by Lily Thomas
This was the last safe spot for her.
Now all Aiyre had to worry about was food stores and getting herself to another pronghorn clan, or even a human clan. She wouldn’t be able to shift around a human clan, not because humans didn’t know about them, but because it might cause them to toss her out. They might take her in for the winter months if they thought she was just human though.
She was a great hunter, and she could help provide them with enough meat to take care of the share she ate. She just needed more than herself in a hunting party. Otherwise, rabbits and other small game would be all that she would be able to hunt by herself.
Aiyre settled in front of her fire and wrapped a couple of thick furs around her shoulders. Now that she was settled down with nothing more to do, the horrors of the past few hours rushed back to her.
Everyone she’d known was either dead or wandering around out there in the frigid cold. She felt like she should search for them, but traipsing through the snow alone could be dangerous if she ran into any animals… or any more sabertooth shifters.
But at some point, she would have to leave.
Daerk followed the pronghorn shifter as far as he could, but the snow seemed to be against him. It fell in waves, covering her scent and preventing him from finding out where she hid away.
He’d be back at some point, and hopefully, he would find her again. She’d stirred something inside him, and he knew he had to find her and explore his drive to see another glimpse of her. There was something in her scent that was drawing him in.
With one last sniff to the shifting snow, he turned back, heading towards his village. His thoughts wouldn’t forget the sight of her though. She plagued him. Those hazel eyes of hers. He’d seen the sorrow in those lovely depths. She lost her whole clan in one night. He couldn’t even imagine not having his clan nearby.
She wouldn’t be able to live out the winter on her own, and he wondered what her plan was, like how she’d hunt enough food for herself… and keep herself sane. Being alone all winter would be hard on her emotionally.
His large paws crunched against the snow, allowing him to keep from sinking into the deep snow as he traveled through the forest.
The village rose up before him. The fur huts scattered around the snow, smoke rising from each hut. It was nice to be back, but it came with its problems.
“Where have you been?” An irritated voice rang out behind him.
Daerk turned his head towards the voice, and his fuzzy ears zeroed in on the source of the sound. Talking of a problem, the biggest one in the village was striding straight towards him with a dark look marring his face.
If Daerk wished to speak, he’d have to change forms, but he was reluctant to do so because he hated speaking with Brog. If he didn’t shift, he’d also piss off Brog and getting into a brawl would do no one in this clan any good.
Daerk shifted and instantly regretted it as the cold air puckered his bare human skin.
“Where have you been?” Brog repeated baring his teeth slightly like Daerk needed a reminder he was in charge.
“To visit the pronghorn village that you decimated.” Daerk did his best to rein in his anger. No need to get himself or Brog all riled up.
“They were starving us,” Brog growled, no hint of remorse in his voice or eyes.
“They were not.” Daerk gave Brog his back and strode into the village. The cold was puckering his skin, and his feet demanded he get off the freezing snow before they fell off.
“The pronghorns were taking all our food and invading our hunting grounds. You will see, Daerk, you will see. Now that they’re gone we will see better times.” Brog promised him.
Daerk shook his head. Brog had killed all of the pronghorns for no reason, and soon the clan would realize this when winter kept going on as poorly as it had before. Brog just wanted a reason to shed some blood, and he’d gotten his chance.
He would challenge Brog, but he had to bide his time. Soon more of their people would realize Brog was a selfish leader, only looking out for his own needs. All he needed to do was sit back and wait while Brog dug himself further into a hole.
If he challenged too early, Brog might have more supporters than he did. Time. He needed to wait and be patient. There was no need for him to challenge Brog right now.
Daerk pushed open his hut flaps and found a welcoming fire burning brightly in his hearth. Thank goodness. One of the women in the clan had been kind enough to see to his fire while he’d been out.
He quickly grabbed some new fur clothing and covered himself. He’d have to go out and retrieve the clothing he’d left in the forest, but it’d have to wait.
“Brog destroyed them then?” Rir poked his head inside Daerk’s hut.
“He did.” Daerk sighed.
“I hoped his men were bragging about nothing.” Rir meandered inside the hut and stood in front of the fire with his hands held out to the warmth.
“Unfortunately, not.” Daerk still couldn’t forget about the people strewn about in the pronghorn village. “It was a sight I never wish to see again.”
“Will you take the leadership?” Rir whispered his eyes darting up to look at Daerk.
He shook his head. “No. It’s not my time. I first need everyone to realize his actions did nothing to save us from starvation. Then I can make my move, and our people will support me.”
“You’re more patient than myself,” Rir smirked. “It’s good I just follow your lead, or I would have challenged him for such an act. I can only imagine what you saw.”
“You would get yourself killed.” Daerk scoffed and led the way out of his hut.
“Thanks.” Rir grumped.
“I’m not saying you couldn’t battle Brog and win. I’m just saying he has a lot of allies who’d team up on you.” And that was one of Daerk’s fears. That he might be outnumbered.
“True.”
“We need to go out and hunt something to bring back for tonight. Those last couple of horses didn’t get us far.” Which was what he had been doing until he had to go see if Brog indeed had attacked the pronghorns.
“I will find Tor.” Rir headed off deeper into the village.
Daerk smiled as a couple of women passed by giving him open smiles. He was a fine specimen, and there were plenty of women he could fill his nights with, but then he’d be just as bad as Brog.
Taking several wives just because he hadn’t found his mate was disgusting. Daerk wouldn’t do such a thing, because if he found his mate, he wanted to make sure there was nothing uncomfortable for her here in his village.
Brog was too desperate and greedy, and it was the same reason why he ruthlessly murdered the pronghorn clan.
Still the pronghorn shifter he’d seen earlier pestered him. Her scent had been delightfully irresistible as it tickled his nose. Daerk snorted as he shoved the thoughts of the pronghorn away. A pronghorn and a sabertooth shifter would be a farfetched match.
Their children could be either shifter, and he wasn’t sure he’d know how to raise a pronghorn.
Daerk shook his head. He’d smelled her from a distance, and that distance could’ve confused his nose, even in his sabertooth form. A pronghorn as a mate would definitely be a stretch. But some hunting with his closest friends would help ease his mind, both from the pronghorn female and Brog.
“I found him.” Rir and Tor strode towards him.
“Then let’s get going. Anything we can bring back will do us good.” Daerk led his men to the edge of the village, where they stripped off their clothes so they could shift without tearing their clothes to shreds.
As he pulled off his thick fur shirt, he noticed a flock of women gathering at the edge of the village to watch.
“They’re here to see the mighty Daerk.” Rir teased.
“And yet a few of them appear to have eyes for you as well.” Daerk tossed back. They did indeed have eyes for Rir and Tor. Three fine men who had yet to find their mates. Of course, they would attract the attention of unmated females
.
Daerk shed his pants and boots and let the shift overtake him. It was a quick process that only took the blink of an eye. Daerk shook out his muscled body, his fur fluffing with the movement. He loved his sabertooth form. He let his claws slip out from his toes, the long nails scraping the snow below him.
He turned to see if Rir and Tor were ready.
They both had shifted. They each gave a shake of their massive bodies after their change. Rir yawned, his long pink tongue rolled out between his large canines.
They were ready to go, so Daerk bounded into the forest leading them away from the village. It seemed like he spent more and more time outside of the village if only to gain some peace and quiet away from Brog.
The snow fell, obscuring their view, but they had their trusty noses leading the way. As long as the wind assisted them and the snow didn’t fall too thickly, they’d come back successful. He only hoped they’d be lucky enough to land a larger animal, something that would stock their stores for most of the winter.
A rabbit skittered through the forest, as they snuck through the undergrowth. Not large enough to really care about, but Daerk couldn’t resist the chance for the chase. It would allow his mind to relax.
He launched himself, scattering snow on Rir and Tor who were trailing behind him.
Puffs of white air surged out of his nostrils, as he pushed himself. The rabbit zagged, and Daerk zigged, opened his mouth, but the ball of fluff managed to get another zag in and his mouth closed down on empty air with a snap.
He heard a chuff from behind him and found Rir and Tor giving him toothy grins. Their ability to communicate in these forms was limited, but he knew they thought him silly for giving chase after a rabbit. The rabbit had one thing over him, the ability to turn without a moment’s notice.
But it’d been fun and got his mind off Brog, so he didn’t really care what they thought.
With a few more minutes of prowling around, they left the forest and broke into a snowy meadow. In the distance, they saw the dark forms of horses trying to find grass below the snow. Their hoofed feet dug at the snow, trying to expose any nibble of grass that they could.
Daerk twitched his long tail, sending Rir and Tor off in another direction. They’d worked together many times before, and words weren’t necessary to communicate. He would spook the horses and drive them towards his waiting friends. With any luck, they would land a horse.
Crouching low to the ground he prowled around the grazing horses, careful to stay out of sight. The falling snow helped to hide his massive form, and he allowed it to build up on his shaggy tan coat.
The horses snorted, plowing the snow with their hooves too distracted by the search for food to notice him getting closer.
Daerk waited in a crouched position when he was close enough. He wanted to make sure Tor and Rir had enough time to position themselves.
Once he determined enough time had passed, he launched himself, growling for good measure.
The herd of horses snorted and turned tail, galloping directly towards where Rir and Tor waited. A few horses broke off of the main group in their panic, but he ignored them. He just needed the majority of them to go in the correct direction.
When the stallion started to stray from the path, Daerk charged him to get the stallion to lead his mares back to the correct path.
It worked.
Rir and Tor jumped out of nowhere. Rir latched onto the neck of a horse, and Tor onto the neck of a second horse. Tor’s horse went down without much of a struggle, but Rir’s horse was still standing and trying to dislodge him with sharp hooves.
Daerk jumped onto its back, and his razor-sharp claws dug into the horse’s flesh. He clamped his large canines into the back of the horse’s neck, while Rir held steady at the front of the neck.
The horse slowly went down.
Daerk let loose and stepped off of the horse, once it ceased moving. They’d killed two horses. This would be an amazing amount of meat for their clan after the last two horses they’d taken down. It wouldn’t last them all winter, but it would relieve them for long enough for them to hunt some more.
Now all they had to do was get the kills back to the village. It would take some time and effort, but it was all well worth it in the end.
He butted heads with his companions to celebrate their success. Rir tackled Tor, and they fell into a ball of fur as each of them tried to get the upper hand over the other one. He let them celebrate, and then he grabbed Rir by the scruff of the neck pulling him off Tor.
Then he grabbed a hold of one of the horses with his mouth and began to drag it back to the village. Rir took hold of the second kill, and Tor trailed behind until either of them needed help.
There was nothing for him to do but think as he dragged the kill across the frozen ground.
That pronghorn’s scent still pestered him, and he felt the need to go back and see how she was getting along. Where had she disappeared to in the forest? Had she found a safe place to hide? Was she able to gather enough supplies from the decimated village to survive in the cold winter climate? Would she be able to gather more food for herself as the winter set in? Questions swarmed in Daerk’s mind, and he felt oddly responsible for the woman, as though it was his fault that her clan had been destroyed. After Brog’s attack, she wouldn’t be likely to accept any help from a sabertooth. He couldn’t blame her, if she ended up hating him.
But first, he’d have to find her and make sure Brog didn’t learn about her existence. The moment Brog heard he’d found a living pronghorn, it would be the same moment Brog would kill her just to spite Daerk for his opposition. It was no secret Daerk didn’t agree with killing off an entire neighboring clan.
They finally arrived at the edge of the village and shifted back into their human forms.
“Good hunt.” Rir smiled triumphantly.
“Brog will be pleased with it, but unhappy with you.” Tor pointed out. “He only leaves the village to attack others, instead of hunting for the clan. You make him look bad with every kill you bring back.”
Daerk knew that. “I’m not about to let my clan starve just to please Brog. I can handle Brog and any irritation he might throw in my direction.”
People flowed out of their huts and rushed over to take apart the two horses. Everything would be used, nothing wasted. And tonight, they would give thanks to the animals for their generous donation to their people.
“Again, you are our great hunter.” Brog’s voice rang out, venom dripping on every word.
Daerk turned to find his leader staring at him with contempt glowing brightly in his dark eyes.
“Just needed a way to ease my boredom and hunting seemed like a good idea.” Daerk did his best to brush off the successful hunt. “Rir and Tor were the ones who brought down the horses.”
“Just as long as you remember who the greatest hunter among us is.” Brog glared over at him. “I’m the one who took care of the pronghorn problem.”
“Always.”
Daerk wanted nothing more than to rip the man’s throat out with his canines but now wasn’t the time. He needed Brog to keep proving himself an unfit leader so that Daerk would have enough people standing behind him when he took control.
“We will harvest the meat, and then celebrate our good fortune in the caves!” Brog announced to the rest of the clan, which had gathered around to listen in to the conversation.
Daerk left, unable to bear any more from Brog. Grabbing his clothes from the ground, he proceeded towards his hut.
Daerk dipped his fingers into the red paint and drew lines going down his face. He’d given Rir and Tor the privilege of carrying the horse heads to their cave for the ceremony of thanking the gods for such a great hunt. It would help keep Brog off his back, and they had been the ones who targeted those two horses in the first place. All he’d done was chase them in the correct direction and help finish them off.
He rose from in front of his hut’s fire. He glanced around. Every year
that passed had him longing more and more for his mate. She was out there. Somewhere. Just waiting for him to discover her. Once he found her, he would be able to fill his hut with more than just himself and his weapons. He was ready to wake up to a warm female, and maybe even the crying of a child who wanted to be fed.
With a sigh of unfulfilled longing, he left his tent.
His clanmates chanted past, and he stepped into line with them. They were making their way to the sacred caves, with Rir and Tor leading the way. They held the horse heads above their own heads proudly. Large grins plastered all over their faces.
Everyone’s face was decorated with paint, and Daerk couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. It was good to see his clan having such a good time. They didn’t celebrate every kill, but getting two horses had been a gift for them.
The gods hadn’t given up on them quite yet. Now it was time to thank the gods and hope many more hunts like this would happen throughout the winter.
Within minutes, the dark mouths of the caves could be seen not too far ahead of them. As they entered the stone corridors, their torches lit their way as they weaved through the inside of the hill.
They arrived at a spacious center cavern, and Brog took his position near the shaman, Eron.
Daerk glanced around at all the drawings on the walls. Their shaman was skilled. Perhaps Daerk might have the honor of seeing them drawn someday, or even have the chance to draw some of the paintings himself.
The flickering light of the fire showed scenes of their clan in their sabertooth skin chasing down prey or finding their mates. This cave meant everything to them. The smoke lined walls showed just how many generations had used this very cave for the same ceremonies.
The horse heads were brought up to the shaman, and then Rir and Tor took their position back in the crowd of clanmates. The shaman took a couple of large bowls and walked around to each person of the clan to allow each person to sip from its contents.
The shaman ambled up to him, and Daerk looked down into the bowl of blood which had been harvested from the horses they’d killed.
