People of the Sea(167)
on his back. He nocked it in his atlatl and braced himself to cast.
Dire wolf! What a huge animal! For its size, the wolf moved with unnatural silence and grace, as though it ghosted over the path rather than ran upon it. Shaggy black fur rippled with its pace. A ridge of hair stood straight up on its spine, as high as the middle of Sunchaser’s chest. When the animal was close enough, he would dart it in the heart and run.
Dire wolves are so hard to kill!
He’d heard of wolves that had been darted twelve times and before they’d succumbed to their wounds, had still managed to tear out the throats of their hunters.
The wind shifted and brought Sunchaser a strange, cloying odor, oddly human, tainted with smoke and the aroma of roasting meat.
The dire wolf crested the hill. Those brown eyes bored into Sunchaser like red-hot pokers, and he perceived something . familiar … in that hate-filled gaze. The wolf let out a triumphant howl aid charged.
Sunchaser braced his feet, his left arm forward, and launched his dart with all of his strength. The dire wolf leaped aside like a Spirit Dancer, whirling, then staggering and yipping.
The dart had lodged in the front shoulder, where it flopped with each tortured leap the animal made.
Sunchaser stumbled—his senses blurred by panic—and ran for the trees.
The thumping feet of the wolf sounded terrifyingly close behind him. Its smoky, human reek clogged Sunchaser’s nose. He pounded into the forest and ran for the closest pine, slipped his atlatl through his belt, then jumped to grab the lowest limb and swung himself up so he could hook his knees ver another branch. But before he could climb higher, the glint of fangs flashed in the corner of his vision and the muscles in his chest and right upper arm screamed in pain as claws ripped through his flesh. The force of the
impact jerked him from the tree and slammed him to the ground.
He hit the pine duff hard, rolling up on his knees. The wolf stood no more than ten paces away, glaring hate.
Why doesn’t it charge? Sunchaser panted for breath, collecting himself.
A glimmer of something akin to fear lit the animal’s dark eyes.
Sunchaser slowly slid his hand toward the darts on his back. Running would be futile. Before he could even get to his feet, the beast would leap and knock him flat again. Blood spread warmly across his torn shirt and ran in rivulets down his arm. The wolf’s fangs had merely glanced across his chest but had cut deep through his arm, almost to the bone, slicing an artery. He couldn’t possibly cast another dart, at least not with his right hand. And he couldn’t do it accurately with his left, nor with the strength he would need in order to penetrate the animal’s vital organs. He would have to wield his dart like a spear—and with his left hand.
Trembling, Sunchaser lifted the dart before him, pausing only long enough to breathe Spirit into the beautifully flaked stone point. The rippled surface of the blood-red chert gave off a faint sheen, deadly, ready for this final conflict. Bound with sinew to a choke cherry fore shaft the long, fluted point had been crafted by his now dead friend, Little Elk. The edge was sharp enough to shave hair.
The wolf growled, a low sound from deep in its throat, then stalked forward, as silent as mist. Saliva dripped from its muzzle, coating its chest with a silver froth. It had broken the dart shaft during the chase, but a short length of the smoothed willow still protruded from its front shoulder. Sticky blood clotted around it. The wound would not kill, not even in time, unless Evil Spirits entered and festered in the raw flesh—but it would slow the wolf for weeks.
As the wolf came closer, it probed the forest floor with its nose, licking hungrily at the spots of Sunchaser’s blood on
the duff, the way a Dreamer would drink from the nectar of sacred plants to gain their Power.
Sunchaser set the long dart in the atlatl’s hook and crouched, mouth dry, ready to thrust. The animal sensed his fear, sensed that final desperation. It jerked up its head and sprang forward with a sharp bark.
But as if it understood the threat, the huge wolf twisted sideways, sidestepping the dart point at the last instant.
Sunchaser made it halfway to his feet before that massive body struck him and knocked him backward, sending him sliding through the pine duff. The dart shaft snapped hollowly, leaving only the fore shaft and its keen point to use like a knife.
Wolf’s jaws closed around his left leg, and Sunchaser twisted away, lashing out with his blade, cutting a gash in Wolf’s black side. A frenzy of madness possessed Wolf. With jaws locked on Sunchaser’s arm, the animal shook him the way Coyote shakes Rabbit to kill it—and the dart point was flung into the darkness.
Wolf lunged for Sunchaser’s throat, and Sunchaser kicked out and twisted wildly while Wolf’s canines ripped at his blocking arms. Sunchaser screamed in rage and pain, He squirmed backward, trying to reach the dart point.