Chapter 21 — Teeth in the Dark

I hadn't been idle after finding the tracks. I'd made a club then — a forearm-thick branch stripped clean, the end worked over a stone until it sat heavy and blunt. Not a weapon of finesse. A tool that would swing true when it had to. I'd tucked it beside the shelter, fingers worrying the grain to keep from thinking too much.

Night fell like a blanket. I dozed upright, hand on Merlin's side. He breathed shallow and ragged. The stream whispered. The ravine held its breath with us.

The sound came: claws on wet stone, a ripple in the dark. Merlin lifted his head, low rumble. He tried to rise and flinched; the glow in his chest sputtered and died. He collapsed back, eyes fixed on the gap.

The shape moved into the moon-slit water: long, lean, scaled like patches of coal, three claws digging the mud. Yellow eyes picked us out. It sniffed once and issued a low, wet sound. Not quite a growl. Not quite a hiss.

I stood, club already in my hands where I'd left it. No thinking. Old training took over — roots in my feet, breath timed, hips driving. It lunged.

I met it with the first swing and the club answered. Wood struck flank, dust and wet spray flew, and the creature twisted. I used its momentum, shoved with my shoulder, forced it toward the ravine wall. Claws raked my ribs; pain flared hot, but I kept balance. I struck the head with the knob again and again until the yellow dimmed. It collapsed with a final shudder.

Silence crashed down. My breaths came loud in my ears. Merlin whined and nosed my hand. I dragged the carcass close, hands raw and slick, and worked the hide until I found meat. Tough, strange, but meat.

I fed Merlin first — small strips pressed to his muzzle. He ate, tail thumping once, exhausted but focused. I chewed after him, raw at first, then cooked near the little fire I coaxed from dry roots and sparks. Smoke. Grease. The taste of something that kept you alive.

The club lay across my knees, ugly and honest. I wrapped a rag around my ribs where the claws had scored me and listened to Merlin breathe. For the first time in days the hunger in my bones eased. We were bloodied, bruised, and breathing. That would have to be enough.

— Eighth day, evening, first successful hunt —