The Fur Trader by Sam Ferguson Page A

knew that the split-tails were back from their hunting romp.
    “Catch anything for me?” Garrin called out over his shoulder.
    The two animals bounded over to him and nearly knocked him over onto the ground. He reached out and pet each of them and then pulled them in close to his sides, seizing their heads in the crook of his elbow just for the fun of watching them wriggle free. After a while, the two animals moved over to Garrin’s tent and curled up in front of the entrance.
    Garrin finally decided it was time to sleep and went to the tent as well, ready for some rest and wondering what the next day would bring. He buttoned down the flap on his tent to protect against the wind and then slipped into his thick bedroll dressed in all of his clothes. The quiet of the forest helped put his mind to rest and he soon drifted off to sleep.
    In the wee hours of the morning, just before dawn, a terrible scream woke Garrin from his slumber.
    The trapper was unbelievably quick in exiting his tent. He called out to William and Richard. William was yelling and shouting angrily. Richard was the one screaming, his voice high and shrill with terror in the night. Garrin couldn’t see what was happening. The moon had already dropped behind the mountains and the stars did not fully illuminate the area. The fire had died and there was only the starlight to cut the darkness. A large form was pulling at the side of William and Richard’s tent.
    Garrin knew instantly that it was a bear.
    He ran for the animal, drawing a knife in his left hand and a hatchet in his right. Another large form moved in and lunged at the bear. Garrin guessed it was likely Kiska, as she was usually the first to jump into a fight. A fraction of a second later another form came in and started biting and clawing at the bear’s back legs.
    The bear snorted and backed away, taking a swipe at the split-tails, but Kiska and Rux were far too agile for the lumbering bear. They disengaged long enough to dodge the attack and then swiftly cut back in. The front tent flap flew open and out came William. He also engaged the bear, despite Garrin’s shouts for him to step away.
    The bear roared and stood on its hind legs. The bear lifted a massive paw and then swiped down at William. The man was flung to the side and bounced upon the snow. The bear would have likely finished William off if not for Kiska and Rux jumping between him and the bear. Garrin continued sprinting in and threw his hatchet at the dark shape. The bear’s head twitched to the side, telling Garrin that his aim had struck true. It wasn’t a killing blow, he knew, but it disoriented the bear long enough for Kiska and Rux to get in and finish the beast off without risking injury to themselves. Kiska lunged low, pulling the bear’s right hind leg, while Rux leapt up with her massive, cougar-like paws and attacked the bear’s throat.
    The bear grunted and then fell to the ground, dead.
    Garrin was there two seconds later, but Rux and Kiska were already moving away from the kill. It was over. The trapper looked to William, who was groaning and moving on the ground, and then he turned to the tent and called out for Richard.
    “Are you hurt, boy?” Garrin asked.
    Richard was whimpering inside the shambles of a tent that remained after the attack. Garrin fumbled with the cloth and felt around for the opening. When he found it, he slipped in and called out for Richard again.
    “I’m alright,” Richard said through shaking sobs. “It only bit my coat.”
    Garrin moved in close and reached out a hand.
    “Are you sure?” he asked. “He didn’t get your shoulder or your head or neck?”
    Richard grabbed Garrin’s hand and placed it upon the outside of the thick coat. Garrin pulled his right hand free of his thick mitten and felt the tooth marks and wormed his index finger through the hole just enough to see that the boy was unharmed.
    “He bit my coat and started to drag me. I must have been sleeping close to