Chapter 16 – Blood Moon

	The cave was a flurry of activity that night.  Mostly, a lot of talking.  Kissima, Uki and Odina were overlapping their knowledge and going back and forth on plans for the coming day.  Finnegan would add a kernel of opinion here or there about what these mens’ capabilities were likely to be and what to expect in firepower.
	My father and I were, for the most part, severely out of our element.  Even Sawyer had more to add than we did.  The young man had been doing sweeps up and down the edge of the basin each morning, looking for vantage points and gaps in the trees we might be able to exploit from above.  I wouldn’t have even considered something like that.
	We ate, talked and prepared, the latter role primarily being taken up by Finnegan, who was checking over, taking apart and carefully cleaning our firearms.  He’d mentioned wanting to modify them somehow, but apparently there wasn’t time or the right supplies for that.
	“This weather is miserable for flintlocks,” he said distractedly as he looked over Odina’s rifle.  “And your powder could be better, Kissima.  I don’t know where you’re buying your supply, but they might be substituting something.  Or they’re not storing it properly.”
	“We’ve had some issues in the past with the rifles not igniting,” Kissima said, nodding.  “I had wondered.”
	“Percussion caps load faster, ignite hotter and they’re better in weather like this,” Finnegan said with a sigh.  “It’s a simple enough modification, but I can’t do it here.  I’d need to change the cock out for a hammer, and I don’t have the tools, regardless.  But you should consider it in the future.”
	“I had my own modified some years ago,” Odina said, looking to Sawyer.  “But it was expensive.  We never modified his.  I did not see the point, since he loads so slowly anyway.”
	Sawyer began to object, before Finn laid a hand on his shoulder.  “No worries there.  Sawyer’s going to stick with me and load for me, army-style.  His idea.”
	Odina’s brows lifted at her son, looking subtly impressed.  “Yeah, Ma,” the young mountain lion smiled.  “I ain’t gonna be all self-important when stakes’re this high.  Ambrose’s got the eagle eyes and all, I want to be as much use as I can.  Make every shot count, right?  I know you’re gonna be perched somewhere on yer own, so. . . .”
	“I’m still deciding between a few places,” she nodded.   
	“Uki and I have moved some of the traps,” Kissima said, “but we didn’t have much time.  That scout was clearly able to bypass those we set, so we should not think we can rely on them.”
	“He followed me,” my father said a bit guiltily, “along the paths I knew were safe.  I’m sorry, I should have been more observant.”
	“He’s dead, in any case,” Finnegan cut in, voice curt.  “So he can’t report back on the route he found.  And he mentioned that one of their men, he indicated a leader of some sort in fact, fell afoul of one of your traps in the wood.  So they may have already done some damage.”
	“What about me?”  I finally spoke up, looking to Uki and Kissima.  “I mean. . . I essentially know how to fire a rifle, but we only have four and like Sawyer said, we should let those who can make their shots count,” I looked to Finnegan and Odina at that, “have those.  As it is, it’s a dozen men with guns versus only four of our people who are any good at a range.”
	“They cannot simply fire on us from the cover of the trees,” Uki said.  “We could remain in the caves and wait them out as long as we need to, we’ve far more supplies than a few men on horseback are likely to.  They will have to take the village.  They may have us outmanned and outgunned, but this village was established here because it is so defensible.”
	“We’re going to do our best to keep them from reaching the caves and our gunmen first and foremost,” Kissima said.  “Even the shores of the village, if we can help it.  We have the advantage of knowing which direction they’ll come from, but it’s a large area.  We can perch high in the caves and have a vantage point overlooking the forest and the lake, but the trees will provide them with ample cover.  We’ll only be able to take shots when they reveal themselves, which won’t be often.  But that means they’ll need to move slowly down there, rushing between cover.  And if they want to have any chance at reaching us unseen, they’ll not be able to move in large groups, either.  That is where Uki, Tulimak and I will have our chance.”
	“You’re not going to be in the caves?”  I asked, uncertainly.
	“Those who stay in the caves will have no path to the forest without exposing themselves to gunfire,” Kissima explained.  “And as I said, it is key that we prevent them from reaching the caves.  Some of them will surely slip past Finnegan and Odina, there are too many.  As they draw close, someone must meet them in the woods.  Fire on them, ambush them, or force them into the open so that our gunmen can pick them off.”
	“You two are seasoned hunters,” Finnegan said, eyes narrowing, “but I don’t know how I feel about Tulimak being in the kill zone.  Especially without a rifle.”
	“Tomorrow, I will instruct Tulimak on axe throwing,” Uki piped up.  “I had hoped we’d have more time, but things being as they are. . . .”
	“Hopefully we won’t be under attack by then,” my father murmured.
	“I doubt they will come in the morning,” Kissima reasoned.  “The sun rises over the bluffs.  It would blind their approach.  They will come closer to evening.”
	“One of your caves up top is full of fishing spears,” my father said.  “Do you mind?  I’m a miserable shot with a bow, but. . . .”
	“Take as many as you wish,” Kissima said, nodding.  “We carved an abundance last year during the winter, when the snow kept us sealed in for a time.  We’ve hardly gone through half of them so far this year.”
	“Otterfa, you’re going to fight?”  I asked, surprised.
	He looked to me, his grey-peppered brow lowering.  “You thought I wouldn’t?”
	“All of us will fight,” Uki said with a toothy, intimidating smile.  “I do not care what these men want with your wolf, Tulimak.  Their kind will take nothing more from this tribe.  Ever again.”

	
	“There’s a part of me that really feels I should just turn myself in,” Finn bemoaned quietly as we walked back to our cave.  “I don’t want to watch any of these people die for me.  Not even your father.”
	“Odina is fighting for a future for her children,” I reminded him, “and this is a task she chose.  For better or for worse.  You might be able to help my tribe’s future as well, Finn.  Besides,” I ground my teeth, uncomfortably, “even as ‘unworldly’ as I am, and I have to tell you I’m getting very tired of being reminded of that-“
	“Sorry,” he said.
	“My father was the one to say it this time, not you,” I sighed.  “Anyway, my point is, if even I realize these men are not likely to just take you and go, the reality of that must be setting in for you by now.”
	“It’s probably worse than you realize,” Finnegan admitted, sadly.  “Outfits like this?  They’re part of a larger group of thugs, so it’s never just the men you’re dealing with that you have to worry about.  In Amuresca they’re called ‘gangs’, ‘raiders’, ‘syndicates’.  They don’t forget and they don’t forgive.  If any of these men make it back to their organization and they think for a moment that Uki and Kissima were harboring me, protecting me. . . .  Hell, they could come after your otter tribe, too.  For the same reason.  Even if they win here and capture me.  Just getting the coin is not going to be enough.”
	I looked to him, worried.  “You think they’d go after my otter tribe after this, even if they got what they wanted?”
	“I can’t say for sure, obviously,” he reasoned, “but I lived in the Risers long enough to know how armed gangs work.  It's about sending a message.  I’m sure that story about what they did to the miners was spread around by their own group, as well as the survivors.  Even if what they did there technically broke the law, an organization like that wants to be feared more than they want a clean reputation.  They don’t want anyone harboring future marks they’re set on hunting down.  So they’ll do things to put the fear of God into people, make it clear what happens when you work against their interests.”
	“All it took was the mention of the Jackwalds to frighten both Odina and my father,” I agreed.    
	We both stopped in front of the opening to our cave, staring at something that hadn’t been there before.  Someone had hung a caribou fur over the entranceway.  There’d been these little divots dug into the rock along the edges of the ‘doorway’ that I’d noted were on most of the others around the caves as well.  I hadn’t realized until now what they were intended for.  The caribou fur had holes cut into it that were spaced the right distance apart to be hung on them.  The other doors had probably all had them a long time ago as well, back when the caves were more occupied.
	“Uki’s work, no doubt,” I said as I slowly pushed aside the flap, stepping inside.  The tunnel here gave us some privacy, being that it bent more than once, but this was certainly better.  
	“Where was this the other night?”  Finn asked aloud, grumbling.
	“I think this was likely an improvement made in response to that,” I said pointedly.  “But I’m not arguing.”
	“Mnnh.”  Finn seemed less pleased than I was.
	I shed my cloak once we were inside and kneeled beside the dim coals in our firepit, gathering kindling from the small bundle nearby and slowly coaxing it back to life.  “What’s with the grumbling?”  I asked him.  I didn’t turn, but I heard him unbuttoning his coat and going about the process of removing his leather spats, gun belt and holster.
	“It’s nothing,” he assured me.  “Just interesting that they weren’t so insistent on anyone else having a cover for their doorway.”
	“Uki was very accepting when I spoke to her about. . . us,” I said, blowing gently on the ashes to re-kindle the fire.  “I’m absolutely certain it’s meant as a kindness, and nothing else.  I mean, it’s a practical consideration.  We are the only mated pair here.”
	“ ‘Mated Pair’,” Finnegan whistled, chuckling from behind me.  
	“I don’t know what else to call us,” I admitted, finally turning to regard him.  He’d stripped down to his undershirt and britches and was shrugging out of his vest by the time I looked over.  My body tensed in a few places, just at the sight of him undressing.  It was frankly humiliating how easily he could affect me without even being aware of it.
	“I like it,” the wolfdog smirked, tail flicking about.  “Certainly a kinder expression than those we have in Amuresca for two men bunking up.”
	I stood slowly and crossed the space between us.  He was still fussing with his vest, so by the time I reached him, he seemed surprised I was so close.
	“Tuli-“ he began questioningly, but by then I’d wrapped an arm around his lean middle and another behind his knees, scooping him up.  He gave a whuff of surprise and looked briefly alarmed, until I’d crossed the two strides necessary to deposit him in the combined mound of furs that had made up our sleeping space last night.  
	The surprise on his features hadn’t entirely gone, but he began to chuckle as I climbed over him.  “Well, good evening to you too, sir,” he snickered, glancing down between us.  Specifically where I was tenting my breech cloth.  “How may I be of service?”
	“You’re so strange sometimes,” I muttered, nosing at where his shirt gaped.
	“Says the bear who has bodily lifted me like a fainting damsel on more than one occasion now,” he pointed out, stroking a palm up and over my shoulder, his claws tracing the line of one of my marks.  “You could just ask me to get into bed, you know.”
	“You seem to like it when I pick you up.”
	“I do like it,” he admitted, still smirking.
	“You joked last time we were alone together about using my arm strength for. . .” I paused at that.  “Actually I’m not certain,” I said, resting my jaw as lightly as I could on his chest.  “You want me to hold you up and. . . I. . . guess rub against one another?  That sounds more like how I scratch myself on trees. . . .”
	“Oh, you sweet darling,” he said between snorting laughter.  “You really have no idea, do you?”
	“Hey,” I blew out a breath across his fur.  “I’m getting better at figuring out what I want.”
	“What do you want, Tuli?”  He asked in a far-too-sultry tone.
	“I want. . .” I trailed off, then rubbed the side of my cheek against his chest, huffing lowly.  “I don’t know, Finn.  I want you,” I said, frustrated.  “I’ve really liked what we’ve already done with one another.  Is there more?”
	He smiled slowly, nodding.
	“There’s one thing I’ve wanted to do since Tawnahowac,” I growled softly, nuzzling at his belly.  I wanted my nose in his fur, so I got up on my elbows and balled my fingers in the cotton of his undershirt, tugging it up from where it was tucked into his britches.  He saw what I wanted and easily assisted me, pulling the loose shirt up over his head and discarding it.  While he did so, I got back to my knees and undid my breech cloth, freeing myself of its restraint.
	“Fuck,” Finn let out in an utterance, his paw wandering down his body to grip himself between his legs, despite the fact that he was still clothed there.  
	“You like that word,” I said, moving back over him.  “Especially when we’re, well. . . .”
	“When I fancy my pants off,” he said, fussing with the tie on his britches, “the chap from the Risers comes out in me, so you’ll have to endure the gutter talk, I’m afraid.”
	“I don’t care what you say, I just like hearing you,” I admitted.  “I’ve always liked your voice.”
	“Well one hide isn’t going to prevent sound from carrying down here,” he said, glancing at the caribou fur just barely covering our doorway.  “So unless you want tomorrow to be real awkward in addition to real dangerous, we ought to try and keep it down- damn.  Tuli, that is still goddamn intimidating,” he said, changing gears rather abruptly mid-thought, his gaze still pinned between our bodies.  
	I followed his eyes, realizing eventually that he was indicating where I hung stiffly between my legs.  “Oh,” I said, blanching.  “I-I’m sorry.  I’m big. . . everywhere. . . .”
	“Let it never be said Finnegan Ambrose was one to back down from a challenge,” he said with a grin that revealed his canines.  He peeled himself out of his britches, kicking them aside.  His own cock, a lighter shade of pink than mine and half the size, was also fully out of its sheath by now, rising up from the dusting of white fur between his legs.  I’d never wanted anything so badly.
	The urge to push my oversized muzzle down between his legs came on even stronger than it had last time.  I decided this time that there was no use in fighting it.  I dropped my nose back down into his fur and snuffled my way down his belly, dragging his scent through my nostrils.  He smelled more like himself, the scent I knew to be his, than he had the last time we’d been together like this, right after we’d bathed.  In a way I preferred it.  It brought back a lot of memories of time we’d spent together on our journey thus far, a general feeling of ‘us’, of this strange, life-changing connection we’d built.
	I wanted him so desperately.  I wanted to wake up to his scent, every morning.
	“Ah-Tuli. . . ahh. . . .”  his palms moved around my head to stroke at my ears, fingers moving through the thick rolls of fur around my neck.  I could feel his cock beneath my clavicle, knew the moment he realized what I intended for him by the way he splayed his legs for me.  “Are you sure?”  I heard him ask in a husky, sinfully low voice when my muzzle made it to the scruff of fur above his sheath.
	“Mmmhh-hmmhh,” I nodded, letting out a warm breath on his cock.  His entire body shook.
	I swiped my tongue out first, tasting him.  My tongue was easily able to cup half of him, lathing it root to tip.  He tasted like he smelled, mild and musky and utterly unlike myself.  I curled my tongue along his tip as I finished one long, first swipe, then went in for another.
	Finn’s hips stuttered, lifting off the furs as he bit down on a whine, then released a long, shuddering breath.  I loved watching his reaction, so I lifted my gaze to him as I took another slow lick of his manhood.  
	“God. . . mffhhh. . . is your tongue blue?”  He asked around a puff of breath.
	I couldn’t help but smile slightly at the odd question.  I suppose before now, he’d never really had a reason to examine it closely.  “It’s spotted,” I said, amused.  I cupped it around his cock again, closing my eyes for a moment as I focused on the feel of him, encased in my tongue.
	One of his paws was still cupping my cheek and toying at one of my ears.  “Fuck, you’re so damned cute- ah. . . ahhh. . .” he lifted his hips into my ministrations, squeezing his eyes shut.  “I’m gonna cum way too soon, watching you. . . .”
	I was growing more and more needful myself, watching how strong a reaction I could pull out of him with something so simple.  It was surprising and empowering, like I’d stumbled upon a great secret to cracking the wolfdog’s often cool demeanor.  So far, each time we’d spent a night together like this, I’d felt relatively at his mercy.  His experience and knowledge exceeded mine and he was far more confident besides.
	But for the first time, the tables had turned and I found there was a part of me that reveled in it.  I’d enjoyed following his lead in the past as well, it had been a real relief to have someone who knew the way when I was in uncharted waters.  But this. . . this was good, too.
	I thought back on what he’d done that night in my pit home.  It seemed, honestly, somewhat dangerous?  I had very large fangs.  But all I had to do was be careful.  He’d been careful and it had been fine.
	It was worth the risk sheerly for the groan that emanated from deep in his chest when, at last, I closed my muzzle around him.  I tested it slowly, but soon found it was no challenge whatsoever to take the whole of him in my mouth.  He’d only been able to take half of me, and I realized of course that I had an unfair advantage, but still.  It was satisfying.
	“Fucking suck me,” he growled gutturally, loping one of his legs lazily up over my shoulder, his paw curling around one of my ears, like he wanted to hold me there.  
	I’m honestly glad he said that aloud, because for a moment, even though I’d taken him into my mouth, I wasn’t sure what to do with him.  But then I remembered how he’d done it and began to try, myself.  I could still employ my tongue thankfully, although not as dexterously.  Even though I’m certain I was bad at figuring the process out and taking far too much time doing so, he seemed to be enjoying it.  Perhaps so long as I was gentle, there wasn’t really a way to get this wrong.   
	He leaked down my tongue, salty and warm.  I hollowed my cheeks as well as I could, glad for once for my oversized muzzle.  My own cock throbbed between my legs, something about this. . . the noises of the act itself, the noises it was pulling from him. . . just. . . driving my want even further.  I hadn’t expected that doing this for him would have such an effect on me.  
	My gaze moved up along his body as I bobbed my muzzle between his legs.  He’d thrown an arm over his face at some point, muffling his moans into it.  His chest rose and fell in panting breaths, and his tail was swiping about erratically beneath him in the furs.
	I felt a deep, rumbling growl build in my throat, which I hadn’t intended.  I worried for a moment that it might frighten him, but instead I felt his hips stiffen, his body going taut.  He tried to push at my skull, to warn me, I suppose.
	I’d decided when I’d begun this that I didn’t want to make a mess of our bed.  Maybe that was just an excuse, I don’t know.  But either way, I only took him deeper, wanting all of him, his knot included.  It was just more of him, after all.  
	He buckled against me, paw gripping the back of my head, hips locking me in tight, with the one leg he’d thrown up over my shoulder clamping around me.  If he was at all concerned at that point for my comfort, instinct had won out.
	With my muzzle pressed to the base of his knot, he did actually come rather close to gagging me, and I had to struggle to swallow him all, but at least I didn’t taste most of it.  I let him slip from my mouth finally, after sucking at his knot gently through the last of it.
	To say the wolfdog looked flustered would be an understatement.  He was devastated, absolutely in shambles.  Honestly, I felt rather proud of myself.
	“I can’t be all that good at that,” I teased him, licking my muzzle as I looked down on him.
	“I haven’t had my cock sucked in over a year and it’s just about my favorite fuckin’ thing in the world,” Finn uttered between heavy pants.  “Don’t get a big head.”  He paused.  “R’actually.  Your head can stay exactly the size it is now, it’s perfect for my purposes.”
	I snorted.  “Yes, I think this is a bit easier for me than it is you.”
	“Natural advantage,” he agreed, nodding blissfully.  “But life’s about overcoming adversity, and I’m a scholar in that.”  He slowly and dizzily got to his knees, gesturing at me.  “C’mon and stand, for me.  Let me show you how it’s really done.”
	“Stand?”  I repeated, uncertainly doing as I was told.  Although I had to admit, the view from above him was spectacular.  He looked blissful and flustered, fur all askew, his knot still out and cock still hanging between his legs, resting against our blankets.  His tail was sliding back and forth behind him and one of his ears had just entirely given up, crooked to the side.  To see the normally fastidious man lose all composure, just for me, was utterly satisfying.
	“It’s how I prefer it,” he smirked, palms spread flat over my thighs, nose trailing down the scruff on my belly.  “Everything’s right there, laid before me.”  His green eyes lifted up to mine, pinning me there on the spot.  There were a lot of things about tonight I’d remember for quite some time, I was certain.  I hoped to make many more memories like this with Finnegan.
	Unless tomorrow was the last day I’d ever have with him.  

	I woke to my name being called, repeatedly.  By a voice more familiar to me than any other.
	I blinked slowly, the ground reasserting itself beneath my feet, reality spinning back into focus in a dizzying barrage.  The sensation of hands on my biceps, steadying me.
	“Tulimak, are you with me?”  My father’s voice.  His eyes, looking up at mine.  His figure, encased by early twilight.  I was outside.  We were outside.
	“I’m. . . awake,” I said slowly, growing more certain of that by the moment.  When I had these dreams, it could be so hard to tell.  I looked over his shoulder, out towards the forest and the lake beyond.  The scenery looked much the same as it had through the haze of my waking dream, but everything was more substantial now.
	The same waking dream.  It had happened again.
	“I saw it again, otterfa,” I said quietly.  
	“The vision?”  He asked knowingly.
	I nodded, hazily.  “The Ursark, with a seam of light and dark down the middle.  The young bear it made from blood. . . .”
	“You’re alright,” my father assured me, patting my arms and releasing them.  “Just a dream.  You’re having them because you’re troubled.  Just like when you were young.  They’ll pass.”
	He scrunched up his nose for a moment, then began to walk away from me.  I didn’t miss the passing look of discomfort, but more importantly-
	“Otterfa, please,” I said, reaching out for him without grabbing at him.  I didn’t like grabbing at people unless it was necessary.  “These dreams, or. . . visions,” I continued, “they’re haunting me.  It feels like it must mean something.  You said we’d talk about it.”
	He turned to regard me, his expression hard to read.
	“Please,” I pressed.  “I need your help.  Your wisdom.”
	“Tulimak,” he said with some difficulty, “I don’t understand you anymore.  Let alone your dreams.  I don’t know. . . I don’t know how to help you.  I wish I did.  But I don’t know what to say to you.”  He let his arms drop, head hanging.  “You don’t want my advice, right now.  It is clearly of no value to you.”
	I was too stunned to respond to him.  It was as blatant a dismissal as ever I’d heard.  It wasn’t said cruelly or even in an unkind way.  It was worse.  
	It felt like my father was giving up on me.
	“I do want your advice,” I insisted.
	“Stop worrying about a dream,” he said, voice impassive.  “Worry about the situation we are in and reflect on why we are in it.  You are troubled because you’re in danger, and because you’ve endangered your entire family, over a person who is not worth any of it.  A man who will see you ruined.  You smell of him, by the way.  I didn’t think it appropriate to say anything, but better to tell you than not in case you want to avoid embarrassment later.”
	Ice grew in my chest, like spires threatening to burst out through my ribs.  “I. . .” I drew in a quick breath.  “I wanted to help someone, otterfa.  Someone in danger.  I believed him, I-I still do, and I thought helping him was the right thing to do.  I’m not saying I haven’t made mistakes. . . .”
	“I believe your heart was in the right place,” my father said quietly.  “I’m not saying you’re a bad person, Tulimak.  But at this point you’ve seen the consequences of aiding this man, and still,” he gestured around him, “we are here.  We could return home.”
	“And leave Kissima and Uki?”  I pointed out.
	That gave him pause.  “Well. . . .” he murmured.
	“You could leave,” I said, even though my heart fought every word.  “You could go home, otterfa.”
	He lowered his brow.  “I can disagree with your choices and still love you, Tulimak.  I won’t abandon you.”
	“I love you too, otterfa,” I said softly.  I felt tears threatening.  I wasn’t even sure if they were happy or sad at this point.
	He walked past me, heading back towards the cave.  As he passed me, he briefly put a hand on my arm, comfortingly.  “Tell your. . . partner. . . that when you rise in the middle of the night, he should check to ensure you’re actually awake.  I think most assume you’re simply getting up to relieve yourself, and I know from raising you how dangerous it can be to let you wander when you’re in these dazes.  He should know that, too.”
	“. . . sure,” I said, watching him go.     

	“Take a moment to look at your target.  Now, put one foot- your dominant foot- forward.  Swing your arm down and to the side.”
	I tried to do precisely as Uki told me, arranging my big, cumbersome body as she showed.  She straightened my foot for me with her own, then continued, “When the axe head goes past your leg, bring it back up quickly- yes.  Good.  Now when it’s over your head,” she steadied my arm where it was, showing me the proper apex, I’d imagine.  “Yes.  Here is good.  When you’ve gotten it this high, move your arm as though you are throwing a ball.  You’ve played with leather balls before?”
	I nodded.  “Not as much as my brothers, but sometimes.”
	“Just like that,” she said, guiding my arm down in a slowed-down version of the swing, then stopped it halfway.  “Now when it’s here, parallel to the ground, that is when you release.  And remember, hand grips the axe handle straight up and down.  Not tilted to either side.  You want the axe to fly straight.”  She pointed ahead of us to the tree I was aiming for.  “A tree is a good way to see if you’re holding the axe straight.”
	I nodded again, but in truth, this seemed like a lot to remember.  
	“Just practice going through the motion many times,” she eased.  “It will be like second nature eventually.  You just have to get your body into the rhythm.”  She patted my shoulder.  “You are Ujarak’s son.  His blood runs through you.”
	“What?”  Those words broke my concentration, for some reason.  The image they conjured in my mind’s eye. . . .
	“Ujarak was a great warrior,” Uki began to explain, “I only meant-“
	“No, I understand,” I shook my head.  “But Uki, can I ask you something?”
	She smiled back at me, waiting.  I’d honestly never seen such open, warm, inviting features on such a scarred face.
	“Do you think,” I began, then halted for a moment, uncertain of my words.  “That is to say- are we the people we’re going to be, before we’re even born?”
	She actually laughed.  “I take it back,” she chuckled, “Ujarak was never quite such a deep thinker as you.”
	“I mean,” I sighed, “you’re not the only person who’s told me I’m going to be something, because of my blood.  Or that I’m supposed to be something, because of my blood.”  My mind went back to the two-toned Ursark bear, forming the young bearchild from its own blood and earth.  “I’m not a warrior.  I don’t think I’ll ever be much of one, even if I try, but even you seem to think so.  Just because I’m a bear?”
	“I am not a deep thinker either,” Uki confesed, humming softly, “but I think. . . yes?  In ways.  I think it is half of who we are, at least.”
	“Half?”  I parroted back, now utterly confused.
	“Well, you may not have been trained as a warrior,” she explained, “and you may not like it, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t very large, and very strong.  That came from your mother and father’s blood.  No matter how well Takoda raised you, if he’d wanted to raise you to be twelve heads tall, he could not have.  Your blood gave you that.”
	“Alright,” I said, following along uncertainly for now.
	“But Takoda raised you to be loving and kind,” she said.  “And to embrace new things,” she glanced past me, towards where I knew Finnegan was helping build a tree stand with Odina, “and people,” she finished with a smirk.  “Our tribe, perhaps, would not have raised you quite so trusting of the outside world.  You would have become a different person.  I happen to still think you would have been a very good person.  But different.”
	My father was nearby, sharpening spears.  I knew he’d heard the entirety of the conversation I’d just had with Uki, and some petty part of me hoped he was reflecting on how much more she’d helped me break down the visions I’d been having lately, without even knowing she was doing so.
	“So, maybe it’s a bit like pottery?”  I offered, while she steadied and corrected my arm for another practice swing.  
	“Ha!”  She showed off a broken fang with her laugh.  “Tulimak, you are a funny man.”
	“I just mean,” I blanched a bit, “if people were made out of clay,” I was offering the metaphor seemingly lightly, but in fact it was directly taken from my dreams.  “If you made a child out of, say, blood and earth, the ingredients would matter-“
	“I do not think blood would do well to make clay,” she made a face.
	“-but the hands that craft and shape the clay would also matter,” I continued, exasperated.  “That’s what you mean by ‘half’?”
	“Maybe?”  She was chuckling again.  “I do not know, Tulimak.  I most confess, you have lost me.  But I think we may be saying the same thing.  Yes.  The blood matters, but how you are raised matters, too.  I do not think anyone would question that.  It seems rather obvious to me.  But what do I know?”
	Great, I couldn’t help but think.  Even Uki thinks your visions are just common-sense observations.  What was the Ursark spirit trying to tell me?  Or was it really just a simple-minded spirit, showing me complex visions to teach simple lessons?  
	Whatever the case, I really wished I could get more of my father’s usual wisdom on the matter.  But he’d all but shut down recently, since he’d found out about Finnegan and I.  I felt like the two of us were on drifting canoes, taking different forks down a river.
	“Your mate is proof enough that the bodies we are given at birth do not necessarily determine whether we’ll be adept warriors or not,” Uki said pointedly.
	I felt my fur fluff up a bit, a warmth spreading through my chest.  “I like. . . hearing you say that,” I confessed.
	“What?”  She paused.  “Oh.  That he is your mate?”
	I smiled.  “You said it again.”
	“If it truly makes you so happy to hear it,” she said, “then I cannot see how you could be in any doubt of your feelings for him.”  She put a hand over mine where I was holding the axe handle and leaned in almost conspiratorially, her voice dropping.  “I know the rituals.  If you like, Takoda’s blessing or no, I will marry you.”
	I coughed, “Uhhh,” I glanced out of the corner of my eye towards where Finn was straddling a tall branch, legs dangling on either side, lifting a few planks Odina was handing up towards him.  “I think probably. . . a little premature there, Uki.”
	She scoffed.  “You are lucky you are a man.  If you were a woman saying that, I would remind you with some consternation that you’re already sharing a bed.  But I suppose when there is no risk of cubs coming along. . . .”
	I sighed.  “I’m not even really certain how he feels about me.”  I admitted.  It was strange that the words came so freely with Uki, I never would have said anything like it to my father.  To him, I was always defensive of Finnegan, defending my right to be with him.  If I’d shown any of my uncertainty over my relationship, I knew full well it would just add fuel to the fire.  But with Uki, I felt a lot safer in admitting my fears.
	“I can find out, if you wish,” the female bear offered.
	I turned my head towards her quickly, putting my free paw up.  “No, please,” I insisted.  “Don’t beat it out of him or anything-“	
	“What?”  She asked around a laugh.  “I would never hurt your mate.  That would be disrespectful as well as cruel.  You think that is what I meant?”
	“I. . .” I decided in that instant not to tell her about what had happened between my father and Finn.  Everyone was on edge already, and I didn’t want to sew trouble between my blood family and adopted family.  Maybe some day I’d talk to her about everything.  But not now.  “I don’t know.  I guess it’s natural to be protective of your family, but. . . .”
	“I meant ask him,” she clarified.  “Speak to him, only if it is difficult for you to do so yourself.”
	“I’ve tried,” I let out a long breath.  “But to be honest, I don’t think even he knows how he feels.  It’s all muddled by the fact that we don’t have very much time together.  That’s always been the problem, since the day I met him,” I groused.  “Everything with him has always felt temporary.  First it was until we got to Broen, and then the Tawnahowac land, and now it’s Arbordale,” I knitted my brow.  “It’s so hard to know your feelings for someone when you can’t plan for anything lasting.”
	“But you do,” she pointed out with a slight quirk of her muzzle upwards.
	I gripped the axe handle tighter, dropping my muzzle.  “I do,” I confirmed.  
	“And you feel what?  Foolish?”
	“Maybe?”  I snuffed.  “My father certainly thinks I am.  I think even Finnegan believes that.  He keeps saying things I know are meant to push me away.  But then he says other things. . .” I swallowed heavily.  “He pulls me back and forth between despair and hope-“
	“You should tell stories,” she said.  “You have the tongue.  So poetic.”
	“It’s bullshit,” I snapped, using an Amurescan word instead of a curse from our language, because honestly, it felt right in the moment.  “He knows what he’s doing.  My father’s right about that.  If he wanted to push me away, he could have by now.  Which means he does want to be with me, he just doesn’t care that it’s temporary.  It’s not fair.  Maybe he is using me. . . .”
	“Or he is in love with you, but has no control over his future,” she offered, quietly.
	I turned to regard her.  She gave a very gentle shrug, squeezing my arm before letting it go.  “I do not know, Tulimak.  But the position you are both in, I think, is so hard, you are both bound to make mistakes.”
	“I certainly have,” I admitted softly.  “I endangered my family, I endangered you and Kissima.”
	“Kissima and I have the chance to defend one of the only remaining living members of our tribe,” she said.  “And kill these bastard Otherwolves in the process.  Do not worry for us.  I am more glad than I can say that you came to us in your time of need.”
	“Still,” I muttered.  “A lot of people are getting hurt because of this.  I don’t even know if these men coming for Finn are bad people.  We shot down that scout without really knowing who it was.  He could have been a trapper or something.  We assumed.”
	“It was very unlikely anyone here, at this exact time, in an abandoned corner of the world would be anyone other than the men feverishly hunting you,” she reasoned.
	“My point is more,” I said, “before we got to know her, we could have also killed Odina.  And since we’ve been traveling with her I’ve realized she’s a person whose motives I. . . can understand, you know?  She isn’t just some nameless threat any more.  The men coming after us?  Some of them might have good reasons to be in their trade, too.”
	“Tulimak, every person here has made choices that led them to this point,” she said, her one brown eye, one glazed-over eye locking on mine.  The scar cutting down over it I could now see had definitely been what caused the loss of vision there.  The original wound must have been horrific.  
	“All you can do, at this point, is survive.”

	   
	One of the only things I’d insisted upon that I helped place out in the woods to defend the Basin was a collection of small signs.  Emblazoned on them in red paint we’d made from some of the local holly berries and clay were warnings in our tongue, as well as Amurescan.  Finnegan helped us write the latter, so we’d be certain it was legible.  We hung them high and visible in the largest clearings, to be certain they’d be seen.
	
	Turn back.  Trespassers will be fired upon.

	I wanted to say we had done all we could.  And as the second day of waiting turned to a third and the shadows grew long, it seemed like the Jackwalds may have left.
	And then, as we’d all sat down to eat dinner on the third night, a shot pierced the still calm of the frigid air.
	Everyone, even Finnegan, went stiff for a full few seconds after it had happened.  And then all at once, people were getting to their feet, grabbing for weapons and falling into the well-practiced routine we’d worked out in a state of fumbling shock.
	I knew, somehow.  This was it.
	“That was close, had to be Kissima,” Odina said as she grabbed up her rucksack of ammo and her rifle, pushing Sawyer towards Finnegan.  “Stay with him.  You stay right at his side, do you hear me?  No heroics.”
	“I know ma,” he promised, grabbing up a bag himself, as Finnegan quickly re-checked his pistol and stowed it in his hip holster, gesturing at the young mountain lion to get the rifle, too.
	“You two take your position in the caves,” Odina said as she began heading towards one of her tree stands.  “Takoda-“
	“I’m the last line, I know.  My spears are waiting for me near the cave entrance,” the older otter said gruffly.  He quickly scraped a paw through the ashes of our cooking fire, I knew not why.
	I felt Uki at my shoulder, slinging something over my back.  It felt heavy.  She straightened it at the collar for me, her eyes alight as she looked me over.  “Ujarak’s heavy parka,” she explained.  “The hide is from a great ocean beast.  It will not stop a bullet, but it may ensure you do not die.  Push it back over your shoulder when you mean to throw your axe.”  She demonstrated for me what she meant with her own parka.
	Another shot, this one from the same distance, confirming it was most likely Kissima firing into the woods below.
	“She would not be wasting so much powder unless she saw them,” Uki said with a snarl.  “We must go.  This is real.”
	We’d had a few false starts over the last few days where whomever we had on watch had caught sight of an animal and mistaken it for one of the Jackwalds.  But Kissima was especially careful.  If she’d fired twice. . . .
	“Ma!”  I heard Sawyer call out.  He sprinted down towards her before she could make her way into the woods and slung an arm briefly around her shoulder, kissing her on the brow.  She embraced him back.  Then the two of them parted ways again.
	I looked to Finn.  He looked back at me, uncertainly.  Sawyer was jogging back towards us and now was hardly the time to be shy, but in the end, I didn’t go to him, either.
	“Take care out there,” he said to me instead.
	“You too,” I returned.
	“We have the most defensible position,” he said.  “I’m not worried.”
	“Son,” my father’s voice interrupted us.  I looked down and found he was holding up a paw smeared in ash.  “Uncover your shoulder a moment,” he directed.
	I did as I was told, unconsciously uncovering my shoulder with the burn scar on it, out of habit.  I’d gotten so used to pulling back my cloak to treat it for weeks now.  It was fairly well healed now and didn’t bother me at all any more.
	My otterfa reached up and drew a spiral with a jagged wedge shape around the injury, tracing the lines of my shoulder-blade.  The pattern was not particularly intricate and only took a few moments, and the ash wouldn’t remain on my fur for long, but I knew what his intention was.
	“Your warrior marking,” he said, finishing the mark off by hooking it around the scar itself.  “You earned it.  You saved the life of someone important to you,” he looked briefly to Finnegan, his face a complex confluence of emotions.  “Warrior markings call upon the spirits of war to protect those of us that must fight.  I will pray that they see you this day.  But I think they have already found you.”
	“Otterfa. . . .”  I breathed out, my throat closing up.
	“Come back to me, son,” he begged.  And before I could say any more, he turned and took off for the caves, following in Finnegan and Sawyer’s wake.
	Another gunshot, this time from a more nearby location- Odina’s tree-stand, I realized- broke through the moment.  Uki grabbed at my arm.  “You stay closer to the rim of the Basin, where the trees are thicker.  I will keep closer to the lake.  You will have more cover.  Use it.”
	I nodded dizzily, throwing the parka back over my shoulder and taking off towards where we’d practiced.  The trees thinned out the closer you got to the lake, so there wouldn’t be as many places to hide and take cover there.  Uki was a far more experienced hunter and ambusher, so she was taking that ground.
	We had two choices, north or south.  But the north was covered by a rocky ridge of the basin wall that was hard to trespass, and Odina was posted there besides.  The trees there were also thinner overall, so it seemed like a bad place for the Jackwalds to advance on our camp.  Uki and I would stick mostly to the south.
	Kissima was also posted facing the south, so it seemed likely that’s where they were advancing from.  Odina could fire towards the south from her tree stand whenever anyone broke cover, but there was no guarantee any of the shots I was hearing had hit anyone.  Especially if the men were still far off.
	There was also the possibility, as Finn had pointed out, that the hunters would separate into two groups and cover both sides.  It depended on what their plan was, and we couldn’t know that.
	Finnegan was posted higher still, with Sawyer helping him re-load and rotating firearms between the pistol and rifle.  But he was the farthest, so to say the shots would be difficult was an understatement.  It might’ve seemed counter-productive putting our best shot the farthest away, but we didn’t have a choice.  Finnegan was their goal.  If he was isolated in a tree stand and they got to him, this whole thing was over.  They’d take him and we’d never see him again.  But the skirmish was bound to move in closer soon enough, and if anyone could make long-distance shots until then. . . .
	A crackle broke me out of my reverie and I dashed behind a tree just as Uki had shown me and made me practice again and again over the last few days.  But the shot that punctuated the next few seconds hadn’t come from the man I’d heard far too late, but from behind me, from my own people.  A pained shout later, the white dog tumbled over into the snow, pistol falling from his hand and burying in the fresh powder.
	I sucked in a cold gasp of air, realizing how close I’d come.  I’d been thinking of my friends and right off, I’d lost focus and not paid attention to my surroundings.  The man now lying in a puddle of his own blood and a crumpled leather duster had that pistol pointed right at me until he’d been shot down by one of my companions.  By the sound of the shot and where it had likely come from, it had been Odina.
	They were this close already?  I’d barely reached the thickest part of the forest.
	I hunkered low, grabbing at a pine bough and shaking the snow over my shoulders.  My parka was already a light tan, but I remembered how Uki and Kissima had been when they’d first come upon us, nearly invisible against the snow.  It certainly couldn’t hurt.  
	I stalked slowly through the forest, eyes scanning the darkening boughs and trunks.  I felt that there was an instinctive sort of pattern to it, and I began to look for breaks in it.  The tree trunks moved in my field of vision, lines of darkness blotting out the glimpses of light between them.  It was there, in those checkered gaps, that I was looking for movement.  
	Another shot.  Followed all too soon by another, this time from the wood-line.  They’d begun firing back at our people.  They all had blinds, I reminded myself.  We had much better cover than our enemies.  That shot had been near enough to me that I thought I might be able to find the man who’d fired, and this was why Uki and I were here.  
	Clutching one of my axes, (the one from my otter tribe) vice tight in my palm, I paced as quietly as I could manage through the snow.  The soft coat we’d just gotten the night before eased my footsteps, and I found I fell into an uneasy but steady rhythm as I approached where I’d heard the gunshot emanate from.
	Heartbeat, slide a foot forward, heartbeat, press that foot down through the snow, heartbeat, lift the foot behind, heartbeat, slide that foot forward. . . .
	My perspective shifted the black lines of tree trunks and boughs and the thin strips of light between, and then all of a sudden, there it was.  Movement.  A figure, leaning slowly out from behind a trunk.  Peering past.
	He hadn’t seen me.  
	He had his back turned to me.
	From behind, all I could make out was that he was canine.  Slim.  Pointed ears, a wolf-like tail.  He might have even been a wolf, or a coyote.  It was hard to say.
	He was wearing similar clothing to Finnegan, if more rugged, more meant for the outdoors.  Leather breeches and vest, long jacket.  Holster on his hip.  The pistol was clearly held in his hand, at the ready.  He’d had time by now to re-load it.
	He hadn’t seen me.
	This man had a story.  He had a reason for being here, whether I agreed with it or not.  Someone somewhere in the world knew him and might even care about him.
	The snow crunched beneath one of my feet, the man twitched and spun on me, and my thoughts just. . . stopped.  Everything narrowed to one point in front of me.  His hand, the pistol in it.  He’d begun to raise it, I’m not even certain how fast.  Certainly not as fast as Finnegan.  But too fast.
	I heard my father’s voice in my mind, begging me to return to him, fear surged through me like a howling gale, and I erupted through snow-laden pine saplings and charged the man.
	The sound that left me in those frenzied moments, I cannot begin to describe.  It was somewhere between a fearful wail and a bellowing roar.  It almost drowned out the frantic gunshot the man fired off slipshod into the snow, erupting feet in front of him between the two of us. 
	I threw my axe before I made it to him, almost forgetting to do so until it was too late.  The blade flew from my hand with all of my strength behind it, but I’d overshot.  It hit the tree behind him and stuck in at an angle, and by then I was on him.
	I bore him down into the snow, jaw agape, snarling.  I could feel the saliva connecting my teeth, the howling roar puffing out between us into the cold air.  I was afraid of myself.  But not nearly as much as I was afraid of him.
	I knew he couldn’t possibly get another shot off at me, but the first thing I did was pin his gun-arm down into the snow, putting all my weight into it.  He cried out, clawed feet kicking at my chest, his other arm escaping my grasp, hand fumbling down at his waist.
	For some reason, I’d thought if I got the gun away from him, I’d be safe.  But a flash of steel confirmed he, of course, had a hunting knife too.  I grit my teeth, knowing there were only inches between us and that blade would be coming up into my gut in a few seconds unless I could do something.
	I twisted my bulk away from him all that I could and tried to grab again for his struggling arm, succeeding only in tearing at his sleeve.  It was enough to push aside his first swipe, but his second arced upwards in a quick stab for my arm itself, the blade catching me with a sharp sting across the bicep.  It would have gone deeper too, if not for the parka, which it had caught and tangled in for a brief second in time.
	Both of my hands were on him, one holding his main hand down, the other just barely keeping his knife from my chest.  I had very few options left.
	I’d thought it would be harder.  But in the grip of mortal terror, I hesitated less than I’d ever imagined.  
	My jaws closed around his wrist, biting down until I heard a crack, and felt the squelch of blood between my teeth.  I’d closed my eyes, but nothing could block the smell, the taste, the sound of his screams.  I’d hear them for the rest of my life, however long that ended up being.  I gagged against the coppery flood, but kept my jaw locked, until I heard the knife drop from his hand.
	When I opened my eyes again, the man had gone strangely still.  His head had fallen back into the snow, body limp and contorted.  He wasn’t dead, of that much I was certain, but he’d passed out, from pain or shock or both, I couldn’t say.  I slowly unclenched my jaw, his buckled wrist falling from it, blood frothing between my teeth.
	Somehow, I dragged myself to my feet shakily and tugged my axe out of the nearby tree.  I don’t know how much time passed.  Not long.  Another gunshot in the distance, a shout in the woods.  Someone- one of my comrades most likely- had felled one of the invaders.  I think.  No one but the Jackwalds, Uki and I were down here in the woods.  I hoped it wasn’t Uki.  It had sounded male.
	More movement, but this time too far off for me to make it there in a sprint.  Even if I could move my legs.  Spirits, how many of them were there?  I wasn’t even far from camp, I’d barely made it into the woods.  They’d gotten so close to us before we’d been able to mount our defense.  They’d reach the caves soon if we couldn’t stop them.
	I chanced a brief glimpse down at the man I’d bitten before I left him.  Uki had said to kill them.  Make sure they were dead.  But this man wasn’t a threat any more.
	I managed to convince my legs to move and began sprinting towards where I’d last seen movement.  I was certain it had been two.  One larger than the other, but moving at the same time, darting between the trees.  
	One of them turned a lean muzzle towards me, hearing my approach.  He had a rifle, which slowed his spin in my direction just enough that I was able to dive behind a fallen clump of trees and snowdrifts before he got off a round.  Snow billowed up from the shot, a shower of bark flakes and pine needles accompanying it.  I instinctively clutched my paws over my head, before shakily pushing myself back up onto all fours.  Other than the gash in my arm, I wasn’t hurt.  I’d gotten down in time.  
	There was shouting, half-muffled by snow and the ringing in my ears, but I made out a few words in Amurescan.  One of the two men was saying, “. . . god-damned tree stand!  To the north, big maple.”
	I lifted my head in time to see the larger of the two men, a barrel-chested canine with a rifle slung over his back and a pistol in his hand, attempting to lean out from behind the clutch of trees they were using as cover to take a shot.  The second he did, another gunshot rang out, pitting the large, wide-brimmed hate he wore on his head and forcing him behind cover again.  I thought it had missed him entirely, until I saw the dark, spattered stain across his wrinkled muzzle.  One of his ears was chipped near in half and hanging a stringy bit of flesh from the end.
	The other man with him, a thin deerhound of some sort, was furiously re-loading his rifle.  I considered coming out from behind cover, but the big canine with the wrinkled face still had two loaded weapons as far as I knew and the space between us was too big.  I remembered all the times Finn had counted between shots, had kept track of whether someone had fired or not.  If I wanted to go after these two, which was risky in and of itself, I had to at least wait until they’d exhausted their rounds.
	I tried to get my bearings.  I was very close to the main campsite, after the white dog who’d been shot and the other man I’d bitten, I’d circled back towards where I’d heard these two men.  Uki was nowhere to be seen, which means she’d probably followed the lake and ended up farther from camp.  These two men had made it fairly close, had slipped past both of us and the snipers, and if they got much closer my father was the last line of defense for Finnegan and Sawyer.
	“Where’s the big’un?”  I heard the larger man ask through a pained hiss, clamping a hand over his bleeding ear.  
	“Think he’s down, behind there,” I heard the other reply.  I could barely see them through the clutch of holly bushes, but I could feel his eyes on me.  He either thought I was dead or hiding, but he knew exactly where I was.
	“The one up high’s gotta be Ambrose,” the bigger man growled out.  “Tree-stand missed.”
	“ I can see ‘er through the branches,” the thin canine said, ducking his head around for just a moment as he finished packing his rifle.  “Malcolm’s gotta have a shot soon.  We take her out it’s a clear path up to th’bluff.”
	They were wrong.  They didn’t realize we had another gunner in a tree stand, Kissima.  And she was actually closer.  Probably packing another shot right now.  But that wasn’t what mattered.
	What mattered was that apparently, there was another man somewhere gunning for Odina.  And I was pinned down.
	Now that I’d gotten my bearings I had a vague idea where everyone was.  I couldn’t see her, but I knew the direction of Odina’s tree.  And if the last shot had been Finnegan, that meant she was probably finishing packing another shot just about now.  Which meant. . . .
	Steeling myself, I sucked air into my lungs and shouted as loud as I could, “ODINA!  STAY BEHIND COVER!”
	The smaller man cursed and raised his rifle.  The loose bank of bushes and debris I was hiding behind would hardly stop a rifle shot now that he knew exactly where I was, so all I could do was run.  They had three chances to shoot me, so I ran for the nearest, more durable cover rather than risk charging them.  Two gunshots nipped at my heels, but neither man was apparently the kind of shot Finn was, because both of them missed.  I tumbled down an embankment towards the lake, my knee knocking hard into a boulder on my way down, white-hot pain shooting through me and making me nauseous.  
	I wrenched myself up, struggling to my feet just in time to see the smaller of the two Otherwolves bounding down the rise towards me.  He had his rifle slung over his back, and had a very large knife in one hand, presumably intending to gut me with it, until he saw me.
	I stood to my full height, for once in my life glad for my monstrous size.  I must have looked quite a sight too, with blood staining my muzzle and throat.  I began to move towards him and he seemed to think the better of it, retreating back up the hill towards his companion, who presumably still had a loaded shot in the rifle he hadn’t used yet.
	I hadn’t quite made it up the hill when a shot, followed by a feminine cry of pain, made me stop in my tracks.  The crumpling of branches followed, a noise I feared was likely something falling from the tree-tops.  I re-doubled my efforts to make it up the steep incline, the threat of the armed men up there aside, and found they were no longer there waiting for me.  I caught sight of them distantly sprinting for another grove.  The larger man had yet to pull his rifle, so there must really have been a third gunman out there who’d been able to take a shot.
	I didn’t have to take much of a guess to know who’d fallen, and where they were headed.  I had no choice.
	They were fleeter of foot than me, so even at an out-and-out run, knowing the lay of the land, I couldn’t catch up to them easily.  Even less so when I had to slow to spare a glance towards Odina’s tree.
	She wasn’t in it.
	Finnegan still hadn’t fired, which meant no one was loading for him.  I couldn’t imagine what Sawyer must be thinking right now.  But Kissima was still out there, and she hadn’t-
	The smaller of the two canines took one right in the shoulder, the blow spinning him around.  The larger canine had to stop briefly and double back to grab him by the vest, dragging him behind one of the large, carved spirit poles at the entrance to the main campsite.  
	I could smell the fear on them.  Could see it in the way the big canine turned his wrinkled face from side to side, assessing his situation.  Looking for his men.  They’d had some kind of a plan when they came into this, I’m sure of it.  But so had we.
	The thinner man was moaning in pain, clutching at his shoulder.  “Caaaap’n-“ he groaned out.
	“Sonofabitch, how many of them are there?!”  The big canine snarled out, dropping his comrade and finally pulling his rifle.  He’d barely gotten both hands on it when I got in range.
	This time, I made sure to adjust my grip on the axe before I threw it, lining the throw up with the arrow-straight, carved pole they were hiding behind.  The hollow wooden eyes of the Ursark spirit at the base locked with mine and the spirits practically sang to me as the weapon released from my paw.
	The axe flew true, burying nearly to the hilt between the man’s densely-muscled shoulder-blades.  With a gurgling cry, he reached backwards for the weapon with one hand, as though he’d be able to pull it out, and stumbled around to face me, managing to raise the rifle one-handed.
	He’d hardly need to be a good shot at this range, but I was already mid-charge.  At the last minute I ducked low, hoping to avoid the worst of it.  The rifle fired and he lost control of the weapon all but immediately, unable to handle the recoil one-handed.  The shot went wide, and I tackled him at the knees.  
	I reared back my fists and brought them down into his face, again and again.  I felt his teeth tear at one of my knuckles, but I didn’t care.  I punched him repeatedly, until my lungs were ragged, my fists were bloody and he’d stopped moving.
	Somewhere in the haze of it all, I’d heard familiar voices.  Sawyer, crying out frantically.  Finnegan, sharply shouting at the young man.  
	I looked up from the badly battered, massive Otherwolf, just in time to see what was undoubtably the most terrifying thing I’d seen all day.  Sawyer, rifle in hand, running across the long stretch of open land between the caves and the tree-line.  He was screaming for his mother, whom I still hadn’t caught sight of, but I suspected was somewhere on the ground beneath her tree-stand.  Possibly still alive, possibly not.  But that wasn’t what made my heart seize up.
	There was another Jackwald out there who hadn’t fired for quite some time now.  And he’d been a good enough shot to hit Odina while she had cover. 
	There was nothing, absolutely nothing, I could do.  I felt my body move as quickly as it could, too slowly. . . far too slowly.  He was too far away.
	It was like he hit a wall, mid-stride.  Something just punched the young mountain lion back, erupting out the back of his head.  I hardly even heard the shot, and he’d crumpled.
	Finnegan screaming Sawyer’s name was much more clear.  He’d broken cover too, I briefly caught sight of him moving between trees along the edge of camp, making his way towards the now two fallen mountain lions.  But I was closer.
	I didn’t know how many more men had made it this far, or how many had shots, but the one I knew of had just fired and Kissima had to be done re-loading by now.  Maybe she could cover me?  I should have been determined not to make the same mistake Sawyer had just made. I should have have reflected on the fact that we were all gathering towards one spot with next to no cover, which could be disastrous.  But all I could think about was that two of us had been shot, and if I somehow got to them, maybe there was something I could do.
	I dashed out into the clearing, my throat and lungs screaming in protest, chest heaving.  I’d been running and fighting now for far too long, I wasn’t built for this.  Still, I pushed myself to make the sprint as fast as I could, skidding in slushy snow and frozen, crisp leaves down the small embankment towards Sawyer.  When I got to him, my one given physical asset did finally pay off.  I hefted him over my shoulder fairly easily, and broke for the area I thought Odina must have fallen.
	No one shot at me.  The man was either still re-loading, or didn’t consider me a priority.  But I heard another shot from our side, which also could have meant Kissima was covering my run.
	I nearly ran headlong into my father, raising my axe before I realized who he was.  He didn’t flinch away from me, but grabbed me by the wrist, shouting my name.  Everything sounded like it was through water.
	Why was he. . . ?  Of course.  He’d been down here, guarding the caves.  He must have gone to Odina when she first fell.
	For the first time since I’d known her, I heard the mountain lioness crying.  It was honestly more of a wail, a guttural scream of her son’s name.  She was propped against the tree, hand clamped tightly over her hip, blood soaking through her clothing.  But she wasn’t crying for herself.
	“Give him to me-eeee. . . .”  she choked out, reaching out for me with her one free hand, her words unraveling into sobs near the end.
	I lowered the young man’s body down gingerly, my father helping me set him down beside his mother.  I had hope until his head lolled back against his mother’s shoulder and I saw the wound.  I’d thought. . . maybe it had been a graze. . . .
	She clung to him, pressing her muzzle into his fur.  It was the worst thing I had ever seen in my life.
	My father’s hand on my arm, yanking me closer to the tree, pulled me somewhat back into the moment.  “There’s still someone perched out there-“ he began, but all at once he froze up, staring past me.
	I began to turn, but my father was faster.  Without a trace of hesitation and in a bodily motion born of a lifetime of practice, he wheeled back with the spear in his hand and sent it gliding through the air.  It was like a lightning strike, connecting with the bloody-faced, large canine who’d stalked up behind us, pegging him center-mass.  
	I turned to see the enormous canine finally fall once and for all.  I’d gotten him between the shoulders, I’d turned his face into meat, but it was my father’s spear that killed him.
	Because he’d been trying to kill him. 
	The ground erupted in front of us, far too close for comfort.  Apparently the sniper, wherever he was, had been holding his shot.  But killing one of their men was enough to get his attention.  I dove for my father, dragging the two of us back against the far too-small tree we were all forced to hunker down beside. 
	Odina was still there, gone silent, her son slumped against her side.  But she was shakily removing his rifle from where it was slung over his shoulder.
	“Your wolfdog’s in trouble,” my father wheezed, as he pulled another spear from the bundle on his back.  He pointed out towards a clutch of pine.  
	I could barely see, but there was definitely an outline there, hunkered down in the branches.  He wasn’t far, but we still didn’t know if there was more than one man out there capable of taking shots.  Had Uki and Kissima gotten the rest of them, or driven them off?  I knew he had to be out there, thinking the same thing I was.  The clearing where we’d eaten most of our meals and talked late into the night was a killing zone, now.  There was absolutely no cover between us.
	“He should have stayed in the caves,” my father grated out.
	“He went after Sawyer,” I shook my head, wracking my mind trying to figure out what I could do.  “I don’t even know if he has a shot left,” I said aloud.
	For just a moment, I vaguely saw the outline of Finn’s ears.  He was trying to see us, as well.  But then another shot, somehow impossibly soon after the last one, blew off a branch near him and he ducked back again.
	“Was that another gunman?!”  My father asked, frantically.
	“I don’t know,” I moaned.  It was so hard to gauge time between shots with so much going on.  I didn’t know how Finn did it.
	“Tulimak,” a ragged voice broke through our conversation.  I looked to my side to see Odina pushing her son’s rifle towards me with her foot.  “Can’t. . . focus.  Sight’s blurry.  Get this.  To him.”
	I took the rifle, taking one last look at the bloody mountain lioness clutching her dead son, then looked out across the field.  I began to stand, but my father grabbed at my leg.  “No, there could be two of them,” he reminded me fiercely.
	“He hasn’t taken a shot since he got stuck there,” I insisted. “He has no ammunition.  They have to know that by now, too.  What are we going to do, stay pinned down here until they pick us off?  I’m a faster runner than you.”
	It was true, if barely.  I had longer legs than my father and was significantly younger, otherwise he’d probably have me beat.
	My father opened his mouth to object again, but a shot followed by a distressingly familiar yelp of pain interrupted us.  I turned towards the thin clutch of trees Finnegan was trapped behind, the splintering of branches confirming my worst fear.  He’d been shot through his cover.  Considering I could see his outline through the branches, it was hardly surprising.  They’d either given up on not trying to kill him, or they didn’t know who he was.  Or care, at this point.
	Maybe it was one man who was just an incredibly fast re-loader.  Regardless, I wasn’t going to wait any longer.  He’d just fired. . . now was my chance.
	I held the rifle to my chest and made my second run across the clearing.  This time, I was all but certain I was going to be shot at, if there was in fact a second man.  They were taking shots at all of us now.
	But I made it, with only the sound of my thudding footsteps, my heavy puffs of breath, and the trill of evening birds.  The odd calm between punctuated tragedies was more eerie than anything else about tonight.
	When I found Finnegan, he was hunkered over, teeth grit, his whole body buckled in against itself.  He had a hand clamped over the side of his chest along his ribs.  It was impossible to tell how bad the wound was, but I knew his pain tolerance, so I could take a guess.
	“Finn!”  I skidded to my knees beside him, reaching for his shoulder and closing my palm around it, needing to feel his physical presence to confirm for myself that he was real, that he was alive and in front of me.
	“Sawyer,” he croaked out, looking up at me through pain-saturated eyes.  “Is he. . . ?”
	I choked out a non-word, averting my gaze from his.  Finn’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment, his muzzle peeled back, and a ferociously angry noise tore forth from him.  
	A shot broke through the branches above us, this one doing little more than scaring the shit out of me and raining debris down on us.  But it brought us both back to the present.
	“How is he-“ I began, shocked.  I hadn’t been counting, but I knew these shots were coming too close together to be one man.
	“It’s two men, rotating guns,” Finn growled out, getting stiffly to his feet, using me for leverage.  “Like Sawyer and I.  And one of them’s a marksman for sure.  They’ve got us pinned down here with a hell of a fucking vantage point, they’re up on the rise.  I caught sight of one of them.  They can just pick us off at their fucking leisure from there.  And I can’t get a good shot at them from here, even if I had a round-“
	It was at that point he seemed to notice what I was carrying.
	“Is that loaded?!”  He barked out.
	I nodded, unshouldering the weapon and handing it to him.  He checked it over once and wrenched himself fully to his feet, removing a bloody palm from where he had it clamped over his side.  His whole left side was drenched, the tang of copper was so thick in the air it was stifling.  But unlike with the canines I’d fought, this was his blood, it smelled of him, and that made my whole body react in ways I can hardly describe.
	He walked stiffly out towards the clearing and I followed without even asking.  Everything, every worry for my life or rational fear had been cast aside.  He needed a clear shot and that was all that mattered.
	“Kill him,” I begged him between clenched teeth, walking beside and partially in front of him, providing as much of a blind as I could.
	“Keep your arms up, protect your head,” he said shakily as he braced his hip on his bad side against me, raising the rifle.  I could see his arms quivering from exertion, from the wound he’d sustained.  He blew out a long breath, steadying himself as much as possible.
	The Jackwalds’ gunshot struck me at nearly the same moment I heard Finnegan growl a low, “There you are. . . .” and the rifle he held erupted in a shot as well.
	I didn’t even feel the pain, just the numb shock of my body as it succumbed to darkness.