Flesh and Blood

Mwahahahahaha, cliffhangers...

9
He hardly had time to pull out both long, tapered blades. The bear was upon him in seconds and he aimed for the eyes and nose, knowing these areas were sensitive, and one blade edge managed to slice a deep brown eyeball open. Snuffling and growling in rage and discomfort, the sow loosened its hold on the man for a slip second, and he wriggled away. Scrambling to his feet, he screamed furiously at the sow, which staggered for a moment, but charged again, giving a brutal swipe of her paw. The skinny man dodged the attack, but just barely, getting a parallel row of red, seeping marks on his arm. Glancing at the wounds, he snarled angrily at the beast. This time she stood erect on her hind legs. She roared at him. Three Finger roared back and they threw themselves at each other.
The scrawny man fell onto his backside and thrust his savage knives upward. The bear gave an earth shaking moan as she was disemboweled and she fell forward, her breath shuddering in her struggling lungs. Prancing about the fallen beast like a deer, Three Finger put his long knives down and carefully approached his dying adversary. An injured bear was still a bear after all. He stared at the heaving, furry chest, took in the flickering breaths and the growing puddle of blood which stained the grass and dirt. She seemed to be looking at him as he removed the axe from his belt and stepped toward her. Two fierce chops later, the sow was no more.
A tiny grunt sounded behind him and he wheeled around, startled. The cub was still sitting where Three Finger had found him. It hobbled around on four fuzzy legs over to its mother, probably scared and confused. The hunter just stared for a moment, disturbed by the familiarity of the moment, and by sudden impulse, brought the axe down again. This time, the strike was followed by an awkward little squeak.
Hauling the sow away from the cabin proved to be a challenge, but he managed to roll her huge body down the hill and off a cliff. He did the same with the cub, but he did not carry its tiny body, as touching it now made him feel uncomfortable, and instead lifted it in a bag and dumped it over the edge. Watching the bodies hit the bottom fifty feet down, he felt an iciness in his chest. Three Finger thought he saw a pup looking like One Eye when he was born hit the rocks, and he backed away from the cliff.
That night he was awoken once more by a nightmare. This particular vision had him readying to kill the bear, but when the axe struck her, he gasped and doubled over, feeling the agony of the axe wound in his stomach, looking down only to see a gaping wound in his middle, with guts and viscous crimson pouring out. The same contents poured from his quim and he felt as though he was fifteen again, writhing with the pains and confusion he had felt so many winters ago.
Three Finger awoke with his hands to his belly, making sure he was all in one place and that the pup was alright. Indeed, nothing was out of place, to his knowledge, and no injuries could be found, except for the wounds he sustained from the bear.
Thinking of the sow made the man fully waken as he reclined on the stained mattress. He pulled the covers closer to his body and thought about his adversary. She was only trying to protect her cub.
So was he.
The concept would have never troubled him before now, and touching the dead body of the cub never before would have given him such a cold feeling in his chest and stomach. If anything had happened like this in the past, Three Finger could simply ask for advice from Saw Tooth, or humor One Eye whenever he wanted to play.
Why did they have to die?
Now Three Finger was angry. Why, why, why, WHY did they leave him like this, all alone, with no clue as to how to bear young, and feeling so lost and vulnerable? Both men were bigger and stronger than he; he should have been the one to die before them. Now the lanky little wretch lying curled up in blankets while the wind outside howled furiously at him was all alone and suddenly feeling so frightened and small and insignificant. He was so angry with it all! No one and nothing could comfort him now. And they knew it! His pack mates knew that they were a family and nothing should separate them. They knew how one of them would feel if separated from the others and forced into isolation. How could they do this do him?? Why did they do it?!
Why did they have to die?
His grief and anger were interrupted suddenly, when he jolted forward, mouth and eyes wide open. What the hell was that?! He waited for the sign again, daring not to even breathe, his eyes still threatening to pop from his head. He thought… he thought he had felt something.
The feeling happened again. Three Finger’s heart quickened for a moment as he looked down at his stomach anxiously. Slowly, his look of wordless shock became a distorted, excited smile. Something was moving inside him, and he knew perfectly well what it was.
And it tickled!
Giggling, he realized he wanted more of the feeling, because he was so ticklish himself. He tickled his stomach back where he had felt the fluttering sensation. This time he was joyfully rewarded a tiny, but prominent nudge. Three Finger laughed in response, overjoyed that the pup was moving inside him. The little one was proving it was still alive within. How sobering the man felt in considering how real it was to be carrying the pup inside him. He laughed until tears came, and he had trouble stopping them. Despite his joy, his family was still gone, and he could not help but wonder how they could have reacted at this moment.
However, he rolled over and pulled the blankets close again, trying to fall back asleep. He could not sit around and immerse himself in false realities when he had himself and his pup to look after. As he entered sleep, his calm reassured by the movements in his belly, he was granted safe passage through his dreams.