"Gin? Jack ain't with you?"

Something about John's voice set my fur to standing on end, and I dropped the first rabbit I'd caught in over a year into the dust. It must have been particularly stupid, or nearly as old as me, for me to be able to catch it. "No?"

I sneezed dismissively, looking up at John. His eyebrows were furrowed, scars tugged down into a scowl, face dark despite the sun baking my fur 'til it was hot to the touch. "He's been gone as long as you were, I haven't seen him all day."

And, well, I could see why he'd think that. When was the last time I'd returned with a rabbit? It'd make sense that I was bringing home something that Jack had shot with his varmint rifle. But the rabbit had a whole in its neck that was too big to come from anything but a shotgun, or my mouth, and John had trained ruining his kills out of Jack a long time ago.

But he'd also trained Jack to take someone with him when he left the steading. It used to be me, before my joints got all rickety, and then he and Abigail decided he was old enough that he was allowed to go out on his own so long as he took Rufus, and let them know where he was going.

So the fact that John didn't know where he'd gone, well, that was concerning. And so I racked my memory, trying to see if there was some point of the game I should know, that this should bring to mind, but it had been almost four years since I'd been brought here, and even longer since I'd played the game, and so it evaded me, clinging to the tip of my tongue.

But whatever it was set anxiety to boiling in my stomach, unease clenching my heart in my chest. So I licked my lips, whining and looking around. "John, I wish I could talk to you." and how many times had I said that?

Uncle was preceded by the scent of body odor, for once the scent of alcohol faded and barely there. The smell was almost covered up with acrid fear.

"John! John!"

Watching John startle was, admittedly, pretty funny, and I would have laughed if the fear-scent on Uncle wasn't so alarming. Usually he couldn't be bothered to be afraid.

"It's Jack! The kid… the kid…"

And it wasn't funny anymore.

"What about Jack!?"

"Well, I just saw him out in the valley."

"Oh fuck this is the bear ain't it."

"Oh shit I just said ain't I'm spending too much time with John."

"Not this goddamned bear."

John was quickly starting to smell of alarm, of fear, and if I could smell myself, I knew, I would have smelled the same.

"Jack why."

"Seems your tales of hunting got the better of him."

"John why." I couldn't talk, but hopefully, he got the message, as I bore holes in him with my eyes.

"He said he was going up to the pass, track down that grizzly that's been seen up there."

"Jack why." I paused, furrowed my eyebrows—well, eyebrow muscles. Why hadn't Uncle stopped him? "Uncle why."

John's scent soured with alarm, with terror that stung my nose, set my teeth on edge. "Kid can't hunt a grizzly, thing'll eat him alive!" he shifted, dropping his hand to the gun on his hip as though he could do anything at that very moment, and I found myself doing the same, shifting on paws that ached from my brief sprint after the rabbit.

He moved to leave, and I did the same, flashing my teeth at Uncle. I tried to give him some leeway, knowing what I knew about him, but right now… well, I wouldn't be sorry if the bear used him as a chew toy. "I know, I tried to stop him!"

'I doubt that!'

"But you're worthless as a lawyer at a lynchin'!" Despite myself, I laughed, a puff of air out of my nose as I trotted stiffly at John's heel. I was going with him, come hell or high water, arthritis or hip dysplasia! "DAMN YOU, old man!" and I couldn't help but to startle, flinching away at the sudden raising of his voice—he'd settled down a lot in the time I'd known him, and I couldn't recall the last time he'd yelled—"This is my son." He whirled around on his heel, and I whined as I tried to do the same, stiff joints screaming at the abrupt movements. John was squaring up, and I feared that he'd physically attack Uncle as he began to snarl "If anything happens to him,"

"John, we need to go, you can fight Uncle later,"

"You'll wish it was you that bear attacked!" Thankfully, he settled for shoving Uncle instead of decking him, storming away. I wheezed as I hurried after him, not bothering to check on Uncle, growling under my breath once I'd caught it, licking my lips anxiously. We needed to hurry, try and catch up to Jack before he reached the bear. Though, from what I remembered of the game, it would be a race against time, and we needed to haul.

Bramble was tacked up nearby, grazing on the dry tufts of grass that grew near the barn. He wasn't a horse John would normally use for hunting, bomb-proof Domino or elderly Challenger for that, but he didn't have the time to tack one of them up, and so John swung onto the bay's back, the gelding grunting in surprise but obeying easily, leaping into a gallop as John's spurs dug into his sides. With a spryness I hadn't felt in a long time, I bolted into motion, darting after them like I used to so often once-upon-a-time.

It spoke to John's distraction that he didn't think to call for Rufus, that he forgot that I wasn't as young as I used to be, that he just kept riding, only yelling at me to "Find Jack, girl!"

And by god, was I going to.