FIFTEEN
W hen I woke up, the badger was gone, and I could smell food cooking. Iâd slept the whole night through, but I wasnât feeling completely rested. Iâd dreamed of a battle. In that fight, a small warrior in a striped robe was battling with a giant creature. That warrior had tethered himself to the ground like some of our fighters had done in the old days when they faced the enemy. It was a sign that he would never retreat. Just before I woke, that small warrior turned to me, his body bleeding in a dozen places, and spoke.
I will die before I let this enemy past me.
*Â *Â *
Phil was waiting for me by the fire. Heâd kept it burning through the night. And when heâd gotten up, he had boiled water and made tea. He also had cooked a small pile of honey-sweetened corn cakes. He toasted them on a thin flat stone heâd brought in last night before weâd locked ourselves in.
I looked around for my badger friend. There was no sign of him, but that was not all that surprising. Heâd probably gone out to hunt as soon as the sun came up. I just hoped my other, smaller, friend Jumping Mouse had found some place that was badgerproof to hide.
I sat down on the other side of the fire from Phil, who handed me a cup of tea and a corn cake.
âGood morning, sleepyhead,â he said.
âUnh-hunh,â I replied. Usually I didnât like being called sleepyhead, but I liked the way Phil said it, not as anything like an insult, but in a friendly teasing tone. As I drank the tea and ate, I thought about mentioning my dream to Phil. But I hesitated, and as I did so, that troubling dream began to fade. Even though I tried not to show it, I began to feel as close to relaxed as Iâd been since starting out on our journey. But that feeling did not last long.
There were no windows in the building. So it was with considerable care that we opened the door. Just in case something was outside waiting for us to emerge.
âOver there,â Phil whispered. âIs that blood?â
A few feet away to our left, the ground showed the sign of a struggle. Torn earth. Gouts of blood and fur. And the dry grass beyond it was streaked with a trail of blood that led back down into the small pines. I looked over at Phil and shook my head. Whatever else we might do, we were not going to follow that trail, which led away to the southeast.
âWhat happened here?â Phil said, holding his .45 out in front of him as he stood sideways in the doorway.
I didnât answer at first. I just stood there studying the signs. Some of that fur, a piece as large as my palm that must have been torn away with the skin beneath it in the fight that had taken place, was red.
Red.
That gave me part of the answer. A firewolf, perhaps just a single one that had caught our scent and followed us here, had been waiting to attack us when we left the building. But what had attacked it? Then I heard a low panting sound from the side of the building. Half growl, half whine.
âRose,â Phil said, âwhat ââ
I held up my hand for silence before he could repeat his question. I moved to the corner of the building, bent low and looked around it.
âNoo!â I holstered my sawed-off and ran to kneel by the badger. It lay on its side, next to the entrance to its burrow that led under the wall, its hind legs twitching. Its small body was covered with wounds, and its breathing was labored. But it still held â with grim determination â another piece of red-furred flesh in its teeth.
My dream made sense now. Perhaps, even through the thick walls and tightly sealed door, Iâd heard some of the fight going on in the early hours before I fully woke.
As I reached to slide my hand under the badgerâs head, Phil was holding something over my shoulder. A water canteen.
One of the badgerâs eyes rolled up at me, and I saw recognition there. It opened its mouth, releasing
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