A couple of days ago I posted the first part of ‘For Blood’, with Markus and his son hunting down the beast terrorising their village. But that isn’t the complete story. What of the beast itself?

For Blood (II)

The upright creature saw her. She acted on instinct, claws tearing through the ridiculous hides they covered themselves with. The creature fell.

But not before it had made that grating screeching sound. The noise would alert others.

She used her tail to balance as she reached down, over the flat-tree barrier, and scooped up one of the grubby animals that squealed. Of course the animal let out a noise, so she silenced it with her teeth.

Then she tucked it under a forelimb and ran.

The small-glow was bright, orange in the blackness overhead. Her sharp eyes scanned the ugly stone lairs the uprights made. She smelt their stink, as well as the smell of their death-sticks.

They were dangerous, these uprights. But they had weaknesses. If she were careful she could creep up to them — they neither heard nor smelt her until it was too late. And when the small glow came they needed flames to see by.

And they were slow. She heard them stumbling around, heard their strange grunting and cooing. She smelt their fear, acrid and sharp.

Fear made them stupid. But stupid with death-sticks could still be fatal.

She pulled the carcass tight to her side and crept to the edge of one of their stone lairs. The noise of the uprights, and their scents, were too close. They were ready for her.

Could she fight her way out? Possibly. But she’d have to let go of her prize. And fights were risky. Those death-sticks were a menace. Victory was not guaranteed.

So, run. Run where they won’t follow.

Climbing the stone lair was easy, even with the carcass under one fore-limb. The lair was made of many stones placed together, with softer solid-sand between. Her claws bit into it, providing purchase. The sloping top layer, with the flat, cold stones they used, was no hindrance. Her wide pads provided grip. Her tail gave balance.

The small-glow cast her shadow, away from the waiting uprights. She passed them, then looked to the forest. It was so close, but to reach it she’d have to race across grassland, then through the gap in the flat-trees with which these strange creatures had surrounded their lair.

There were two of the creatures by the gap. Only two. She could deal with them.

She dropped. The babbling from the uprights she’d passed faded. Their clumsy steps echoed. Yes, they were weak. Their bare feet couldn’t cope, so they covered them with those thick hides.

She crept to the edge of the stone lairs and focused on the gap, on the two creatures. They stood to either side of the gap, one large, the other smaller. She thought it might be one of the young, but of an age and size that it could almost be as dangerous as the adults. Especially with that death-stick it held.

But she had no option. Her litter needed food. Since the uprights had settled, since they’d pulled down so many of the trees and raked over so much of the natural ground, scavenging had been limited. The uprights hunted the sleek antler-creatures and the ground-snufflers, taking them for themselves. Soon, she knew, her herd might have to find a new home.

But not yet. The litter were too young for a journey like that. And with her mate gone — the reason she knew how fatal those death-sticks were — she couldn’t risk travel without another chaperone.

So she had no option.

Decision reached, she ran. She moved like the wind, here and there. She sprung. She whipped her tail for momentum.

And the uprights raised their death-sticks.

She smelt the warmth in the air, so close. She heard the cracks, then the soft thuds behind her.

She ran on. Closer. The uprights stood to either side of the gap, narrowing it. Too narrow for her to fit while she carried her prize.

Three steps away, she angled for the young — they’d be easier to push aside. But the older one held his stick in both hands. As she passed he swung.

There was a moment of pain across her flank. It wasn’t enough to slow her.

The older upright fell. It left a wider gap, and she used it. She bounded away, towards the trees.

The small-glow disappeared, branches shielding it. But she could see enough. And she knew this place.

As she ran she listened. The calling of the uprights faded. They didn’t often enter the trees in the small-glow, needing the big-glow to light their way. They didn’t follow her.

She slowed to a walk.

Soon, she’d reach the nest. The carcass under her arm still held life-warmth — her bite had stilled it but hadn’t drained it, so there was still the precious fluid inside. She thought of her litter, and saw them squabbling over the prize, filling themselves. She knew her oldest — by moments, but these things mattered — would take the most, but they’d also make sure the others all had their share. And, if they were careful — if she showed them the way — the prize would last many days.

And she’d train them. She’d show them the ways. She’d warn them of the uprights, and of the death-sticks. She’d teach them the what-had-happened.

Maybe, next time there was the need for food, she wouldn’t be hunting alone.

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If you enjoyed this tale, there are 99 more in Fragments of Darkness…, out in a couple of days but available to pre-order at a lower price now. Check it out at books2read.com/FoDEoL.