Page 25 of Blacktail

Blacktail’s eyes narrowed. He wagged his tail once in understanding, though perhaps not sympathy.

“But tonight the Old Kitty Mother stirred my dreams. She showed me what you have done, and a little of what is to come. I woke to the sound of men screaming as only prey scream. As I drew near to you, I found the scent of their terror on the night breeze. I think that even my masters smelled it. They were uneasy in their rest, though I doubt that they understand why. And my kittens, who might have been proud, ask among themselves ‘What is this strange new thing? What manner of beast is it that dares to hunt man?’ ” The cat shook his head bitterly. “ ‘Dares to hunt man.’ They get it from their mother, no doubt. If I had known what poor heirs she would give me I would have killed her, not mounted her.”

Blacktail lashed out with his forepaw and slapped the cat across his ribs, hard enough that he bounced off the wooden planks of the fence and yowled in pain.

“Never say such things,” Blacktail rumbled. “Your kittens are a great gift. No matter what you may think of them, they still carry hope for your bloodline. Many of your betters have not been so fortunate. Remember that.”

“Apologies, lord,” the cat said quietly. “I meant no offense.”

Blacktail swished his tail in acknowledgment. “This hunt they raise against me—will it truly be so much?”

“The Old Kitty Mother believes so. In my dream it was very great indeed. The two-legs rather enjoy coming together against beasts, I think. It reminds them of the old days, when there were more of us to kill. For a slaughter such as this, there will be no limits on their rage. Very soon the hills and valleys will boil with them, and there will be no safe place in all the land.”

“If the day has come when a two-legs can best me in matters of woodcraft, then perhaps I deserve to die.”

“Lord, if that were all there were to it, no one doubts that you would conquer. But men have many slave animals, foolish dogs with weak minds but clever noses. Not one of them might match your skill at the hunt, but together…”

“Ah,” Blacktail said grimly. “I take your meaning. With the noses of dogs guiding the gunshots of the two-legs, the small forests left in this world will become smaller still.” He sighed. “Tell this Old Kitty Mother of yours that I thank her for the warning.”

“No thanks are necessary. But the Old Kitty Mother also offers her assistance in this matter. If you permit, she might be able to smooth your path a little.”

“If you think you can help, then by all means do.” Blacktail turned as if to leave, then turned back. “Oh, and cat?”

“Yes, lord?”

“Where am I to find this Old Kitty Mother?”

“Lord, the Old Kitty Mother is not without craft. She encourages you to attend to your own safety. When the time is right, she will find you.”

“Very well, then,” Blacktail said, and walked away into the snow. His first thought was to head north, back toward home, but then he thought better of it. Not there, he thought. At least…not yet. So instead he turned south. The forests were thinner that way, but…

I am the hunted now.

ii

Even among the other bloodhounds, Rex and Cephus were regarded as having gifted noses. Few spoke as kindly of their brains.

Rex and Cephus were of the same litter. They had been showing their master, a man they thought of as “Dad,” the true path to his prey since they were pups. At least in their minds, the three of them were a pack. Rex and Cephus acted as the nose and ears. Dad, who understood about gunshots, served as the tooth and claw. They slept on the floor of his den on cloth that bore his scent. When Dad’s mate was away, sometimes he called them into bed with him and they slept together as a pack should, even though it angered his mate greatly.

Dad woke them before dawn. He was excited; his eyes wild and wide, his hands shaking as he put on their leashes. He licked his lips a couple of times while he gathered up the guns. Cephus thought he’d caught a whiff of horny-scent when he packed them all into the hindquarters of Car. Now they sped along the black path into the foothills where they did most of their hunting.

“Is it a hunt, do you think?” Rex asked.

Cephus pondered this. “I guess?” he said, then poked his nose out the window. “Smell that?”

Rex took a sniff of his own. “Bunny! More than one, I think!”

“You think that’s what we’re here for?”

“Could be.”

“Gosh, I hope it’s a hunt,” Rex said.

Cephus wagged his tail, remembering how it was to chase fox and deer through the autumn mist, tall grass rustling against his muzzle, his paws wet with morning dew. “Nothing better than a hunt,” he said. “Well, maybe bacon.”

Car skidded to a stop outside a house. Ah, crap, Cephus thought. Not a hunt, then. Dad opened the hindquarters of Car, and they stepped down onto gravel.

“Do you smell that?” Cephus whined, suddenly uneasy.