11
Ianto hisses to Hicks, urgent "Don't. Don't. Get back up. Get up."
Hicks staggers up, weaves, shoulder throbbing. The Alpha lowers its huge head- as if taking aim on him.
Hicks hisses with a terrified rasp "What the fuck is that thing doing!? Why is it moving like that!?"
Ianto, reaching for one of the spears. "Don't move back. Stay right where you are- stare right back at him."
The Alpha, head hung low, grows statue-still, exhaling in big plumes- nostrils flared- feral eyes fixed on Hicks.
Hicks, tensed, tight- Hicks draws his knife, slow. Burke sees this, follows suit.
The Alpha is literally locked on Hicks...Time suspends.
Seconds stretch, strain...becomes unbearable.
Ianto growls low, harsh "Don't. Fucking. Move."
The Alpha finally lifts his massive head and turns, trotting into the misty tree line- several gray shapes follow/fall into formation...everybody breathes big sighs.
"What the fuck" Hick says with confusion "What did it want?"
"You."
Hicks turns. Ianto throws the knife back over to him. "You pull any shit with me again Hicks and I'm gonna kill you."
Hicks, plucking the knife up out of the snow, looks back.
Ianto stares "I want an understanding."
Hicks returns the knife to its sheath, nods short, pissed at himself, disappointed. He sits. Everyone resumes their spot around the fire.
Rhonda spits in Hicks' direction with her own warning as she sees the anger in Ianto's stance. He is a bad man. Uncle only snarls at the Bad Mans.
Hicks looks up at Ianto, real remorse. "I apologize...I'm sorry. That wasn't cool. I was angry."
"No more beefs. Let's squash all the bullshit. We got big, Moby-Dick sized fish to fry, so fuck whatever's between us now. It can wait." Ianto demands, "Conserve it. Yeah?"
He still tastes blood, but lets it lie. He nods to Ianto.
"Alright, if anybody wants to rest, now is probably the time t—" Ianto is cut off as Hicks suddenly lunges toward the fire, as if propelled, as if levitating- the air is pushed/shoved out of him hard-the shock on his face says something horrible is happening-he hits, sprawling, face first, going into the rim of the fire, arms raking embers, scalding- at the same moment, Ianto and the rest of the men realize that there's a Draygorn on his back...He's been hit blind from behind.
The men scramble up, the Draygorn skids off, its hind legs grazing the fire, paddling ash- a yelp escapes- its fur catches, burns, smokes, but it stays on Hicks, it's snout rooting between his shoulders, ripping fabric, big head thrashing- Hicks screams.
Rhonda screams as well, leaps across and latches onto the Draygorn's back- it rears up howling, enraged, hurt.
The Draygorn is off Hicks, snapping like wild, trying to tear the pup off- Ianto rushes in, sinks the shaft of his spear into the Draygorn- he yanks it free as Bron plunges his knife into its shoulder next the Rhonda's teeth. The Draygorn snaps back, whiplash fast, tearing into Bron's fist. Bron falls away, seizing his hand, the thumb nearly torn away completely.
Ianto grabs a partially burning log from the fire with gloved hands and clouts the confused Draygorn, crushing it across the back of its head, it splays out supine, yipping madly as Rhonda slips around the neck to find the throat.
Hicks, anger/aggression redirected now unsheathes his knife, launches himself on top of the prone animal, sticking it with the speed of a sewing bobbin- the blade slipping through the animal's hide like hot butter.
The Draygorn goes soft, limp, slumps- Hicks keeps driving the knife into it, over and over, frothing fury.
Ianto finally hauls him off. Hicks sniffs the Draygorn's blood slathered over his hands- something in him needs to taste it, he does, smiles to himself, relishing it- the lunatic momentarily released.
The Draygorn bleeds out, short spasms ripple through, snout to tail- lapse, resume...then it goes still.
The men look down at it...stunned, still struggling with that initial shock as another realization slowly takes shape...they just killed this thing...Together.
Some primal pulse passes between them and at once they erupt in rough a cheer- kicking the animal's carcass, taunting its dead form, congratulating one another with back-slaps, fist bumps... a unity earned.
Even the pup feels hands slapping gently on her hide and gentle words as she is told that she is mighty and awesome, all things she likes to hear.
Rhonda finally releases her prey and stomps off to one side, taking a mouthful of snow to remove the taste of the blood.
She never felt that level of power before and now she knows what she is. Her mission. This is not a game.
Uncle needs her.