Future Kin by Anthology

Author:Anthology [Anthology]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-02-05T00:00:00+00:00

THE KNIFE AND THE SHEATH

by Christopher Anvil

Able and Ted Andrews stood with the afternoon sunlight on their backs, the tips of their longbows resting on the stony soil of the ridge. In the distance, the yearly supply ship rose, glimmering with reflected light, above the dense forest.

Ted Andrews glanced up at his brother.

“Dad told us we might miss the supply ship if we went hunting now.”

Able calculatingly eyed the tall gray trunk of a dead staplenut tree down the slope toward the forest. There was the stub of a limb halfway up the tree, and the stub was hollow. Down the side below the stub were many small scratch marks where the splintered wood showed light brown.

“I’d rather hunt than watch the ship,” said Able. He selected several rocks the size of hens’ eggs.

Ted said disgustedly, “We haven’t seen anything to hunt.”

“We’ve seen sign.”

Able studied the tree carefully, then hurled three rocks one after another.

“Can’t eat sign,” Ted was saying. As Able threw the rocks, he blinked and stared.

The first rock hit the tree squarely, above the stub, to make a hollow bonk sound. The second hit on a level with the stub, and the third arced in just below it. Able bent to get his bow.

“Bonk!” came the sound of the second rock as Ted watched blankly.

“Bonk!” came the sound of the third rock.

Able straightened with his bow.

There was a muffled squawk. A sinuous brown-gray creature the length of a man’s forearm shot out the hollow stub and turned in the air. It stretched out all four limbs and the furry membrane that ran between them, and planed to the ground, to streak downhill in darting zigzags.

Able waited exasperatedly for it to pause, but instead it took a sharp swerve past a clump of thick brush. The brush shook. Something blue-gray and big burst out with a flash of teeth and glowing eyes.

Ted Andrews caught his breath.

“Woods cat!”

Able sucked in a deep breath, and strained to judge angle and distance. The two were running straight, and he risked the shot of an arrow.

The wind gusted, to rustle the long dangling leaves of a waterfall tree by the edge of the woods. The leaves briefly showed white undersides, their edges brushing to make the low roar that gave the tree its name.

The gust moved the arrow aside, and, this done, died as quickly as it had sprung up.

Suddenly the big gray cat caught up with its prey.

Able aimed carefully, shot an arrow, shot another—The cat sprang up, twisted in the air, clawed at its back—

Able let one more arrow fly.

The cat sprang almost straight up, twisted, and fell full length. Able swallowed, lowered his bow, and glanced around.

“See anything?”

“No.”

Able started downhill.

Ted cried, “We aren’t going down there!”

Able looked back.

“We can’t give up all that meat and hide.”

“Dad said, ‘Stay out of the woods!’ ”

“Are you scared?”

“No, but—”

“Then watch in back. I’ll watch in front.”

Ted glanced nervously around, and followed.

The big trees loomed taller and taller overhead.

The dead woods cat lay outstretched, one arrow through its back, the other through its neck.

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