Varmints

A warm breeze from across the desert swept over the RED base and three men in the yard on the eastern side of the building.

Engineer strode across the dusty ground toward his two team mates, flipping something tiny in his gloved hands. He hailed them.

"Hey, partners. Mind if I ask ya'll fellas a favour?"

Sniper and Soldier looked up from their game of checkers to nod at the Texan, who never asked anything that didn't have purpose.

"Ask away, mate. We will determine whether or not this favour is worthy of altering our so carefully planned schedule," replied Sniper, tilting back the small box he was using as a chair. He grinned to make it clear he was joking, recalling several instances in which cultural or language barriers among the RED team had caused scuffles over minor things.

Engineer smiled shortly at the humour, but his face fell serious and he placed an attractive grey and black feather on the board.

"Ah, some varmint has been bothering the hens at night. First it was just scratching up the ground and the shed door, but it's been trying the mesh and some of the girls are so shook up, they aint layin' any more and are loosing feathers, poor things."

Soldier picked up the feather and twisted it.

"Coyote maybe? We had the cunning bastards back home, they'll keep coming back, too."

"Fox! Dingo! BEAR. It's a bear. It's a bear, you two. And who better to catch it than an experienced marksman like myself?" Sniper offered his own suggestions in jest.

"That's why I'm asking you, Sniper. Think you could have a look at the scratches and identify the critter, maybe even find out where it's set up camp?"

The Australian rose to his feet and stretched his arms above his head, his fingers interlocked.

"Y'know, I've barely seen a beastie out here, it's a bit sad. Uh, not purely from a big game hunting point of view."

Soldier looked up.

"You like animals?"

"Sure, I spend all my time with you, don't I?"

"Every other sentence with this guy." Soldier pretended to sigh in despair while aiming a soft punch in his friend's general direction, which fell short. He stood up and indicated for Engineer to lead the way and they were led to where the hens were kept near an old grain silo.

"Yeaaah, I'm sticking with bear." Sniper pointed at some small paw marks in the dust with his boot.

"Eight or nine foot tall, wouldn't you say?" Soldier joined in, looking at Engineer, who didn't look like he was feeling like joking.

"At least ten, mate. Naw, Engie, it's some canine- I'd say coyote, 'cause I've no clue where a dog would have come from way out here. I'll leave some food out tonight and find out, yeah?"

Engineer nodded.

"Thanks, partner. These hens are good girls and I don't wanna see 'em hurt. There's some tinned meatballs nobody seemed interested in, so you can use them." With that he walked off.

Sniper rolled his shoulders.

"Guess I have something to do tonight."

OOOOOOO

Sniper peered at his watch, but couldn't make out the display in the faint light of the moon. It was some time after midnight, though, and there had been no sign of the animal. He shifted slightly from where he sat behind a cluster of wooden crates and glanced at Soldier, who had fallen asleep leaning against a crate with his arms folded. He'd come to keep Sniper company, and the Australian was grateful even if the American's snores could scare away the critter.

Something moved out near the silo. Sniper couldn't make it out with just his eyes, but sliding his rifle over and peering through the scope let him focus on a familiar shape. It was definitely a dog. The light made it hard to make out its colours, but it had a lot of white. It wasn't too small, either. How could an animal that was bright white and this size be living nearby and never be seen?

The dog made a beeline straight to the meatballs and began wolfing them down.

"Well, I'm not shootin' you, mate," he said, lowering the rifle. "Tincan, wake up. It's just a dog; I'm going to see if he has a collar." He thrust the gun into the barely awake Kansan's hands and trotted over to the animal, whistling to it.

Soldier blinked and stood, watching him approach the clearly nervy mongrel and crouch near it. The animal's ears were flat on its head and it lowered its head, but didn't move. Soldier started walking over as his friend reached a hand for the long fur covering its neck, which could have been hiding a collar.

The dog did not like this and moved like lightning. Sniper's right hand was clamped in its teeth while both men yelled.

Sniper tried to pull away, but the dog was doing the same, growling in fear, but not letting go until a boot hit it square in the side. The yelping animal had ran away into the night before Soldier even reached the Australian, who sat cringing at his heavily bleeding hand.

Bad form, Sniper. Don't worry, though, the dog's fine.
The next chapter's coming up, TF2 fans. I do appreciate reviews and writing critique!