Blake

Through his single eye, Blake watched the legs of the thin, frail elk in the copse of trees ahead. They were shaking, and would collapse easily if tripped. He wheezed quietly, but in the silence of the winter forest, it rang as loud as a brass bell; the elk's head shot up, and its ears twitched. Fortunately, however, it was so starving that it was reluctant to leave the patch of dormant tallgrass that had been sheltered from much of the winter snows by low-hanging evergreen branches. Its hide shuddered visibly as its instincts to flee warred with its gnawing hunger. That was all Blake needed.

Taking in a deep breath, he planted his feet and shot out his tongue. Wrapping it around the elk's leg, he began to withdraw it, throwing back his head to add extra tension on the appendage. The animal was too weak to pull away, and its leg was pulled out from under it. It fell, toppling onto its side, and then it was over.

As soon as the animal was down, a loud shriek echoed through the trees and a red blur streaked past the Smoker. He let go of the elk's leg as Lexi slammed into the downed animal, and began tearing into its flesh with her claws. He watched as she clawed it, snarling viciously and hungrily, and his stomach rumbled insistently. Two more blurs, one red and one blue, slammed into the dying animal, and fur and blood were sent flying.

In a few more moments, it was dead, and its heart was devoured by the three Hunters. That was all they ate, however; despite their own hunger, they knew that the Matriarch had first rights to the kill, but she was back with their Witch-sister. So once the heart was gone, the three of them crouched or sat on top of the carcass to guard it from scavengers—after all, the fresh blood-scent would likely attract carrion-eaters and other starving predators for as far as the wind would carry it. That left Blake to retrieve his mate.

As Blake turned to make his way back to where he'd left their Matriarch, he paused, lifting his tongue to the chill wind. He thought he could taste something there—another zombie, not of the Pack. A low growl escaped his throat, eliciting a cough; he recognized the taste of his own strain. Another Smoker was around—and for the time being, this was his territory. This other one was intruding. Instinct demanded that he defend what was his.

So he started off in the direction in which he tasted the rival Smoker, wheezing and hacking as he moved. He noticed that it was the same direction in which he and the Hunters had come, back toward his mate and Caroline. Concern began to rise in his ruined mind—concern that the rival was after something other than territory. He picked up his pace, though it was still slow going in the snow that was almost to his knees.

When Blake neared the temporary camp his mate had built while she awaited his return, he heard a scream. For a split second, he felt the chill knife of fear stab through him—fear that Garnet had been snared. But then he realized that the scream wasn't human—at least, it was just short of human. Instead, it was the banshee wail of a Witch, with an undertone of rage. It was, in fact, the same sort of killing-cry a Witch would make when startled. Though his pace didn't slow, he felt a wave of relief—Caroline had come to Garnet's defense.

He arrived at a grisly scene. Caroline was covered in the olive-tinted blood of a Smoker, her claws dripping with it. She was wailing, holding her hands to her head, and Garnet was already trying to calm her. The human woman had her arms around the Witch, one hand petting the Infected girl's hair. The length of a Smoker's tongue was still draped around her shoulders and waist, ignored for the time being. Opposite the both of them, close to Blake's feet, lay the corpse of that tongue's owner, five long gashes exposing its innards.

What confused Blake the most was the thick green cloud that hovered between two trees behind the pair. It tasted of the Smoker at his feet—but the cloud was over there, and the dead zombie was here. How was it able to still give off smoke? He knew that Witches were often strong enough to kill their prey in one deadly blow, and as a result, fling their corpses several feet—that was what had happened here, he was sure. But then where did that smoke come from?

He was unable to make the connection, but he was sure Garnet would. Wheezing a soft inquiry, he extended his tongue to settle around both his mate and Caroline. Though she didn't jump, Garnet had been so absorbed with calming the Witch again—and keeping her from running off after this kill—that she hadn't heard or seen Blake arrive. That spoke volumes to him of how shaken up she was, and he came forward to wrap an arm around her. He used his tongue to remove the dead Smoker's, sneering reflexively at the taste.

She spoke, but as usual he couldn't wholly understand her words. He understood what she meant to convey, however; that she was all right, unhurt, and that he needn't worry. Snorting, he held her tight for a moment anyway, reassuring himself that she was fine. She laughed when he released her, a sound he found quite pleasant, and set about breaking up camp. Mostly, she needed only to kick snow over the tiny campfire she'd built, and strap herself into the harness of the sled while Caroline clambered on top of it. When she was ready, she gestured back the way Blake had come, indicating for him to take the lead.

He did just that; although he started off slow to let Garnet catch up to hike beside him. Blake looked down at her, moving his tongue to flick teasingly at her cheek. She laughed softly again, lifting a gloved hand to wave it away. She seemed much happier now that the hunting was better. Before now, ever since, three days ago, Chris had found the human footprints in the snow, she had been sad, and seeing her sad made him angry.

When he was angry, he wanted to hang something off the highest cliff, feeling it struggle for life in his tongue's noose. It was an exhilarating feeling, but for some reason, another, sourer emotion came over him, one that he couldn't name. That emotion came every time he killed a human or zombie, and he hated it. He tried to avoid killing anything like him or like Garnet, but when he was angry, that other emotion was overcome…at least for a little while.

But at any rate, his mate was happy again, and therefore, so was he.

They had found themselves on the next mountain over from Chris's discovery. That had been far enough away from the humans' lair—wherever that was—that the hunting was better. Of course, that meant the competition had returned, too; but so far, there had been nothing to worry them. The Smoker that Caroline had killed (must have killed) had been the biggest threat, and then only to Garnet.

Blake heard scuffling and snarls from the clearing in which the Hunters were awaiting them. That meant that starving scavengers had found the elk, too, and wanted a share of it. As he came through the trees, he could see that their opponent was a half-starved mountain lion, driven by hunger to steal a bite or two from the Infected, against its better judgment. Already, the cat had a dozen scratches in its hide from the twins' claws, and Jeremy was on its back; Blake couldn't see precisely what he was doing, but his head was down, likely gnawing on the animal to get to its spine.

That guess was confirmed when the cat suddenly froze and collapsed into the snow a moment later. Jeremy, his mouth stained with blood, leapt off of it and back onto the elk, where he crouched protectively. The twins circled the mountain lion until it died, and then Lexi joined her mate atop their kill while Chris trudged to Garnet's side.

"Good boy, Chris," Garnet said, reaching over to scratch his head through his hood. The phrase was one of few that Blake really understood.

Shooing Lexi and Jeremy from atop the elk, Garnet unhooked herself from the sled and retrieved the long knife she used to skin and cut their meals. She removed her gloves, tucking them under her thick coat, and got to work. Blake watched his mate as she peeled the hide from the elk, hacked off its head and hooves, and cut most of the meat into portions. He occasionally snuck out his tongue to snag a piece of meat that she missed, bringing it to his mouth and letting it slide down his gullet whole. When she chose to scold him, he merely grinned at her, unrepentant.

By the time Garnet had finished, there was little left but bones. Only a small bit of meat remained on the elk, the rest either stored in the hard box Garnet kept, or disappeared into the Pack's stomachs. What was left would still feed the scavengers for at least a day, perhaps two if they were all small, and that was in addition to the mountain lion stiffening nearby. Blake was reluctant to let so much food go to waste, but his mate didn't seem inclined to take it, so he let it be.

Once they were all fed (Garnet included, as she took her meal once she was finished with the elk), they moved on. Just in time, too; Blake could taste the scents of a dozen different animals approaching the site. He was confident that the Home Sector Pack could take on anything, of course, but there was nothing there worth fighting over. Especially since it was getting dark; behind the clouds, the sun was dipping below the mountains, and night was coming on fast.

Night had long since fallen, and the wind had picked up significantly, before Chris finally managed to scout out a cave for the Pack. It was empty, and actually large enough for the sled to fit. The Pack filed in gratefully, each of them shaking snow from their limbs. Garnet hurriedly freed herself, stretching her arms and rolling her shoulders. She looked pained; it was that look that made Blake want to pull the heavy supplies instead. But she always insisted on strapping herself in whenever he started to struggle with the harness. It was irritating.

As his mate set about with the evening chores, Blake moved away from the rest of the Pack, and lifted his tongue to taste the air. A hint of fresh air indicated that there were gaps in the roof; that was good, because then Garnet could make fire. There was also the scent of guano—the cave was deep enough that bats lived in it, although they were all out hunting now. It was not, however, so deep that it was a part of a maze; he couldn't detect the dank air that usually came with such a cave. He was mostly thankful for that; the last time they'd encountered a system, Caroline had started wandering through them, and it had taken most of the day for the Hunters to track her down and lead her back.

Caroline was in love with the caves, though. She would meander as far back as she could once Garnet released her for the evening, sniffling and tracing her claws along the stone wall. Then she would settle in the darkest place, pressing against the chill surface, and merely sit and watch the rest of the Pack, with only an occasional whimper and her fearsome red eyes to give away her position. It was as close to happiness as the Witch ever got, and no one begrudged her that—not even the Hunters, who would often prod at her to join them in their roughhousing while outside.

Blake returned to Garnet's side just as Caroline was starting to wander the cave. This was a good home, he thought; it was large and fairly deep compared to others they'd found. That meant shelter from the winter storms, the only times he really felt the cold. With the fire burning, Garnet had actually pulled off the top layer or two of her winter gear. He was very happy to see that; that meant they'd be that much closer when the Pack settled for the night.

After all, Blake liked to be as close to his mate as possible.

When all the Pack had been taken care of, when everything was washed, dried, and put away, Blake moved to settle near where Caroline was resting against a stalagmite. But Garnet called his name, and when he looked back, he saw she had pulled out the old bedding used in their more permanent settlements. He grinned wide; she'd had the same thought he did, then! He waited while she set it up in a corner, helping her when she gestured to something and said his name. When it was ready, she pulled off most of the rest of her winter gear, until she had only the one layer.

Almost immediately, she started shivering, but Blake was ready. He settled at the head of the "bed," making himself comfortable. Then he pulled his mate into his arms, letting her pull the covers around herself while he held her. She laid her head in the crook of his left arm, her face pressed into his coat. Once they knew he and his mate were settled, the Hunters moved in as well. Chris curled up on the bed on one side of Garnet, and Lexi and Jeremy twined together on the other. After several moments of laying like that, Caroline finally came to join them, cuddling up to Blake's side.

Then, one by one, each of the Pack drifted off to sleep, contented in one another's presence.


Author's Notes: Another boring chapter, with very little action-although from a new perspective. But rest assured, the real story will begin next chapter, from yet another perspective-and one I think you folks might enjoy!

I realize I'm taking a page out of George R. R. Martin's book, so to speak, in putting each individual chapter in different characters' PoVs. Call it an experiment, if you will, but I like that style. Although, I'm writing it differently than Mr. Martin in that I'm moving in chronological order, instead of jumping around as he does. I hope I'm forgiven!

As a quick reminder, pictures of the Home Sector Pack are featured in my profile. There's some amazing talent in there, so even if you're not interested in me, you can at least check out the other artists. :)

Finally, if you're also waiting for other fics, such as Hunter Red, don't fret-with the start of the new semester comes a lot of free time. (I know, how much sense does that make?) So keep an eye out!