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Authors: David Drake, Jim Kjelgaard
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sounds, and scents. To capture the puppies he must get down on his hands and knees and crawl part way into the den. Before he did so he wanted to be sure that no danger threatened. But he could see nothing unusual.
He returned his attention to the puppies, who were pushing as hard as they could against the back end of the cave and watching him with bright, hostile eyes. Hawk crawled into the cave and reached out his hand.
Instantly the silver-gray puppy was upon it. Launching himself with all the fury at his command, he slashed with his white, needle-sharp puppy teeth. Hawk grimaced as he withdrew his scratched hand. The puppy took a stance in front of his companion, as though to protect him. He snarled and bristled fiercely.
This time Hawk struck hard, sweeping his hand forward and clenching his fist around the puppy’s forepaws and body. The puppy squirmed, and tried to get his teeth into play. He could not because Hawk gripped him too strongly. Instantly transferring the silver-gray puppy to his left hand, Hawk snatched the other with his right.
As quickly as possible, dragging the pair with him, he withdrew from the cave. He stood erect and retested the winds, then looked and listened. All was peaceful.
The puppies were squirming to free themselves. The silver-gray had got hold of Hawk’s horny left fist and was enthusiastically chewing on it. Unable to get any purchase, or to brace his body, he could not break the skin with his small puppy jaws. But he could make himself felt. Hawk took the puppy by the scruff of his neck, tucked him under his right arm, and kept his right hand tightly closed around the dun-colored one. The pups squirmed and wriggled, trying to get away, and Hawk cuffed them.
He stooped, shouldered the little antelope, clasped his spear and throwing-stick in his left hand, and started back toward the fire. As he neared it, he stopped and slunk into a thicket. A saber-tooth, a big one, was lying on a ledge of rock, studying the fire. Cautiously Hawk retraced his steps. He took a new direction, around the tiger, and trotted lightly into camp.
Having reached the safety of the fire, Hawk glanced back at the ledge upon which lay the saber-tooth, and sniffed the breeze to get the tiger’s scent. It was a big male, and the very fact that it was so stealthily intent on the fire was proof that it was hunting. They would have to be very wary. Hungry meat-eaters had almost endless patience. If this one had decided to watch the camp, it might wait for days on end. But there was no danger as long as they stayed close by the fire.
Willow, who had been out gathering seeds, was grinding them in a hollow stone she had found. She left her work and rose, for the first time able to walk with some freedom. Now she had only a painful limp. Young and strong, she would now recover quickly from the wound.
She looked at the puppies in Hawk’s arms, and took them from him. Then she sat down, cradling the pups and playing with them. They wriggled from her arms to the ground, and Hawk raised his club, scowling his annoyance.
This was not the way to handle the puppies; they would run away at the first opportunity and should be confined or crippled so they could not run far. But he stayed his descending club. The puppies seemed perfectly contented to stay near the girl. When one ventured a little way from her, it returned as soon as she snapped her fingers. Hawk forgot about them.
He stretched out beside the fire and went instantly to sleep. This he must do when he could, for only rarely was there an opportunity to rest. He dared not relax when he went hunting, and night required constant vigilance.
An hour later he sprang erect, his hand shooting out to the club at his side. Then, looking for what had awakened him, he saw the silver-gray puppy making a ferocious attack on his fur girdle. The other one was tumbling over and over in the grass, waging a fierce mock battle with a stick. Smiling at their antics, Willow
He returned his attention to the puppies, who were pushing as hard as they could against the back end of the cave and watching him with bright, hostile eyes. Hawk crawled into the cave and reached out his hand.
Instantly the silver-gray puppy was upon it. Launching himself with all the fury at his command, he slashed with his white, needle-sharp puppy teeth. Hawk grimaced as he withdrew his scratched hand. The puppy took a stance in front of his companion, as though to protect him. He snarled and bristled fiercely.
This time Hawk struck hard, sweeping his hand forward and clenching his fist around the puppy’s forepaws and body. The puppy squirmed, and tried to get his teeth into play. He could not because Hawk gripped him too strongly. Instantly transferring the silver-gray puppy to his left hand, Hawk snatched the other with his right.
As quickly as possible, dragging the pair with him, he withdrew from the cave. He stood erect and retested the winds, then looked and listened. All was peaceful.
The puppies were squirming to free themselves. The silver-gray had got hold of Hawk’s horny left fist and was enthusiastically chewing on it. Unable to get any purchase, or to brace his body, he could not break the skin with his small puppy jaws. But he could make himself felt. Hawk took the puppy by the scruff of his neck, tucked him under his right arm, and kept his right hand tightly closed around the dun-colored one. The pups squirmed and wriggled, trying to get away, and Hawk cuffed them.
He stooped, shouldered the little antelope, clasped his spear and throwing-stick in his left hand, and started back toward the fire. As he neared it, he stopped and slunk into a thicket. A saber-tooth, a big one, was lying on a ledge of rock, studying the fire. Cautiously Hawk retraced his steps. He took a new direction, around the tiger, and trotted lightly into camp.
Having reached the safety of the fire, Hawk glanced back at the ledge upon which lay the saber-tooth, and sniffed the breeze to get the tiger’s scent. It was a big male, and the very fact that it was so stealthily intent on the fire was proof that it was hunting. They would have to be very wary. Hungry meat-eaters had almost endless patience. If this one had decided to watch the camp, it might wait for days on end. But there was no danger as long as they stayed close by the fire.
Willow, who had been out gathering seeds, was grinding them in a hollow stone she had found. She left her work and rose, for the first time able to walk with some freedom. Now she had only a painful limp. Young and strong, she would now recover quickly from the wound.
She looked at the puppies in Hawk’s arms, and took them from him. Then she sat down, cradling the pups and playing with them. They wriggled from her arms to the ground, and Hawk raised his club, scowling his annoyance.
This was not the way to handle the puppies; they would run away at the first opportunity and should be confined or crippled so they could not run far. But he stayed his descending club. The puppies seemed perfectly contented to stay near the girl. When one ventured a little way from her, it returned as soon as she snapped her fingers. Hawk forgot about them.
He stretched out beside the fire and went instantly to sleep. This he must do when he could, for only rarely was there an opportunity to rest. He dared not relax when he went hunting, and night required constant vigilance.
An hour later he sprang erect, his hand shooting out to the club at his side. Then, looking for what had awakened him, he saw the silver-gray puppy making a ferocious attack on his fur girdle. The other one was tumbling over and over in the grass, waging a fierce mock battle with a stick. Smiling at their antics, Willow
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