July 15, 2001
Lovemaker and Shypaws take a hunting trip to the canyon tops.
Part 1
The day was just beginning to fade. Lovemaker yawned and stretched. Colorcast had mentioned wanting some of the white-coated ravvits that lived higher in the canyons to experiment with some dyes. Lovemaker, feeling lonely with Smokepath tracking for the Hunt in an effort to enter this winter better prepared than last, jumped at a chance to be helpful. None of the ravvits close to the holt had changed into their winter coats; it was only autumn at Rushwater. But higher and colder climes had snow already, and the inhabitants of these places were already losing their summer coats.
The first night had been riding swiftly, skirting the human camps and avoiding the simmering anger that hung over both of the human habitations. He wore his winter clothing, and had talked with Snowbird for cold-weather advice before coming. Tracking and trapping small animals was one of his joys, but he usually limited it to the summer months.
Shypaws stretched and whined a little as Lovemaker shimmied down the tree; the last of the large trees before the steep canyon coolness stunted the plants. She loved to hunt, and, when away from the rest of the pack, gained some boldness that she was too timid to display among other wolves. She held her tail high and grinned in wolfish happiness as Lovemaker checked his dagger and strung his bow. He hoped to trap the white-furred ravvits, as it left less damage to the furs, but there were plenty of other animals that may require an arrow or a blade, not all of them as timid or harmless as a ravvit.
Lovemaker grinned at his pretty grey wolf and ruffled her ears. She leaned into him, inviting him to get on, hoping to get hunting as soon as possible. Lovemaker laughed at her, and his laughter sounded strange in the emptiness. "It's been too long since I last did this," Lovemaker decided. It felt odd to be away from the holt.
Shypaws carried Lovemaker eagerly up the canyon slopes. With the dusting and drifts of snow, it was easy to spot the animal traffic areas, and Lovemaker stopped several times to set some of Woodsmoke's traps. He would collect any game on the way back down the mountain in the next several days. Shypaws didn't understand the purpose of the traps, and sent frustrated messages to Lovemaker hoping to get him to abandon the traps and just follow the scents. She stuck her nose in one, and tripped it, to the amusement of Lovemaker. In trying to get it off of her nose, Shypaws' white rear foot also became stuck, and she fell heavily onto her side, whining.
Lovemaker tenderly extracted her, and soothed her by tickling her ears and talking to her. "Silly Shypaws. Think you're a ravvit, timid one?" He set up the trap again with no distractions from Shypaws, who sulked a fair distance away. He didn't have great hopes for this trap anymore, as it now reeked of wolf scent, guaranteed to repel any prey, but he didn't have much of a way to let the scent wear out, and would rather set all his traps and hope.
The wolf and rider made good time towards a knoll about halfway up the ridge, which was where Lovemaker planned to set up a temporary camp.
Part 2
When the day began to fade, Lovemaker awoke with a start. He had planned to make an early beginning to his night, but had made his bed of moss too well, perhaps, and the comfortable silence, the fresh canyon air, and the bliss of the soft bed all combined to keep him asleep longer than he expected. Shypaws was equally content to doze, and flattened her ears a little disdainfully when Lovemaker shook her awake.
They had been camping for three days at this spot, taking short daily hunting trips into the surrounding terrain. Most of the game they found was small and went into Shypaws jaws, some of them too mangled by Shypaws' teeth to save the skins. Lovemaker was patient with her, though, and did his best to explain the use of the skins to his wolf. She complained back a wordless irritation about fur in her teeth and a little bit of sympathy that Lovemaker didn't have his own fur and had to rely on the furs of prey.
Tonight they were planning on heading back down the canyons, gathering whatever prey had stumbled into Lovemaker's traps, and heading back to the Holt. Lovemaker was looking forward to warm furs with a companion less furry than Shypaws, and less inclined to snore. He grinned to himself as he dismantled his camp, scattering the branches he had used to make a simple roof, brushing snow over his trails and packing his few tools and the furs he had gathered into his gather-pack.
Only child moon was up, but there was plenty of light, and the wolf and rider picked their way swiftly down the incline. It was easier than going up, though the snow had accumulated another handspan of depth in the last few days, and they reached the first trap with no complications before the sky began to lighten.
Shypaws was once-bitten, twice shy about anything resembling a trap now, and sat down several wolf-lengths away from the trap, refusing to carry Lovemaker any closer. A small weasel with a very soft, fine white coat had stumbled into the trap, and, held high in the air, had frozen to death in a stiff, strange pose. Being frozen made skinning very quick and easy, and Lovemaker tossed the stiff body to Shypaws, who leapt upon it and devoured it cheerfully.
They repeated this act at the next six traps, stopping to rest while the daystar shone between the second and third traps. Out of those six traps, five held ravvits, four of them the stark white that Colorcast had been hoping for. The fifth ravvit was still a muddy brown with white, probably from lower on the ridge.
As Lovemaker guided Shypaws towards the seventh trap, the daystar was just beginning to tint the sky. It would be behind the canyon ledge for some time, but would cast daylight over the land well before Lovemaker could see it. Shypaws was quieter than usual, and kept scenting the air, but couldn't convey her worries in a way that Lovemaker could understand. She padded slower and slower, and spent much of her time gazing from side to side. Finally she stopped, very close to the seventh trap, and Lovemaker, frustrated with not being able to understand her worries, dismounted and went to see if any prey filled this trap.
Part 3
From some distance Lovemaker could see that a white ravvit was caught in this trap as well, but some of Shypaws' worries had rubbed off on him and he approached with caution. What he wasn't expecting was that suddenly Shypaws bolted towards him, whining frantically, bowling him over within a foot of his trap. Lovemaker's foot brushed a snow bank and a braided rope sprang from beneath the snow, narrowly missing his leg and foot as a thin log balanced on a bent spruce pivoted into the air.
A loop of rope closed with impossible speed, knocking one mitten from Lovemaker's hand. In the second that it took the trap to close, Lovemaker thought at first that it had avoided him, that Shypaws' maneuver had caused the trap to trigger before either of them were within range, but as the jaws of the rope clenched, his loose hair was captured in the circle of rope, and he was wrenched to his toes as the trap rose in the air.
Eyes watering from the pain, Lovemaker hung, barely able to support his weight and ease his aching scalp on one foot, which could, fully extended, just touch the ground. He fumbled at his side for his brightmetal dagger. He tried to saw at the rope, but it was tough, and the awkward position he was maintaining was agony on his head. He finally took the blade to his hair, and sheared off the last two handspans of it, dropping to the ground in relief. The trap sprang high into the air when released of his weight.
Lovemaker looked up at the rope, his shorn golden locks fluttering in the breeze out of his reach. The daystar light was just beginning to reach tendrils of light over the canyon top, and one ray made the hair almost glow.
Lovemaker massaged his scalp gingerly, trying to convince his tortured nerve-endings that he was no longer held by the trap. Shypaws had her tail tucked firmly between her legs, her ears flat against her skull, and was whining almost inaudibly, visibly distressed and completely uncertain as to what to do. Lovemaker went to her, and soothed her, and told her, "You are the smartest, bravest, wisest wolf-friend ever, Shypaws. You certainly saved me from being far worse off." He ruffled her fur and sweet-talked her until her tail was level and her ears were up, and she licked his face in relief.
Lovemaker had no desire to sleep near the trap, and was so wound up after his close call that he didn't think he could sleep anyway, so he moved forward, with great caution and a long stick to probe the snow, to investigate the trap. Shypaws showed no inclination to join him, but sat bolt upright and watched him with a dedication that bordered on obsession.
The tawny-haired elf found what he was looking for within just a few moments of looking. A string of beads, black in color, woven with a leather strap and a clumsy-bird feather was tied at the pivot of the trap, a symbol of ownership. Land Lopers.
The snow in the area had been swept over carefully, but once Lovemaker knew what he was looking for, it was easy to see the direction of the sweep marks, and a quick survey of the area found tracks leading back towards the forest. They were old, and dusted with a few days of snow and wind, but still obviously human. Lovemaker gathered the ravvit who hung in his trap, bait for the trap intended for him, skinned it, and shared the meat with Shypaws.