At smiled and said, “I didn’t want to get in your way when you made your move.”

The tension ruptured like an old sack, and they were all laughing and talking at once. Dash and Question bashed their weapons against each others’ then frolicked with their fellows underfoot. When Point related this to me he said, “I’ve seen it before. You can have males who were ready to kill each other, but they stand together like that and it forges some inner bond that just seems more important.”

They finally turned back to investigate their original mission, only to see that Star was already there, prodding it with her foot. This peculiar apparition, however, wasn’t even much of a surprise at that point. They took it in stride as they walked over to her, exchanging greetings, but no questions.

I’m indebted to Percent for a detail that put their chance meeting with a doe on the scene of an almost-massacre into perspective for me. As soon as Question saw Star, he prodded him and XClaim and said, “Get around behind her, check her out.”

They quietly sidled around behind Star and immediately confirmed what he’d told them. Her necklace appeared to be just a leather thong with a pendant of purple glass, but from the rear revealed itself as a longer loop, hung with a very large knife. It was one of At’s special ones, as much weapon as tool: a well-honed length of eight penny nail wrapped with a strip from a tin can so it had both piercing and slicing power and fitted with a handle of polished bone from the squirrel skeleton the kits had rejoiced to discover, but given up on assembling for a decorative sculpture in the common area. So one of Question’s stories from exile was proven true. His peer status grew even higher as they examined the proof of his wildest tales: suddenly rendered manifest.

Because he had told us, asking it be kept between myself and his mates, and of course Paren, who was becoming, if not the den mother, an honorary kit herself. He had seen her twice, and both times he and At had silently shadowed her through the trees, leaving her even more room than they would a raccoon or rabbit because they respected her intelligence and could see that she’d grown wise to the ways of the woods. She moved from tree to tree as much as on the ground, running out branches to take flying leaps to the next limb, jouncing up and down wildly before making her way in to the central trunk. And she was very obviously not exploring, but hunting.

They had watched her scan the woods, descending gracefully to examine possible burrows or shelters in fallen trees. Her sense of smell was obviously keener even that most of us, and she immediately focused in on any droppings she sniffed. She would examine various animal feces acutely, putting her nose close with nostrils wide to examine the spoor. She was looking for a certain animal, no doubt about it: and we all suspected exactly what animal it was she hunted with her super-knife. So she stood there, armed and dangerous, poking an investigative foot into the edges of a steaming pile of intestines and interior organs almost as tall as her own head.

The rest report experiencing an understandable awe as they approached the massive mound of entrails: it was visually threatening, spewed a blast of intriguing alien odors, and was just so impossibly huge. Percent was wide-eyed as he told Paren and myself, “It scared me even before I figured out what it was; just this huge, smelly mountain of stuff . It put my neck hairs on end, no error.”

The party stood motionless for quite some time, just taking it all in. There were so many reasons not to be able to take it all in. Ampersand had been staring in his typical unfocused way, his ears forward and whiskers weaving like limbs in a storm. Suddenly he blinked and nodded—“that way he does when you can almost hear something click in his head”, Question told me—and began to address the group.

“It was an enormous animal,” he said. “Look at your own abdomens, then at your body bulk, and calculate that it was eight, possibly ten times larger than we are. That’s an intestine there: over fifteen times the diameter of ours.”

“Way bigger than that thing that killed Gli…” Bracket started to say, but was stopped by a kick from Question, who shot his eyes at Star and made a hand gesture suggesting a little sensitivity to others.

“Correct.” Ampersand glanced around for discussion and met only inquisitive stares, went on: “We can assume that it was killed, disemboweled, and taken away. Perhaps for meat. But definitely a deliberate kill, a harvesting.” Another glance met no rebuttal.

“It wouldn’t be easy to bring down something this big. I think we can conclude it was killed by means of the explosions we heard. I’m not a big believer in co-incidence. For the same reason, we can conclude that those other beasts that almost attacked us were involved with whoever killed this thing. They were obviously summoned by those notes and obeyed blindly even when they were avid to kill us.”

Greater Than spoke up grudgingly, “All that makes sense. So we have intelligent beings in command of monsters, capable of killing an even bigger monster, maybe by explosions.”

“They could have used those attack animals to kill it,” Dollar put in. “They were pretty definitely killers, and under guidance like some biological weapon.”

“That’s a good point,” Ampersand said with his dry lecturer’s manner. “I rejected it because of the relative size of the prey and those beasts. It would have been four times their size. But perhaps it was a gentle being unable to fight off anything so obviously designed for destruction.”

“Either way, it’s a really urgent threat.” Greater Than, taking the predictable view of the situation. A view I accepted, as did everyone at the scene. “You need to put out patrols and pickets. Try to imagine those things tearing into your commons at dinner time. Not to mention whoever controls them and sets off explosions.”

“Absolutely,” Point quickly agreed. “I’ll arrange some vigilance and system of signals. But what about you? It’s your commons also. And needs defending.”

“Everybody hates Trinchans until there is death at the door,” Greater Than replied curtly. “But for what it’s worth, I’m definitely going to track this situation and scout it out. When I find out anything important, I’ll send word to you. Maybe through some of those little idiots who’ve been following us around and spying on us.”

Apparently Question and XClaim reacted to that with faces that made the whole group laugh once again. Then plunge back to seriousness when Star said, “I’m coming with you.”

“No, in fact, you are not coming with us,” Greater Than rasped out in a tone XClaim described as “Minor Trinchan Threat, Class A-3 of 10.”

“You always have trouble with facts,” Star snapped back. “One way or the other, I’m going to find out about this. Those things that jumped you aren’t that different from that red thrrirch that killed Glider. I’m going after them.”

There was some shock at that kind of language from a doe, but nobody at that point thought it odd that a female would set out into the woods after vengeance on a killing beast with teeth as long as her forearms. That was Star, we were learning. She was not typical and seemed to be getting wilder each day she lived on this new planet.

“Go home,” Greater Than said stolidly. “All of you. Don’t go out there confusing the scent. Stay away and let us handle this.”

Dash was so proud of the “us” it was disgusting, Question told me. He trotted off into the woods with Greater Than, not looking back once. Star sniffed the air and laughed. “I don’t think we have to worry about getting confused with that scent,” she said, then moved off after the Trinchan duo, taking a slightly different path into the woods. In the direction she were headed there was suddenly one of the flat, bright explosions, then another.

Point shook his ears glumly and looked around the group, “I don’t see any way any good will come out of this. Those maniacs are just going to cause more trouble, maybe get hurt. Or worse.”

There was general agreement on that, but At was already pulling out a tin knife and slicing into a length of intestine. The fecal sludge inside gave off another whole set of eloquent odors, though it looked disgusting. Which didn’t keep the kits from plowing around in it over the next few days as they harvested gut to be cut and dried and applied very usefully. One of the first uses At found for the deergut strips was replacing bowstrings.

Meanwhile, the ever pragmatic Dollar said, “That’s obviously a heart, right there. Maybe a liver, too. Should we take some slices home for food?”

Point eyed the organs distastefully. “I think that’s a completely disgusting idea,” he said. Then he pulled out his slim black knife and said, “But yes, we should.”

“Yum, monster guts!” XClaim exclaimed. “Backslash will be so pleased.”
]]> http://hyperlit.adorobooks.com/treetops/?feed=rss2&p=230 http://hyperlit.adorobooks.com/treetops/?p=226 http://hyperlit.adorobooks.com/treetops/?p=226#comments Sun, 17 Jan 2010 19:17:34 +0000 Author http://hyperlit.adorobooks.com/treetops/?p=226 As I watched the kits’ interaction there in my courtyard, swigging tea, nibbling slices of iris bulb, and basking in the glow of Paren’s pampering, I was struck by the impression that though Question’s return to their midst had quickly realigned them around his leadership, Percent did not fade back into his previous wary quiet, but retained the weight of the alpha status he had grown into during the exile. He sat on the same level as Question, joking with him and probing at his tales of his live in the high forest with his mentor.

They were all very much taken by tales of weaponry and hunting, of course, and the idea that Question had shot and killed a bird on the wing, then cut it up to cook over a fire filled them with such enthusiasm that even Paren looked alarmed at their frantic jabbering and tussling around. But they would hang on every word of any story he related, and I must confess he had my full attention as well. My life of knowledge might be longer than his, but he was speaking of things far beyond my experience: making bows and frogskin bags, fishing for minnows with improvised spears and arrows tied to light cord so they could reel in any fish they shot, eating huckleberries in the high meadow between the valleys.

And encountering animals. This was the most interesting to me, of course, viewing them as new specimens of a new world, but to the other kits they were stories of monsters and threat and courage, and drove them to frenzied cheers as he told them of seeing bears and elk and marmots. And it was those stories that showed me most clearly the development of Percent: he openly questioned these reports. Or, as I saw it, he voiced the inevitable doubts of his fellows when told of a furred creature like Greater Than, but so large that just one of his saber-tipped hands was as large as the entire body of the biggest of us. Question answered openly with no rancor at being questioned. He could easily see the problem of believing his accounts, and his calm replies did much to convince us of the incredible. And with eight days of his return an event in the forest went directly to the core of those stories and of some other reports that had troubled me even more than his giant, horned monster anecdotes.

There were more males around the dining area than usual because At and his crew were installing several improvements we’d needed but been unable to accomplish in his absence. Happily including a sink, shower and general wash stand fed through tubes from the large reservoir made of a zinc bucket. Point, Semi, and Paren were sitting at the table watching, while Question and his mates busied around the activity. I wasn’t there at the time, but made my way around to the commons as soon as I heard the explosions.

I can’t really articulate the difference, but there was something about those sounds that carried the concept of sentient activity. Not like the snapping of falling limbs or other natural sounds. There was an intent behind these sudden, ominous reports.

I am sure that all eyes turned immediately to Point, and when I arrived he was already readying a group to investigate. At, Dollar, Underscore, Ampersand, and several other males had already chosen themselves as a team to respond to this unsettling and possibly threatening event. There was some milling around and chasing off to get weapons and instruments, but Point quickly took charge, checked equipment, and headed them in the direction of the sounds, followed closely by Question and a contingent of kits.

I deeply regret having only second-hand knowledge of what they very quickly found, guided in by the raw odor of fresh offal and an aggressive, biting, somehow sexy odor unlike anything we were familiar with. I would liked to have investigate, though Ampersand’s reports are typically precise and enlightening. But moreover, I would have liked just to see something so bizarre and massive for myself.

They approached with elaborate precautions, and it’s well they did because the sheer shocking enormity of what they found was followed up by two other equally remarkable events. They had no sooner committed themselves to approaching across a flat area of grass when At whistled a warning and they looked up to see Greater Than striding out of the trees toward them, Dash at his heels. Before they—and especially At—could digest that appearance it was rendered inconsequential when two huge animals erupted from the woods and tore across the grass at them, howling fiendishly and displaying slavering jaws with teeth the size of a tall male’s forearms!

They were much like the fox, but larger, more heavy-set and decidedly noisier. And they were a deep, oily black. They flew across the clearing towards the group, most of whom stood in shock. Not Greater Than, of course. He turned and ran to a point between the ones he’d rejected and the charge of these ravening creatures, and spun into the same defense posture I had seen against the fox: crouching with his tzurix butted in the ground and the serrated knife from the StagPak in his teeth. Dash instantly flanked him in a similar pose. And At and Question ran forward to stand beside them, bows drawn and waiting the arrival of these rough beasts against which they had almost no chance to survive. Point was right behind them, with a utility knife in his hand, and the kits swarmed forward screaming incoherent defiance. They waited, all of them seem to agree, less than ten seconds.

Then a piercing whistle came from the woods, a tone so high-pitched it was almost beyond our hearing. I’m told that you can’t hear it at all, but it’s as audible to dogs as it is to us. The dogs stopped, Point told me, as if they had run into a glass wall. They stood, chests heaving, drool dipping, teeth chopping, hungry throats issuing horrifying growls and roars, looking at their intended prey from a distance of not more than four body lengths. Then two more whistles sounded and they turned and ran off without a backward glance.

The little group of defenders stood motionless and silent for what must have seemed like a long time, shaken in twisted skeins of fear and relief, then Percent said in a conversational tone, “It appears I have soiled my fur,” and they all started laughing. Even—and everybody who told me this did so with the same incredulous headshake—Greater Than.

Greater Than uttered what was obviously a stock phrase for such situations. “Put your weapons down and submit to the order of the Stand.”

“What Stand?” The shrill question from Euro brought up another good point. Which he couldn’t resist twisting. “You don’t know what world you’re standing on, do you bully-boy?”

Before Greater Than could respond Underscore chipped in, “Ascending souls don’t recognize your authority, anyway. The stand exiled us, so they have no further say in our lives.”

This brought another stock phrase. I got the feeling there was a manual somewhere with a sequence of responses, the last one being violence. “If you continue to hold weapons, you are in defiance of Stand principles and will forfeit a hand. Submit to reason. Now.”

Well, “reason” is always a subjective concept. And unlikely to hold any sway if kits get involved. Which they did. They had melted away when Dash and Question jumped out of their circle to join their mentors, but were back now, swarming down the trunk of the Oak carrying sharp, polished eight penny nails. They formed a sort of phalanx across the supper grill from Greater Than and gibbered at him truculently.

Greater Than shared my impression that he could easily sweep the kits away with a few swings of his brass baton, and wouldn’t run away from arrow pricks like the fox. And was furthermore conditioned to his very core to stand firm and retaliate. But I also saw Dollar walking back to the fire holding one of the large nails. Various metal instruments were appearing in hands, and even some of the females were producing tin knives. I noticed a certain consolidation in the group, people shifting into a shoulder-to-shoulder formation that made me wonder if it was an innate trait.

Point stood to one side of the axis of confrontation with his hands spread wide apart, unconsciously I’m sure, as though to restrain and protect Semi and Star from what appeared to be happening. The forces were brought to opposition and hovered there, awaiting the precise word or gesture to ignite into casualties and incurable recriminations. I could think of nothing to say.

The tension was palpable between the two Trinchans and the rest, like a magnetic field. At only heightened the tension when stepped forward into the no-man’s-land in between and paused significantly, his bow held across his chest. I could hear breaths being taken, smell the esters of harsh, ancient body chemicals being exuded. Then At threw his bow down at his feet, held up both hands with empty palms towards Greater Than, and said, “We’re not going to obey you any more.” Question’s bow fell on top of his a heartbeat later.

I almost collapsed in relief and heard a sharp woof of expelled breath from Point. But it wasn’t over, was it? Not until Greater Than conceded what had been offered. And he stood silently, no sign of relaxing his pose.

There was no letup of vigilance among the rest, either. The kits in particular pressed forward, silent for once in their lives, their animosity focused on the big Trinchan. I reflected that so much of the worlds’ troubles stemmed from the vivid impulses of the young. And was immediately served with a rebuke.

Dash had stood on guard, but looked troubled during the entire encounter. Now he stepped forward from the cover position he’d assumed at his leader’s side. Greater Than made no move or utterance as he walked forward towards the others. He stopped and faced his fellow kits, tchurix at port arms. He stood there, obviously seething with inner conflict. Then he tossed it on top of the two bows and turned to Greater Than with tears falling onto his stubby whiskers. “I’m sorry,” he called out in a cracking voice. “But they’re us! Don’t you see?”

Humiliated and hounded by feelings beyond his age, he ran to the trunk and started climbing, sobbing. In a flash Question was right behind him. The other kits, and their elders looked at one another. Moved, but still awaiting the resolution.

Greater Than stared around, simmering behind a blank mask. Then he said, “Fine.”

That was when I felt and smelt the tension release. That one word meant it would probably be okay. Still…

The Trinchan tucked the baton into his harness and pulled his Trinchan out of the ground, but held it in an offhand way that wasn’t particularly threatening. He looked up in the limbs where Dash had disappeared, swept a glare around to each one of us. And said, “I must have some brain malfunction to have put up with this whole thing anyway. You want to be so free and make your own decisions, to ahead. You’re on your own.”

Gently, but with a solid ring of truth, Tilde said, “You’ve got it backwards, Greater. You’re the one who’s been on your own. Now you can be one of us.”

His nostrils flared and ears whipped again as he barked, “NO! I am not one of you. You are convict scum: you’re just the trash they made me take out!”

I happened to catch Point’s sharp reaction to that. Once again I wondered if he guarded some answers to our being here. Or if I was just reading it into his gestures. He spoke in a bluff, comrade-in-arms tone, “Look around you, Trinchanrank. Do you see anybody out there that looks like us? We’re castaways here. Pioneers. Colonists. New gods. We need to stick together. Didn’t they teach you that in the barracks? To stick together?”

Greater Than ignored his sentiments, but as if reminded of something, he looked up to the tree and gave a peculiar four-toned whistle. Little Dash appeared on the lowest limb, Question at his side. He studied his mentor nervously, then descended the tree, his friend following him. He walked up to Greater Than staunchly enough, but was obviously upset and insecure. Greater Than stared down at him over folded arms.

“You’ll always be different from the rest, Younger. You are marked.” He leaned down to tap Dash’s faint black chevrons. This isn’t something I did or you did. You were born to be who you are. What I am doing is teaching how to be better at it.”

Dash, relieved, stood waiting. Greater Than straightened up, sneered at our company and said, “Pick up your weapon. We’re leaving.”

Dash ran to grab up his tchurix while Greater Than headed towards the StagPak. Point was already there, and nodded to him as if they were already in agreement. “Don’t worry,” he said, between warriors, “I’ll keep a good eye on it for you.”

I admired the diplomacy of that. It would have been difficult to say if Greater Than was fed up with arguments at that point or spoiling for another confrontation that he could win to even things out. As it was, he nodded stiffly at the pilot and turned away. Point stepped up behind him and softly said, “We still need you, you know.”

Greater than half turned and looked down at him impassively. He said, “Do you?” Then turned again and walked away from the lighted circle of the fire. Dash fell in behind him unhesitatingly.

Backslash, as good as Euro with cutting remarks, called out, “Don’t go too far. It’s dangerous out there on your own.”

Neither of the fading gray backs paused and Tilde was kinder. “Come back tomorrow night, we’re having pie.”

Question grew more and more agitated as they dwindled into the darkness. He looked helplessly to At, got only a sad shrug. He suddenly dashed after the pair, but just as quickly stopped and stared until they’d faded into the night. Turning back, he walked towards the fire in a dejected slump.

As he passed At he got a manly pat on the shoulder and Carat and Stroke were immediately all around him, smothering him in soft fur and ear strokes. The other kits, as much envious as supportive, I suspect, swarmed around him as well. But he did not seem greatly consoled. Looking out into the black woods I was also far from overjoyed at the prospects of not having Greater Than around to persecute us anymore.

Semi and Carat ran to At for lingering hugs that were as much reassurance for them as welcome for him. Backslash also came to embrace him, but in the custom of her cult omitted the deep nostril contact the other two had lavished on their savior. They also grabbed up Question for some extravagant smooching . The prodigal kit had, in a matter of minutes, attacked and chased off a huge monster and received a very adult embrace from the most gorgeous does of our troop.

Greater Than made his distaste for the return obvious, but there was little he could say under the circumstances. I had a feeling he was smoldering and about to erupt into some dark Trinchan spasm of repression. He stomped back to the circle, obviously running a mental tally of us and inspecting anybody who had been near the bloodshed, but pointedly ignoring the returned exiles. His count came up short and he quickly scanned the area and spotted Star standing motionless at the spot where her friend had died, staring towards the woods. I thought she was stunned, and motioned toward her, hoping Point or Semi or somebody would go to comfort and soothe her. But when Greater Than called her name she turned to show a face bearing no trace of fear or sorrow, just a deep, seething bloodlust.

I think we were fortunate that the fox dragged Glidegirl’s remains away so nobody would have to confront what would have been a horrible sight. I later learned that Star, accompanied by Minus, Underscore and several armed and danger-seeking kits, had braved another attack to follow the scent of fox until she found what was left of her friend and buried it all under the largest stone she and her party could move. That sort of attention to the dead is unusual among us, and I noted Star as having deeper currents of feeling than I would have thought. We are not deeply passionate folk: emotions wash over us like the weather, leaving little residue. Tragedy and ecstasy are eclipsed by new moods in the time it takes to express them. But I think Star was affected profoundly by her loss and was not allowing it to slide off her tail and be gone.

She was also, at the moment, in absolutely no mood to be ordered around by Greater Than, who bellowed at her to come to us at once. She stalked to us with her tail whipping, the same avenging fire we’d seen once before. Greater Than was unaware of the temper of her approach, having turned to address the rest of us. In one of his poorest exercises in judgment to date.

Ironically, he had an advantage of position. What we had just witnessed was strong argument that he was not paranoid about totally unforeseen threats and that we needed to fortify and be more vigilant. But he quickly destroyed that edge with his typical oblivious approach to personalities and feelings involved.

“This proves what I have been saying,” he growled, immediately reducing the cherished Glidegirl to his own object lesson. “From now on, females and kits do not leave the common area without guards. Tomorrow we will all work on fortifications for this area. Starting tonight…”

“Why don’t you just shut your big, ugly snout?” Star yelled from behind him.

We were all shocked by such a brusque challenge and insult, but Greater Than more so because he hadn’t seen her steaming up behind him with her ears back, mane stiff and fingers clenched. He whirled around to face her and loomed big with expanded chest as she walked fearlessly up to him. He had opened his mouth for a crushing reply, but she jammed her finger right up into his face and screamed, “You couldn’t protect us before! It took the help of one of us you drove away! Eat your stupid rules and laws! And don’t ever, ever call me to you again, like I was recruit or prisoner or animal! Now just shut up, you hear me? Shut up!”

It wasn’t any kind of reflex: he examined her a moment before shooting out his hand with startling speed for someone so big and chunky and grabbing her by the proud red flag of her crest. He pulled up, bringing her to her toes, and held her at arm’s length. Once again he started to speak to her, presumably in an even more punishing manner, but was again interrupted from behind.

“Take your brute hands off her.” At spoke calmly, in a level tone, but with an authority that made everybody look at him, including Greater Than. The slim artisan was standing firm and ready, his bow in one hand. He said, “Set her down and treat her as an equal, you hulking idiot.”

There were some gasps, but also a undercurrent of muttered approval. Greater Than seemed torn between taking steps to quash At and not following his order to release Star. He resolved that by throwing her to the ground. She hit, rolled and was immediately up and heading back at the warder in a combative mode, but Point stepped in front of her and quelled her with some difficulty. I was close enough to hear him quietly tell her, “Wait. This might turn out well.”

I wasn’t sure of that at all. Greater Than was advancing towards At in a slow, ponderous gait, his ears wrapped tight to his skull and his big yellow canines visible outside his lower lip. I had feared something like this, but was our second blood-letting to come so soon after the first?

He stood his ground with no show of fear. Question materialized at his flank, carrying the bow he’d been showing to his admiring little fellows. With a dramatic gesture, At thrust his bow overhead, making a stark “T” shape in the firelight. In the same calm tone he said, “Look at this.”

Greater Than instantly reacted into a defensive posture, the brass bolt in his hand as if by magic. Dash popped to his side, holding his tchurix . Apparently realizing he’d been misinterpreted, At hurried on. “It wasn’t me that defeated that monster, it was this. Technology. Our advantage over animals. We need to use our brains here, to use everything each of us has to offer. We need to make decisions as a group. There is not one of here who can decide what’s right for us alone.”

A very impressive declaration, I thought. A quote from an unlettered technician that echoed powerful precepts agreed upon by great thinkers over generations. Not a statement of rebellion, but inclusion. It now lay in Greater Than’s hands to accept it or attempt to smash it down. I hoped for the best.

She and Star were quite close, despite her affiliation with the Ascension exiles or pilgrims, depending on who you asked or what had befallen their fortunes in the last day or so. And the fact that they were together so much was congenial because the two were a striking pair: Glidegirl as beautiful as Star but in a quiet and serene way, her pale violet fur and subtle cream markings a perfect foil to the other’s lurid blaze. She was popular among the other does of her generation, as well, and her co-cultist Stroke practically worshipped at her feet.

The doe clique often drew apart from the main group after dinner and had taken to retiring to a large, moss-covered rock by the water’s edge to chatter, groom the female kits and perhaps dance a little. I often thought their group would make a wonderful painting, the females clustered on the soft moss, Star and Glidegirl and Carat and Semi shining in their center. On that day they were dancing around the rock, laughing at some slight jest, when Glidegirl spotted violets blooming at the edge of the underbrush. She ran to pick one, then held it up to the view of the others, modeled it as a hat and pectoral adornment while they applauded and poked fun. She was the center of attention, laughing animatedly with the purple flower setting off the paler violet of her pelt, so every one of us saw exactly what happened.

The fox flashed from out of the brambles too fast for me to really understand what happened. For a confused second I thought Star had sprung some surprise on her friend. But there was no confusing the snap of the jaws around Glidegirl’s body. She screamed twice, then seemed to mercifully lose consciousness as the fox shook her. Dropping her to the ground, the animal starting ripping her apart, splashing blood as it tore her open and greedily swallowed pieces of her. The sheer horror of it–a beast hunching over our friend with her blood dripping from its snout and fangs, noisily chewing into her vitals–immobilized most of us. For a frozen moment we watched a predator devouring one of us, too shocked to move. Even the kits were silent, staring aghast at the massacre.

Given the characters of our two leading males, it’s not surprising that Point and Greater Than were the first to snap out of the mind-numbing paralysis, nor what paths their actions took. As soon as they moved, the kits seemed to awaken to reality and started wailing; a wilder kind of shrieking than I’d heard from them before. Females joined them, and many males as well. There was something more elemental and subconsciously brutal about this attack than our previous bouts of terror such as the crash-landing.

Point ran immediately towards the does and kits, his frantic hand motions bringing Underscore, Strikeout, and Dollar with him in his probably foolhardy drive to protect them. Greater Than snatched up his the always-sharpened tchurix he made from a sixteen penny nail and headed straight for the fox, loping across the grass with powerful strides. Without the slightest delay Dash had his own tchurix in hand and was running behind him. Bracket, who had been backing away from the sight of Glidegirl’s evisceration shaking his head and whimpering, seemed to take heart from Dash’s example and took a faltering step after the two Trinchans, then broke into a run. I gained more respect for his intelligence when he halted abruptly, ran back to the fire to grab a burning stick, and carried it towards the doomed attack on the red, bloody monster.

There is no question that attack was undertaken with cold, hard courage, but I was more impressed by the valiant sally led by Point. The four males ran unarmed into a proximity to the fox that would have allowed no escape had it turned on them and the females. I noticed that none of them even looked at the huge animal as they ran towards the helpless females. It struck me that I might be watching a scenario in which our ranks would be drastically depleted by the death of our fertile females and most useful males.

But the fox was still feeding and keeping an eye on the charging Greater Than, who had started screaming a guttural war challenge, presumably to fix its attention on himself. Point’s rescue party reached the rock and started snatching up kits while roughly shoving hysterical does out of harm’s way. Point wisely made no attempt to return to the safety of the Oak, but pointed to a large tree trunk washed up on a pile of larger rocks. The others immediately saw that their best hope for protection lay in burrowing into the rock pile. They ran for it, the females now moving purposely and silently, carrying kits as they ran.

All but Star, who made no move to run for safety with the others. The males had too much on their hands to compel her, so she stood alone in the open, quivering violently with crest erect and ears laid back and twitching. Her knees were bent, her fists clenched and seemed to be hyperventilating. I hoped she didn’t pass out, but could see no steps I could take. She stood where the fox could have been on her in two leaps, but instead it turned to confront Greater Than and Dash, whose particular display of insane bravery had succeeded in engaging its full, dire attention.

Eyeing the two, who were both screaming now, and Bracket running up behind them carrying his firebrand, the fox dropped Glidegirl’s ragged remains and moved towards them, sniffing the air and dripping reddish slaver from fangs the size of Dash’s legs. It crouched lower and lower as it slid toward them and I could envision exactly what would happen: a spring, a snap of those huge teeth, and we’d lose two more of our population.

Greater Than visibly squared off and steeled himself to meet the lunge, crouching to plant the butt of his tchurix on the ground. Dash immediately copied the tactic, which I could see was a sound one, but couldn’t think that it would buy any time or advantage against the pounce of such a huge enemy. Its preparation to hurtle forward was so obvious from its posture that a shrill, mournful cry went up from all of us in general. Then the fox gave a barking yelp and leaped straight up into the air.

Coming at the moment of greatest suspense and fear, this unexpected action drew shrieks and gasps from many of us. The fox twisted in mid-air, coming down facing the woods. It rolled on the ground nipping at its buttocks. Something had happened, had caught it at exactly the same tense moment as our own, startling and scaring it. It gave up nipping at its own rump and stared, searching, into the brush.

I didn’t actually see it from where I stood, but others caught the shining flash from the briarpatch to the beast’s nose though they had no idea what it meant. None among us was unaware that the fox jumped again, yowling in pain. As it thrashed its head, even I could see a slim shaft protruding from the soft dark flesh of its nostrils.

Then At and Question ran from the thorny cover screaming and pulling back their bows to loose more shots. Dropping to one knee, At released an arrow that leapt across two bodylengths and stuck in the fox’s foreleg. Question continued charging, firing his bow as he ran and screaming a high pitched war cry of his own devising. His arrow missed, but only because the fox had leapt away from them. It made for the woods, scooping up Glidegirl’s body as it ran, and vanished into the darkening trees.

Stroke was still screaming, jumping up and down in place emitting an ululating shriek of terror and pain that was affecting the kits, and even us adults. Greater Than watched the fox flee into the woods, then turned and stomped back among us radiating anger. As he passed Stroke he grabbed her at the nape and pressed his fingers into the base of her ears, shutting off blood flow to her brain until she lost consciousness and fell silent to the ground. I have to say it was a relief. That poor girl received brutal handling every time Greater Than touched her, but it was always to the best for her. A curious relationship.

The group around the fire was joined by the females and Point’s party, all running and looking over their shoulders towards the now completely dark woods. Hugs were exchanged, masculine taps of congratulation were passed, kits were soothed and coddled. We stood in circles around the fire, underlit by the ruddy flicker, and essentially huddled together against the fears of the dark. Something had changed between the dying of day and fall of night. The paradise we had become accustomed to had shown that it had hungry teeth, and reached out to bite the tripes out of each one of us. We were no longer alone, no longer completely safe. We were no longer all survivors.