Sniffer’s ankle was throbbing. ‘Maybe it had not been such a good idea to come to the den so soon,’ he thought. Stevo, Mitch and Tiddles were lying beside him on the snow-covered ground. Sniffer started to lose sensation in his hands from the biting wind descending the hillside. The wind had been picking up as they had travelled to the den, and the sunken skies were once again heavy with snow. The valley was acting like a funnel, the wind being forced across where they lay. Powdery snow was being thrown into the air, swirling around the area. Small snow tornados were formed as they spiralled through the surrounding trees. The open area in front of the den looked empty, and they were unsure if the Spylore was still there. Anything could have happened since their last visit, and with only one Spylore left, other Wild Ones may have even visited since.

Sniffer was blowing gently on his hands; they had only been in position about forty minutes when Stevo nudged him, and he looked up towards the den. Just by the cave opening, one of the cubs had appeared. It slowly moved outside and seemed to shudder from the strong wind striking its small frame. Moments later, the adult appeared behind it, calling at it, its growl being carried towards them down the valley's steep side. It stood at the entrance and pushed its paw at the cub, moving it back towards the cave mouth. The cubs were still small, so they could be no more than three or four months old from Sniffer's reckoning. Juveniles normally grew to about four feet in length by the time they reached twelve months, and then they kept growing until adulthood. Juvenile Spylore could be just as awkward as adults, but these cubs were no threat. They were still so small, the issue being the adults and how they behaved protecting their young. The term ferocious did not quite explain their nature.

Stevo was carrying the rifle and slowly moved it, aiming towards the adult. Spylore and Sniffer watched as he sighted the creature. He laid his arm on Stevo’s and shook his head, indicating not to shoot yet. The adult stood in the den entrance, making a loud, unnerving call. Sniffer assumed it must have been calling for the rest of the pack. He knew it would need to hunt to feed the cubs and itself, without which it would starve. The adult then pushed the cub back towards the den. The cub mewed in defiance, but the adult Spylore growled at it, making it return inside out of the cold and wind. It stood watching it go back inside, and then it turned, facing up the hillside behind the den to the higher treeline running near the valley ridge. It started to make its way towards the trees, and it wasn’t long before it disappeared over the ridge.

“We should go and deal with the cubs while it is away. Stevo, come with me; Mitch and Tiddles, you stay here.”

Sniffer slowly moved into a crouching position, his limbs stiff from the cold and his ankle burning from the excessive strain of trudging to the location. They began to move forward. Stevo brought the rifle, and Mitch had the pistol with him. Although he had admitted he had only shot a pistol a few times and was not accurate with the weapon, it was better than bringing a spear. They slowly moved up the hill, Stevo at his side, and approached the den. His ankle was burning with every step now, and he knew that he had done too much too soon with his display notifying him about his damaged limb.

They were about fifty feet from the entrance when one of the cubs appeared again. It looked like the same one as before and was the more inquisitive of the three he had seen. It looked around and noticed the two men down from the entrance. It started making a calling and hissing sound. “Quick, let’s kill them before the adult returns,” Sniffer said. They both stood fully and headed straight towards the cub.

That was a big mistake. As they approached another adult, Spylore appeared in the entranceway behind it. “Shit, there is another adult,” Stevo said, pulling the rifle into his shoulder. The sight took Sniffer by surprise. There must have been one that had not been out the day the rest of the pack had been when they had initially scouted. Stevo and he froze where they were. The cub stood by its feet with a look of defiance, snarling like its adult counterpart. At any other time, seeing the small cub acting like the adult stood next to it would have been humorous. The adult let out a loud growl and hissed at them both, taking a step forward in front of the cub.

“Shoot it,” Sniffer said.

Stevo pulled the trigger on the rifle. The crack of the rifle echoed off the valley walls, startling both the Spylore and the cub, making the cub turn and bolt back inside. The Spylore twitched slightly, and Sniffer saw a line of blood appear on its foreleg.

“Fuck.” Stevo said, missing the creature's centre mass and only grazing it. He went to reload the rifle, grabbing the bolt arm and moving it clumsily. He was not a trained marksman and had only shot the rifle himself a few times.

“Quick move. We need to split up. We are too close to each other.” Sniffer said.

Stevo was frozen to the spot, trying to reload the rifle. “Move now,” Sniffer snapped. As Stevo suddenly realised, he started to move right, and as he continued to struggle with the rifle, he moved left.

The Spylore roared, sweeping its head from side to side as they began to separate. It had not yet attacked, being cautious, possibly as the only line of defence between them and the cubs.

“Boy,” Sniffer shouted. Within moments, Tiddles had flown up the hillside and was by his side. Sniffer knew he couldn’t move quickly and was dead in the water if it decided to attack him. They had split by about thirty feet. Mitch was also up, and Sniffer heard him shouting as he approached them. He was too far back to hit anything from that range with the pistol. The Spylore was looking at one, then the other. Tiddles took a few paces sideways, and he moved between the men. Sniffer knew that he could pounce at it if the Spylore went either way.

“Stevo, drop back down the hill,” Sniffer called. Stevo did as he was asked and slowly started backing away, finally managing to force the round into the chamber of the rifle and bringing it back up to a firing position. There was a loud call in the distance, and Sniffer knew the other Spylore was now aware and returning. They needed to act now before it arrived.

“Go, boy,” Sniffer said. Tiddles howled at the Spylore and bounded up the hill, heading straight for it. It hissed again, and as Tiddles neared, it launched itself over the top of him using the height advantage and came straight at Sniffer. Sniffer flung himself to the floor and backwards down the valley side. He felt his ankle give way and yelped in pain as he crashed to the earth on his back. The Spylore landed only a few feet from Sniffer and immediately went to attack, pouncing towards him. Stevo’s rifle cracked again, but the round sailed over the Spylore's back, missing it altogether. Tiddles howled on landing, annoyed at missing his target, and immediately turned and pounced back.

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Sniffer watched in slow motion as the Spylore pounced, its jaws opened, and in what seemed like a lifetime, watched its life-ending fangs extend from its open mouth. He could do nothing. He was prone on his back in the snow and knew his ankle had just given up on him completely. The creature’s eyes shone in the dull light as its huge head neared its target, and it was aiming straight for his head. The jaws began to close, and he closed his eyes, knowing his life was over. When it suddenly jerked up short of his head. Its fangs snapped shut around his good leg. He screamed, feeling the excruciating pain as its fangs pierced his leg, cutting through flesh and bone alike. His display triggered, and he heard the bone in his leg crack a deep, audible sound. He could feel the immediate warmth of his blood soaking his leg as the Spylore released its grip on him, turning to meet Tiddles.

‘No, you don’t, you don’t hurt Sniffer,’ Tiddles had thought as he had pounced back. He hurtled at the Spylore and clamped down on its tail before it could reach Sniffer fully. This had thankfully been enough to prevent a fatal attack outright, but he saw the Wild One’s fangs dig deep into his leg and knew Sniffer would be badly injured. Sniffer did not have the luxury of the thick defensive layers of skin that he did. He howled at the Spylore, tearing the tip of its tail off as he did so. It hissed in pain, turning on Tiddles, who had the higher ground this time, and he swung his paw, smashing it across its jaw as it spun around. The Spylore head was forced back, and it staggered, stepping back onto Sniffer, who screamed as its weight landed on his injured leg. He thundered into it, and his momentum carried them tumbling over Sniffer and down the hillside, rolling amidst flashing claws and teeth.

Sniffer could not move; he was at the mercy of whatever would happen. He heard Stevo shout something but could not work out what and then realised the second Spylore had returned. It ignored Sniffer and went straight for Stevo. He pulled the rifle up and fired a snapshot towards it. It shrieked in pain as the round caught it in the body, but it didn’t stop it from moving. It changed direction and headed towards Tiddles, where he was fighting with the other Spylore. Tiddles had managed to pin the other one, and Sniffer could see him turning his head as he performed his trademark killing bite. Tiddles did not know the other was coming for him. Before he could react, it leapt and pounced on his back, sinking its fangs deep into his shoulders.

Tiddles howled in agony and threw himself forward, releasing his bite from the Spylore's throat and pulling chunks of flesh away. He threw himself forward, trying to roll on top of and crush the Spylore, who was now clung to his back. Their combined weight thudded into the ground, and the Spylore released its grip as Tiddles landed on top of it; it scrambled backwards, getting back to its feet.

Tiddles’ display had fired a warning message, and all four Spylore fangs had punctured his skin. It had hurt this time, and he was now terribly upset. The ungodly sound of the howl of Tiddles silenced the valley. The wind even seemed to still at the ferocious sound.

Mitch had made it up the steep slope and aimed at the Spylore, rapidly pulling the pistol's trigger. It cracked and popped as the rounds were sent towards it. One shot caught it in its side; although the others missed, it was enough to draw its attention. It turned, leaping at Mitch. Mitch squealed as it hit, raking its claws down across his body, his jacket shredded and digging deeply into his flesh.

Tiddles had not been able to react quick enough with the injury he had just sustained, and his shoulders throbbing where the Spylore had bit across them.

Mitch dropped, screaming in agony. Stevo had reloaded the rifle and aimed again at the Spylore. He shot at it as it turned from where Mitch lay moaning, looking at him. It ran straight towards him, bounding up the hill, intent on taking him out. Tiddles had recovered enough and pounced at the Spylore as it hurtled up the hill. He hit it in its side, knocking it off balance and causing it to sprawl sideways across the valley side. It turned at Tiddles and stood again, hissing and tense, pure hatred seeping from it. Tiddles would not let anyone else get injured, and he hurtled at it. The intensity of the fight unfolded with strikes from both creatures reaching their targets. Tiddles’s injury had slowed his movements, not drastically but enough to make the battle much more even than it usually would be.

The Spylore eventually made the mistake of overreaching to claw his face, and he took advantage, ducking his head, pain and warnings flaring across his display as he took the claws in his left foreleg as he moved into the blow. His jaws were now in range of the Spylore, and with a swift bite, he bit down and through its nose, tearing its tip-off. The Spylore pulled away reflexively at the pain, releasing its claws from Tiddles's leg, and he immediately pounced, this time forcing it backwards and landing on top of it. He opened his huge maw and bit down directly into its back. He felt his teeth ripping through its muscular frame and finding the resistance of its spine before he crunched straight through, severing its spinal column. Immediately, Spylore’s rear legs collapsed, now paralysed from the bite, and Tiddles turned and ripped into its neck, ending its life.

Stevo ran over to Sniffer as he was closest to him. Sniffer was in the process of pulling his belt off, and Stevo helped place it around the wound location on his leg and tighten it. It would hopefully reduce the blood loss. “You ok,” Stevo said.

“Legs bust. I felt it go, and my ankles gone again. I cannot move anywhere like this. Check on Mitch. He took a nasty hit,” pain was spread across his face, and now the two adults were dealt with; he looked at his display. His thigh was broken, his ankle severely sprained again, and he had received blood loss warnings, which, now that a tourniquet was applied, had slowed.

Stevo moved over to Mitch. He was no longer conscious, having collapsed from the chest wound he had suffered. Stevo removed Mitch’s jacket, seeing the visible slashes that had torn open his chest. He removed his jacket and pulled his top off, wrapping it around the wounds and staunching the blood flow as best as possible. He shouted up to Sniffer. “He is in a bad way,” as he pulled his jacket back on.

“Get him back to town,” Sniffer replied.

“What about you?” Stevo called.

“I will be okay for now. Tiddles will stay with me. Go get him down.” He said.

“I will be back as quickly as I can with help.” He said as he lifted Mitch and draped his unconscious form across his shoulders. Carrying him like a sack of feed, he began to trudge through the snow back down towards the river’s edge and flatter terrain, heading back to town.

“Boy, come here,” Sniffer said.

Tiddles walked over to him. He had blood oozing from his wounds on his back, but it was not pouring out of him and even though he had been hit with all the fangs from the Spylore, it didn’t look too bad. “Are you ok?” Sniffer asked.

He growled and rubbed up against him gently. Sniffer sat in the middle of the clearing between the treeline and the den entrance and could not use his lower limbs. “Can you drag me to the den? I need to get out of this wind.” He said to Tiddles.

Tiddles nodded and moved behind Sniffer, gently gripping the back of his jacket by its hood in his teeth and began to pull him up the hillside towards the cave mouth. Sniffer winced and gasped in pain as he was dragged up the hill. Grimacing from the intense pain of his broken leg, they eventually reached the entrance. Sniffer immediately felt the temperature difference being out of the cutting wind. He managed to prop himself up against the entrance wall. “Thanks, boy.” He said, placing his hand on Tiddles’s face. Tiddles just looked at him with what could only be described as a concern in his eyes.

“You know what you need to do.” He said, nodding further into the cave.

Tiddles turned, looking then back at Sniffer. “I will be ok. Go and finish the job.” He said.

Tiddles turned, walking into the depths of the cave.

He sat there propped against the entrance; he was feeling lightheaded and exhausted from blood loss and the adrenaline coming down. He just wanted to close his eyes and rest, but he knew he should stay awake. He fought the sensation for as long as he could before exhaustion and blood loss stole his consciousness from him.