Thornbear (Book 1) (13 page)

Shit!

He had brought a falchion with him, but it was tied to Pebble’s saddle. All he had on him was his belt knife, a four inch straight bladed item better suited for minor tasks. The cat was in the air before he could gather his wits to draw it.

He was still on the ground when the cat sprang, so it was impossible to drop beneath it and he was nowhere near fast enough to push himself up and over it. Instead he rolled back to his right, and he almost made it, but the panther lashed out with one paw, catching the side of his head as it passed. The curved claws caught in the skin of his cheek, and the beast twisted, using the attachment to arrest its motion and swing its body around to reach him.

The other foreleg was moving toward his head, and once it had him between the two he knew the rear legs would come up to rake his belly.

Gram’s conscious mind wasn’t operating, though. Like his body, it was nowhere near fast enough to process everything that was happening in time to make good choices. His answers came from the empty place, the place where he ceased to exist.

He caught the paw that was ripping through his face with his right hand, gripping it tightly as he continued to roll, drawing the cat with him. Its other foreleg hit the sand as it desperately sought to maintain its balance, but he was having none of that. The momentum of his roll pulled it off balance, and his left arm circled around the beast as it twisted beneath him in the sand.

It was strong. If he had been thinking, his mind would have told him that pound for pound cats are much stronger than humans, but that thought would have done little more than slow him down.

Tightening his arm, he pulled the panther into a headlock, his elbow close against its bottom jaw. The cat screamed as he clung to it, keeping its head in the clench. Driving forward with powerful legs, it forced him up, despite the fact that it had to lift both their bodies. Unable to control its movement, he fell, and the beast’s body twisted with incredible flexibility. Claws ripped into his trousers as it thrashed, but he held on.

It surged up again, trying to throw him off, but this time he used his own legs to aid its push, and they both left the ground for a moment, to fall a few feet closer to the water’s edge. As they flew, he brought his feet up and wrapped his legs around the cat’s muscular mid-body, just ahead of its rear limbs.

Now it could no longer twist its lower body to rake him with its hind legs, and the cat began to thrash violently within his arms, making it difficult to hold on. Gram managed to bring his right arm up, using it to lock his left forearm in place. Using all four of his limbs to grapple the panther, he was no longer able to control their movement. The cat’s mouth was snapping and yowling as it struggled, trying to move its head enough to get a bite on him.

The bite is the worst. Those jaws are strong enough to break bones or anything else that comes between them,
said his inner voice, choosing that moment to speak up.

He ignored it, and as the cat pushed away from the ground again he tried to aid its motion, twisting his torso to throw it off balance. The two of them rolled into the water.

Gram took a deep breath before his head went under the green water. The cat wasn’t happy about their abrupt bath, and it redoubled its efforts to shake him off, but he wasn’t letting up. He could feel the muscles rippling beneath the skin of the panther’s neck as he tightened his headlock. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t get the position or the leverage to crush its throat, but then, he no longer needed too.

It fought him as he kept it under, using his weight to keep them both from surfacing. It was kicking wildly, but the soft mud gave it little to push against. They sank deeper into the water and farther from the shore.

His head was pounding, and there were spots in his vision. How long he had held on he couldn’t be sure, but his lungs were screaming for air. He had gotten a good lungful of air before they went in, and he thought the cat had sucked in some water already, but he couldn’t be sure. It still struggled. Clenching his teeth, he refused to give up, until at last the great cat’s body relaxed, going limp in the water.

Letting go, he got his head above the surface just as he lost control, choking as he got a little water in with his first breath. He flailed for a moment, fighting to orient himself as he stood in the soft mud. He was only seven feet from the shore, and he was standing in water that came up to his chest. The cat floated beside him.

Coughing and hacking he reached out with one hand to push its head beneath the water.
Just to be sure.
He remained there for several moments, clearing his lungs and catching his breath before he began making his way to the shore. He drew the lifeless body of the drowned cat along with him, rolling it onto the sand bar before climbing out himself.

Gram was shaking from a combination of the wind on his wet skin and the aftereffects of adrenaline. Exhausted, he lay down on his back. He stared up at the sky, wondering at its crystalline blue color, interrupted only by impossibly white clouds. He breathed deeply.

I’m alive.

He heard steps coming through the grass, but he didn’t bother rising. Whoever it was wouldn’t be a threat. Still, he was surprised when he saw Chad Grayson’s face appear above the grass on the opposite side of the brook.

“It’s a bit too late in the season to be swimming,” remarked the hunter as he saw Gram’s wet and bedraggled form.

Gram chuckled and then, unable to help himself, he fell to laughing loudly. It felt good after such a close brush with death.

“I can see it’s no use tryin’ to give ye advice. Ye’re touched,” added Chad. His eyes had picked out the form of the big cat and now they were searching the ground around Gram. He noted the wounded ewe lying close by. “I been lookin’ fer that pussy.”

Gram laughed harder at that. It was a minute or more before he finally managed to calm himself. “You’re welcome to it. It’s certainly done me no good.”

“Hang on, I’ll be right there,” said the huntsman before he disappeared back into the tall grass. Gram could hear him moving south for a short distance until he found a narrower place to cross the stream. A few minutes later he had joined the young man, none the worse for his crossing, other than wet boots.

“Ye’re a right mess,” observed Chad.

Gram nodded. “Heh, I bet.”

The hunter leaned in, using his hand to tilt Gram’s face to one side. He hissed when he saw the claw marks there. “Oooh, that’s gonna leave a mark, boy. Someone’ll need to sew that up fer ye.”

“Got any thread?” asked Gram.

“Ye don’t want me doin’ it. Needs to be cleaned first anyway.”

“They always said panthers don’t attack people, that they look for easier prey,” Gram wondered, sitting up.

“Usually they don’t,” agreed the hunter. “But last year we didn’t get much rain, and then we followed it with a cold winter.”

“Huh?” Gram couldn’t seem to form a better sentence for his question just then.

“Food,” explained Chad. “The bigger predators, wolves and such, they’ve had it hard cuz of a lack of small game. This one had taken to raiding farms. It managed to kill the Adams’ milk cow two weeks back. He was huntin’ Mr. McDermott’s sheep today. You jus’ had the misfortune of tryin’ to steal his lunch.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

“Yeh, I was hopin’ te ketch him layin’ up after his next kill. Never thought it would be you.”

“Me either.”

“Yer damn lucky to be alive. Like ye say, they don’ often attack people, but when they do, it’s nothin’ to laugh about. What did ye kill him with?”

Gram held up two shaky hands. “I never got a chance to pull my knife.”

Chad let out a long whistle. “Damn, boy! My hat’s off to ye,” he said, though he didn’t actually doff his cap.

Gram stood. He was mostly recovered from the effects of his fight, and he felt uncommonly good, other than a faint pain burning the skin along the left side of his face. “Do you want the cat?” he asked.

“Nah, that’s yer kill, boy,” said the hunter.

Gram thought for a moment, “Well, I’d like to get this ewe back to her owner. Would you mind taking the panther back for me? You can keep whatever you want from it.” His ears picked up the sound of riders coming from the distance.

“I can probably do that fer ye,” said the hunter with a nod. Taking out his knife, he gutted the cat by the water’s edge. He did it with practiced ease and within minutes he had field dressed the animal and had wrapped it in a wide cloth before draping it across his shoulders.

Gram watched with admiration for his skill. “Listen, Master Grayson, about our fight…”

The hunter focused on him then, meeting his eyes, “Yeh?”

“I’d like to apologize. I shouldn’t have lost my temper…”

“…that’s fine, boy,” interrupted the huntsman. “No harm done, though I appreciate that ye’ve thought on it.” He began walking back along the edge of the stream, heading toward his previous crossing point. “One o’ these days you’ll have to come out with me. Mebbe I’ll teach ye a thing or two.” He disappeared from view after that.

Gram stared after him bemused.
He’s harder to figure out than Sir Cyhan.
The ewe took the opportunity to issue another loud series of bleats.

“I’m coming, girl,” said Gram reassuringly. Kneeling, he slipped his arms beneath her shoulder and hindquarters. She was heavy, but he thought he could manage her weight. The farmer’s cot was only a half-mile to the east of him. He felt sure he could carry her at least that far.

Putting her across Pebble’s back would be even easier, but he would have to tie her in place and he worried that he might injure her more by putting her in such a position. First he had to get her up the embankment and onto level ground, though.

His muscles grew taut as he slowly straightened his knees to lift her, keeping her body close against his chest. The ewe’s weight was considerably greater than he had anticipated. “Damn girl, there’s more to you than just wool,” he noted in a soothing voice. The ewe began to kick with her forelegs, threatening his equilibrium, but he kept talking until she settled down quietly.

She must weigh as much as most grown men,
he thought, eyeing the steep slope. There was no help for it, though. He began making his way up, the muscles in his calves and thighs protesting as he took the incline. Almost—the top was close, but it was too steep for him to carry her up it. He would have to lift her over his head to get her onto the level grass above before following. There was no way to make it while carrying her as he was, the sand kept sliding out from under his feet.

He tried.

Lifting a couple of hundred pounds straight overhead was no easy task even in normal circumstances, but with a living, moving sheep, it was nigh impossible. He did it anyway, ignoring the strain in his back and shoulders. She was almost over the top when the sand collapsed beneath him. He caught her as they fell, but her weight knocked the wind from him as he landed on the soft ground.

“Damnitt!” he swore, once he could finally get a good lungful of air. He never thought of giving up, though. Instead he was considering how much farther he would have to carry her if he followed the stream until he found an easier place to get her out.

“Need some assistance?” It was a woman’s voice.

Two figures had appeared, rising above the top of the embankment, both were on horseback. It was Lady Alyssa and Perry Draper. She wore a bright blue riding dress while he was accoutered in mail and a brown doublet.

Out for a ride, and he’s serving as her escort through the dangerous farmland,
thought Gram uncharitably. He chided himself for that, especially considering his own recent predicament.
Well, perhaps it is a little dangerous.

“Nah,” said Gram in a droll voice. “I was just enjoying the scenery.”

She laughed, but her smile vanished when she caught sight of the right side of his face. “There’s blood all over you. Stay put, I’ll come help you.”

Perry had been silent so far, but he protested at that idea. “You can’t, Lady Alyssa, you’ll ruin your dress.”

“Then you go down there and help them up,” she told him angrily.

He eyed the mud and sand, knowing it would be a serious chore to clean his armor if he got into the muck. His other option would be to remove it first, which would make the work of getting the ewe up the bank easier. “I’d rather not leave you here, unprotected.”

She stared at him, “Honestly, Perry, how dangerous do you think this pasture is?”

Gram had been watching them while he gathered his strength for another attempt. What amazed him most was her initial offer to climb down in her dress. It had been her first suggestion, before even considering having her companion help.
She’s obviously used to doing things herself,
he observed. “Actually, I was just attacked by a panther,” he announced, thinking to reinforce Perry’s argument.

In the past Perry had always gotten along with Gram, despite an undercurrent of envy that ran between them. They were similar in many respects, despite their differences in station and the fact that Perry would likely someday be a knight. Today, however, was different. Today Alyssa was with them.

“A panther?” scoffed the captain’s son. “Do you seriously expect us to believe that?”

At that moment, Gram couldn’t have cared less, “Well… yeah.”

“And where is this dangerous beast now?” asked Perry. “I suppose you’ll tell me it ran off.”

“No,” said Gram, shaking his head. “It’s dead. I drowned it in the brook.”

Perry looked at him unbelievingly, “Where’s the body then?”

Gram was growing angry now. “Are you calling me a liar, Perry?” he growled. “I didn’t roll around in the dirt down here just to impress
you.
”

“I’m just suggesting that perhaps you got dirty playing with your girlfriend…” began Perry.

Alyssa stopped him before things got out of hand, “Perry! Do you have any rope?”

The question interrupted the argument better than any protest could have. “What?” he said, pausing for a moment. “No…”