Hyroc

by Freestone, Adam;

  To his dismay, all were empty. When he had finished with the last trap, convincing himself the spiders were no longer at the cliff face, he cautiously made his way to the incline leading to it. From a safe distance, he watched the area for any sign of the spiders. He got a start when a shadow passed over the ground in front of him. Focusing on the shadow, it was in the shape of a bird. Above him, he saw a circling black bird. It was Shimmer, again. He swiped his arm angrily through the air. “Get out of here,” Hyroc yelled at the bird. “You just startled me.” That was the last thing he needed in a place where he had nearly died days before. He received an angry squawk in return and Shimmer made no move to stop circling. With a sigh, Hyroc began warily reassembling his trap. Since Huntress was dead, there wasn’t any reason for him to move his trap. He couldn’t help being a little sad at that fact. It had actually been kind of fun trying to figure out how to avoid her. Now their game had ended.

  Still feeling some effects from the spider venom sickness, he was in no mood for wondering around for hours hunting and decided to fish in the stream next to his cabin instead. About an hour in, he caught a small trout. After dispatching the fish with a quick stab through the brain, he gutted it, laying its innards on the ground beside him to use as bait. He turned away from the innards to move his pole closer, but when he turned back to bait his hook, the piece he had set aside to use first was missing. He raised his leg to see if he had accidentally sat on it. There wasn’t anything beneath him. Shaking his head in puzzlement, he baited his hook with another piece and cast his line.

  Shimmer alighted on the branch of a tree on the other side of the stream then began preening his wings. The bird suddenly stopped, making a bobbing motion with his head as if he were looking at something. Glancing behind him, Hyroc caught sight of a small slender shape darting into the underbrush. Moving his eyes to his bait, he saw another piece had vanished. Then where the shape had disappeared, he saw a weasel peeking at him through the foliage. He recognized it as the same weasel that had bitten his ear at the creek. He sighed irritably as he set down his pole and stood. Grabbing his bow, he fitted an arrow to the bowstring and started backing away from his pile of bait. When he was about ten paces from the fish, the weasel tentatively stepped out of its hiding place. Drawing the bowstring back, Hyroc eagerly waited for the weasel to move farther away from cover so he could put a sharpening shaft through the beady-eyed miscreant. The weasel took a few more steps forward, then stopped to test the air. That was all Hyroc needed. The light brown, speckled shape of a cat exploded out of the bush onto the weasel. With a quick bite to the neck, the cat dispatched its prey.

  A bolt of fear shot through Hyroc seeing the cat was a speckled mountain lion cub. Heart pounding, he held his bow at the ready as he rapidly scanned the surrounding forest, searching for any signs of the cub’s mother. Seeing none, he backed away from the cub, listening intently for any sound of her approach. When he was a comfortable distance away, not wanting to leave his pole, he impatiently waited for the kitten’s mother to arrive and retrieve it.

  Several minutes passed, but the cub’s mother never appeared. It seemed strange a cub this young would be so far from its mother. Had it been abandoned? It dawned on him the cub might have been the blur he saw escaping from those spiders. He waited until he was certain his assumption was correct, before slowly making his way back over to his fishing pole. When he got close, the cub raised its head and made a growling noise at him. Hyroc froze, looking around to see if there was a furious adult cat tearing toward him. To his relief, he didn’t.

  He stood there looking at the cub and the cub returned his gaze. Neither one of them had parents, siblings or anyone that cared if they died, or at least, not anymore. The cub was a survivor like him. It didn’t simply lie down and die. It had escaped its fate. The odds were stacked against it, but it was determined to live. The two of them were not so different. He had been looking for a companion to make his seclusion more bearable ever since he arrived at the cabin. Maybe now he had found one.

  There was just the issue with the cub being a mountain lion. The kitten was about the size of a house cat but Hyroc knew that would eventually change. Maybe he could train it. Even dogs could be trained. That’s what he had heard anyway. Why couldn’t he do the same with the cub? Ursa could probably help him; if what she had said wasn’t a lie. Even if his plan proved impossible and he had to eventually release the cub when it grew up, he would still have a companion until such time.

  Hyroc crouched down and started patting the ground, while calling the cub over to him in his most inviting voice. The cub simply stared at him without moving. Hyroc rolled his eyes in irritation at himself. He wasn’t dealing with a house cat, it wouldn’t come to him no matter how much he called. Fishing around in his pocked, he withdrew a tiny dry piece of three-day old grouse meat and offered it to the cub. The cub let out an initial growl, but stayed were it was. It watched Hyroc’s outstretched hand a moment, then made its way over to him. The cat tentatively sniffed his hand then the pro-offered meat. Once it seemed sure he posed no danger, it snatched the meat out of his hand.

  With the cub distracted downing the snack, Hyroc reached over to stroke its back. As soon as his hand touched the kittens’ fur, it wheeled around, sinking its needle sharp teeth into his flesh. Hyroc yelled out in pain, making the cub bolt away from him. The cub turned around and hissed. Hyroc stuck the bleeding part of his hand into his mouth.

  “Maybe I should name you after that weasel,” Hyroc said coolly. The cub’s ears went flat against its head and it hissed again. Hyroc smirked at the response. “How does Tom sound?” The cub’s ears remained in the same position and he growled. It seemed the cub hated the name. Lucky would probably be a good name, since the cub was obviously lucky to have survived that spider attack. But the more he thought about it, the name Lucky seemed to be a favorite for owners of three-legged or one-eyed dogs and it was asking for trouble. He should probably use something less accident-prone. Especially with the luck he’d been having lately. He wondered about naming the cub Thomas. No, naming it after his only friend at the boarding school seemed an unacceptably strange thing to do, and would only serve as a depressing reminder. The name Kit popped into his head. A kit was the name for a fox cub, if his memory served right. That might work because the cub seemed smart like a fox.

  “How does Kit sound?” The cub’s ears returned to their normal position and although still glaring, he appeared pleased with the name. “Then Kit it is.” Hyroc paused thoughtfully. “But before I take you home I need to catch some more fish, otherwise the two of us will be going to bed hungry.” The cub stared at him blankly a moment, then walked back over to the weasel and resumed eating it. “And thank you for killing that little monster.”

  By the time dusk arrived, he had caught three more fish.

  “Okay Kit, we should probably get headed home,” Hyroc said, after tying his fishing line around his catch. Kit lay beside the bloody remains of the weasel fast asleep. Hyroc tapped a rock with the bottom of his fishing pole, waking Kit. “Come on, wake up, you can go back to sleep when we get to the cabin.” He indicated its direction with his eyes. “It’s just over there.”

  Kit stayed where he was and stared at him. With a shrug, Hyroc set down his fish and using his knife, sliced off a strip of meat from one right above the tail. After cutting the meat strip into pieces, he stuck them in his pocket, leaving one in his hand. He held his hand out and started calling Kit. The cub’s eyes focused on the meat chunk. Kit studied Hyroc’s hand then cautiously walked over and snapped up the treat. Hyroc took several steps back, pulled another piece from his pocket. In likewise manner, the cub ate the new piece of meat. This time when Hyroc walked away, the cub followed.

  “That’s a good boy,” Hyroc said, before picking his fish back up. With only the use of an occasional incentive, the cub trailed him all the way to the cabin.

  As Hyroc waited for the fish to cook, Kit wondered over to the deer-rabbit
hide, sniffed it, and began gnawing on it.

  “HEY!” Hyroc yelled, rushing over and snatching it away for him. With his ears flat against his head, Kit growled. Ignoring his protest, Hyroc examined the damage to the hide. Other than a chew mark, the hide seemed unscathed but the hair was starting to fall off and it had the beginnings of a rancid decaying smell to it. It was starting to rot. Hyroc sighed. “Never mind, it’s yours,” he said, tossing the decomposing hide to Kit, who happily tore into it. “It’s useless now.”

  Although displeasing, its loss was not much of a setback, though any other hides he got would suffer the same fate. He needed to figure out how to prevent the hides from rotting; otherwise, he could never use them. His thoughts turned back to the family of hunters. He could probably figure it out by watching them like he had done with the two boys skinning their deer. Food wasn’t much of an issue for a day or two, so he could devote at least that much time to watching them without worry.

  “You know what Kit,” Hyroc said, looking toward the cub. “I think it might be time for me to start paying closer attention to my neighbors.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Lost Goat

  Upon waking, Hyroc was relieved to no longer feel sick, but his shoulder was still very itchy and seemed even sorer than it had been the day before. With a yawn, he swung his feet over the side of his bed. He got a start as he reached for his boots when something with claws grabbed his bare foot. Quickly lifting his leg, he saw a light brown paw sticking out from under his bed. Smiling, he grabbed a boot and playfully poked the paw with the end of it. The paw began batting at the attacking footwear. After a moment, he lifted the boot then put it on. Setting the now protected foot down, the paw resumed clawing at it. Hyroc put the other boot on and was careful not to step on the paw as he stood. Stepping over to the fireplace, he used his tinderbox to get a fire going. He retrieved an already cooked slice of fish from the table and began to eat it. Kit emerged from beneath the bed, staring hungrily at the slice of fish.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I almost forgot about you,” Hyroc said apologetically. It had been a while since he had needed to consider another living thing. A stab of longing and worry struck him when he suddenly thought of June. What had happened to her since he left? Had The Ministry arrested her? It was a serious offense to be associated with a witch. And people in those situations would often be tortured for information and a confession. The mere thought of June being in pain because of him sent a shiver down his back. Then he remembered his promise. He hated that promise, but he had made it and needed to keep it. It was what she wanted. No matter what had happened to her, it was what she wanted.

  Forcing his thoughts from her, he cut another piece of fish and tossed it on the floor in front of the cub. Kit dove on it the instant it made contact with the wood. Hyroc regarded the cub fondly. The two of them was what he needed to concentrate on. This was what was important.

  When Kit had finished eating, he wandered back beneath the bed and laid down. By the time Hyroc had donned his hunting gear the cub was already asleep. He felt a measure of relief at this. He hadn’t quite figured out what to do with Kit while he checked his traps, but it seemed today he didn’t need to. Moving quietly, he headed out the door, closing it behind him.

  All of his traps were empty, again. Returning to the cabin, he opened the door to find everything that had been on the table strewn across the floor and Kit was lying on top of it wide-awake. With an annoyed sigh, Hyroc grabbed Kit by the scruff of the neck and set him on the floor. After picking everything up, he led Kit to a tree in front of the cabin. He tied a small piece of twine left over from making his traps around the tree’s trunk. While Kit was distracted sniffing a plant, he pulled a smaller loop around the cat’s neck. Kit bit at the rope and struggled vigorously to get free. Once he realized he could not, he began yowling for help. Hyroc tossed him a large piece of fish. Kit instantly stopped making noise, content to bite his treat. Hyroc hoped by the time Kit finished eating, he would have forgotten about the twine collar. Hyroc didn’t like the idea of leaving Kit all alone, but it seemed a terrible idea to bring a mountain lion cub with him to watch the family of hunters. He hadn’t seen any predators or signs dangerous things ventured into the valley and he reassured himself nothing bad was going to happen while he was gone.

  He headed down the trail that had led him to his cabin. When he reached the end where it met the road, he warily looked for anyone coming his way. Seeing no one, he quickly crossed it and headed into the trees on the other side. When he could barely make out the road’s flattened surface, he started in the direction of the hunter’s cabin. Nearby, on the other side of the road, he found a well-worn trail leading off to the cabin. He continued walking until he was sure he had moved past every structure around the cabin before crossing the road. As the back of the cabin and shed came into view, he was disappointed to find the two skinning-tables were empty and no one was working here. He carefully moved through the trees to see if anyone was out in front of the cabin. The girl and a woman – Hyroc assumed was her mother because she seemed older and both shared hair color and similar features – were working in the garden. On the porch, the older man and ten-year-old boy were both sharpening arrowheads. The oldest boy and the father were nowhere to be seen.

  He watched the four of them for another hour, hoping someone would start working on an animal hide. When no one did, figuring today was just a bad day, he headed off to try scouting the village for a tannery. Further down the road toward the village, farms came into view on either side of the road. People were working in the fields, and with much of the forest cleared away here; it seemed unlikely he could sneak past unseen. He thought about finding a way to circumvent the farmsteads but decided against it and headed home to fish; getting food was more useful right now.

  The next day, thinking he might have more luck in the morning, he opted to check the other cabin first thing after breakfast. Taking the same route as yesterday, he arrived at the cabin. He watched the girl milk their goat then feed their chickens. The father and oldest son were still absent and no one worked out back yet again. The only explanation Hyroc could think of was the two of them must be out hunting.

  He picked his way around the eastern side of the lake then on to the mountain to check his traps. He was ecstatic to find a regular hare in one of his traps. After he had skinned the carcass, he remembered with great frustration he still had no way to preserve the pelt.

  Three days later, the family members he had been waiting for finally returned. They had a big dark brown hide that had the shape of a very large deer and a mountain of meat. He watched in anticipation as they headed over to the work area behind the cabin with the hide. After giving the hide a quick look over, they washed it in the lake before bringing it to the shed. The boy and father disappeared inside. Hyroc couldn’t get a good view of what they were doing. He faintly heard what sounded like liquid sloshing around inside of something. The son emerged from the shed and carried a smaller and much lighter colored hide over to a wooden rack.

  The father then came out of the shed holding a strange, curved blade, with handles on both ends. Using the blade, he began scraping off the hair of the hide on the rack with surprising ease. The father did this for a time then the son took over, and they did this until the hide had been scraped clean. They returned to the shed causing more sloshing noises then exited it without the hide. The son closed the door and the two of them went inside the cabin.

  Hyroc covered his face with his hands groaning in frustration; after all this time spent watching them, he was still no closer to figuring out how to preserve any of his hides. How could this possibly be so difficult? Taking a deep breath, he subdued his aggravation by assuming his answers would be inside the shed. But the only way to find those answers was to sneak into the shed at night. He smirked a little. That at least shouldn’t be a problem.

  He waited long after dark when he thought everyone should be sleeping before approaching the door to
the shed. The door was secured shut with a wooden board fed through two U-shaped door handles. He slowly lifted the board from the handles, careful not to make any sound. As he opened the door, he cringed when it made a frighteningly loud creaking noise. He anxiously watched the cabin, waiting for someone to come out to check the shed. When no one eventually did, taking a relieved breath, he slipped inside the shed.

  Within, he saw numerous tools hung on or propped against the walls and two upright wooden barrels. It was obvious the sloshing noises had come from the barrels. When he pulled the lid off one barrel, he saw some kind of liquid. It smelled of damp burnt wood and musky wet fur. He was about to put a finger in the liquid, when he began to wonder if touching an unknown substance was a good idea. Maybe the liquid in one of these barrels did something to make scraping hides easier. If that was the case, then he probably shouldn’t touch it. He put the lid back on and moved on to the second barrel.

  When he pulled the lid off this one, his was struck by a pungent and extremely unpleasant odor. He coughed, burying his nose in the crook of his elbow. That was the only disadvantage of having a more sensitive sniffer. Along with smelling food and other pleasant things better than a normal person could, foul odors were also stronger. He quickly reached over with his other arm and put the lid back on.

  He had seen what was in the barrels, but he was clueless to the composition of either liquid and knew nothing of their purposes beyond, they seemed important. The father and son would know but talking to them seemed suicidal and he doubted they would reveal the secrets of their trade even if he were a normal person. Unless he could glean some sort of answer from observing the family further, any future hides he obtained would rot. Trying not to think about his gloomy situation, he slipped back out of the shed and quietly made his way back to his cabin