“It has gone into the forest,” Elk Running guessed. “We should go after it.”
“You would not say that if you had seen it,” Two Knives told him. “It is not like a normal cat.”
They had enough firewood to last all night. They slept lying close to the flames, Dove Sings in Two Knives’s arms, Bright Rainbow in hers. In the distance wolves wailed and coyotes crooned and once a brown bear roared, but their valley was still.
Two Knives did not sleep well. He would doze and wake with a start and then doze off again. This made two nights he had not gotten much sleep. Toward dawn he sat up, stiff and as tired as when he had lain down, and eased clear of Dove Sings and over to the hide. He took the lance. Quietly, he untied the hide enough to look out. It was too dark yet to see anything. He retied the hide and went back and waited for the others to rouse.
They had not slept well either. Dove Sings had shadows under her eyes. Bright Rainbow’s eyes were red. Elk Running yawned and scratched and scowled at the world.
“I did not hear the cat all night, Father. It must be gone.”
“We will go see,” Two Knives said.
