My heart stops as it lunges for her. I cry out and surge forward, my spear flying. It flies through the air and slams into the side of the metlak reaching for my precious mate. It staggers and then falls forward, still reaching for her. I cry out in anger and storm through the snow, moving to stand in front of her.
Another creature bellows and begins to beat on its chest, sending a furious call forth across the snows. The other metlaks respond, and one charges forward. I’ve seen these tactics before. They will rush us to the edge of the cliff and pick off our carcasses later, once they know we are dead. I refuse to fall back.
Sssssthok.
One of Liz’s bone needles flies past and appears in the eye socket of one of the bigger males. It groans and falls into the snow, twitching. Her shot is beautiful, and I see the potential for the weapon.
“Watch your arm,” she calls to me as she raises another arrow and aims it. When another leaps for us, she shoots again, and again, her bone needle hits its mark. The metlak is dead before it can hit the ground.
It is a thing of beauty to see, and fierce pride in my mate surges inside me.
Then, the remaining metlaks scream and charge forward all at once.
My instincts honed from years of hunting, my need to protect fierce within me, I surge forward with a yell of my own. I hear Liz gasp, but it only encourages my ferocity.
They will not get near her. They will have to storm over my dead carcass first.
I launch into the first one with a fury, my bone blade slicing against its wooly neck with such ferocity that it’s nearly severed. I lunge for the next, and instead of fighting me, it ducks away. Another lands on my back, pulling at my hair and clothing. Sharp teeth sink into my shoulder and I hear Liz scream. I jam my knife into the one in front of me, even as the one on my back slides to the ground. I look down and see another one of Liz’s thin bone arrows jutting from its throat.
“I’ve only got the one left,” she cries out behind me, even as two more jump onto me and a third attacks from the front. One on one, they would be no problem. But metlaks are savage, ripping creatures. Already their claws and teeth are sinking into my skin, tearing at me. I growl with pain when one slashes across my face, and blood veils my sight. “Raahosh!” she cries from a distance. “You’re moving too close to the ledge! I—hey! Get back!” Her warning voice changes to one of fear, and I snarl and turn toward her. Three are heading for her, pacing in her direction, their large teeth bared. The one on my back bites at my neck furiously, and I feel shockwaves go through my arm even as my blade sinks into the chest of another.
Must save my mate.
The thought rings in my head over and over again.
Must save Liz.
She is everything.
With a brutal cry, I grab the two metlaks in front of me. My fingers sink into fistfuls of shaggy fur and I pitch toward the cliff.
“Raahosh! Look out!” she cries.
But she does not realize my plan until too late. I hear Liz’s scream of anguish as I topple over the side of the cliff, taking five of the brutal creatures with me.
I will even the odds this way. Maybe she can escape the two or three left.
The memory of Liz’s face swims before my mind moments before I hit the ground with a sickening crunch, and all goes dark.
LIZ
I scream in horror as Raahosh’s long body goes flying over the edge of the cliff, several of the creatures flying over with him. I rush to the side where he went over and look down. It’s at least a thirty foot drop and Raahosh is on his back, crumpled in the snow. One of his legs is at an odd angle and he lies atop a dead metlak. The others are strewn around him, not moving, and the snow is spattered with blood. I can’t tell if he’s alive or dead.
I can’t be alone out here. I can’t.
I can’t lose him.
Hot panic rushes through me. I only have one arrow left and there’s three of the creatures remaining, along with the young one that still frolics and plays in the snow as if this is all a game. I don’t know what to do. They continue to advance and I see wicked claws tipping each finger, and their furby-like faces look more and more ominous as they approach.
And they killed Raahosh. These fucking dicks.
My last arrow trembles in my hand and then I get an idea. I fling my bow aside and grab the metlak youngling as it frolics close, and I jam the arrow under its jaw and pin it against my body. A hostage is the only chance I have — but I don’t know if the creatures are smart enough to realize what a hostage situation is. They look vaguely human-like, but I could be all wrong. They could just stare at me and then come and rip my throat out anyhow.
But they cry out and stop when I grab the young one. It wriggles and squirms in my arms, and its claws sink into my arms, but I hold the arrow against its jaw, grimly determined. I take a step to the side, and they watch me, their eyes wild. They make weird crooning noises in their throats, and the one in my grip responds.