Thieves
Chapter 17 - Mounted


The hit with the knife, though blocked by the silver coin, hurt immensely. Jack was sure to have a bruise tomorrow, not to mention his arm. His fingers still throbbed. Back up on his feet he went over to the cause of all this. The slave hunter lay motionless in the snow, a thin line of blood still drooling from his nose.

"Is he dead?" Sis asked, staring down at his work. He didn't wish him death, but he'd never go back to that life.

Jack squatted beside the man, pressing his fingers against his neck. "Not yet."

One part within Sis felt relieved, another felt concerned.

Jack picked the whip and the man's knife from the ground. He cut the hilt from the whip, turned the man over, on his front, and tied his hands over his back with the whip's leather cord. While pulling the knot tight, a wave of pain swept through his arm. Jack flinched.

"You alright? I know how a whip hurts. You should probably cool it down, before it swells up," Sis advised. Receiving a lash really wasn't fun. The fox knew that Jack would suffer on it for a few days.

"I'm good," he said, eyeing over the white hilt of the knife, turning the ivory in his fingers. He fired it into the woods.

Sis saw the weapon disappear into the undergrowth, "Ain't you going to keep that? Sell it or something? It looked quite valuable."

Jack shook his head, "Every slave hunter's got a special sign that he's known by. A tattoo, flashy scar, a weapon or a symbol. I'm pretty sure this was his," he explained. "We really don't want to be seen with that thing." That, though, didn't mean the man wouldn't carry anything else of value. Once the knife was discarded he started filching the hunter.

He found a pouch with some money in it, in his pocket. The man's coat held a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter, which Jack quickly obtained, and a flask that likewise wandered into Jack's pockets. The rest of his stuff was pretty useless, a stack of folded papers, containing the descriptions of a hand-full of other escaped slaves and their promised bounties, two keys on a metal ring, a tiny compass, though no map, a sturdy string, about two feet long, and a shabby, old pocket watch that wouldn't bring in much if they tried to sell it. Tucked in the hunter's boot, Jack found another, smaller knife. It was probably his last means of defense.

He tossed the weapon to the fox, "Here. That might be better than biting your foe's ass, next time."

Sis caught the little, sheathed knife. It had a short, wooden hilt, perfect for his small paws. "Did work, though," he said to Jack. While the human went over to the horse that stood several paces away, behind some trees, to search the saddle, Sis turned the knife over in his paws. He tucked it out of its sheath and looked at its dark blade. It wasn't silver and polished, like Jack's, it locked decayed, almost rusted, but the steel was perfectly smooth to the touch and the blade was sharp enough to cut a few hairs as he draw his pads over the cold metal.

Jack was done going through the saddle bags when Sis joined him. "Nothing special here," he said, closing the bags again. "But he's got some food. And," he added smiling, "we won't need to carry the whole shit anymore." He gave the back of the horse a light pat.

The fox turned to the still unconscious man, "What do we do with him?"

"Well," Jack's smile was gone, "we cannot possibly let him go, just like that."

"So... you mean..."

"Yes," was Jack's answer.

The fox couldn't really cope with the idea, "Isn't there another way, Jack?"

His friend had just finished lighting a cigarette, "We can't leave him here, or he'll die anyway, and we can't let him go, because he'll come after us, with more men, and he knows where we're going. Taking him with us isn't an option either, we'd need to share our scarce supplies with him, he'd slow us down and we'd have to stand guard at night, so he doesn't kill us in our sleep."

The solution to their problem didn't fit Sis right, but Jack's words were true. There was no possible way this could work. Better he than we, Sis thought.

"I don't need to do it here, if you don't want it," Jack spoke softly behind him.

Having made his decision, Sis turned around and looked Jack in the face. "Okay," he nodded. "But please, do it quick."

"Sure, foxy," he said, coming a step closer and patting the back of the fox's head. Then he went for the unconscious man, grabbed him under the arms and dragged him into the forest.

***

He hauled the lifeless body deep into the woods, deeper than he might have to, but, should the guy put up a fight, Jack didn't wanted Sis to hear. And foxes have keen ears, as his friend has proved by now.

The fact that the slave hunter had found them made Jack uncomfortable. If he could do it, others could do it. And since the fox wasn't only sought after as runaway AND for murder, but also for doing so on an important member of the Dolemans, chances were that they would. It would be best to get this done with as soon as possible and quickly move on, probably even cross the river, should the possibility arise.

Being far out of earshot now, Jack let the man slump down against a thick tree. His arms were still bound to his back. Keeping a safe distance, Jack crouched down beside him, took a deep drag on his cigarette and pressed the glowing end against the man's skin. Slowly consciousness turned back to him.

As the man shook the cobwebs from his mind, letting a grunt slip as he did, Jack pulled his knife from the back of his pants, where he'd stowed it earlier. He gripped it tight. He didn't know how bad his injuries were, or if he could still fight. The man was quite strong, as he'd learned. Suddenly, the hunter seemed to recognize Jack, pulling irritated at the leather cord around his wrists.

"What da'...? Let me go ya fuckin' bastard!!" he yelled, yanking madly at his bonds.

Jack pointed the knife at him. "How did you find us?" he questioned. He didn't respond. "Tell me how you found us," he repeated, underlining his question with his knife.

The man spit on the ground, "Ah' ain't tellin' ya nothin'."

The knife in his hand, Jack punched his face, hard. "We can get this done quickly," Jack offered, "or, I can take my time. That's up to you. But the end will be the same for you."

The man pushed himself up, trying to get on his legs and away, but Jack simply beat him again, this time using the hilt of the hunting knife. He slumped back against the trunk. "Tell me, how you found us," Jack hissed through his teeth. He pressed the knife into his side. As the man still refused to speak, Jack increased the pressure.

"Slaves want north. Ain't many ways there, for short ones. Kept askin' 'round, some o' ma guys saw ya leave St. Curs'n with two slaves. Were the only foxes tha' left town. Got easy from there," the man murmured in anger.

Jack didn't ease off, "How many are still after us?"

"Saw four guys leave with me at da' Doleman's. None o' my men. Could be more by now, tho'."

"How much is the fox's bounty?" Jack wanted to know.

"Three-fifty," he answered. "Ya'd better bring the slave in ya'self. Would get ya quite da'-a..."

The man didn't get to finish his sentence, as Jack drove his knife deep into his chest, right where the heart was. It took only a second for him to open his eyes wide, realizing his end. He was dead within moments. As the last breath escaped his now punctured lung, Jack pulled the blade free. A big puddle of blood slowly spread over his coat, dripping into the white snow, leaving red spots.

Jack blew a white cloud of smoke into the cold air and wiped his knife on the man's shoulder, cleaning the blood from the blade. He hated to do things like this, but more so he hated the things that would have been done, hadn't he done what he did.

He stood, scanning the empty forest for a moment, before returning to Sis, leaving the dead body as it was.

***

While Jack was gone, doing what had to be done, Sis was busying himself with packing their stuff. Their backpacks were already waiting for them and he had refilled the waterskins with snow and put them next to the remnants of the fire, to thaw it up. He had just started to break down the tent, as he heard footsteps crunch in the snow behind him.

"Done?" he asked simply, turning around to face Jack.

The man nodded. "Yeah," he said, a new cigarette lit between his lips. "Hurry up. We need to leave," Jack ordered and helped Sis to fold and store the tent.

Jack seemed to be in a rush, and concerned. "Why are you so in haste?" the fox asked. "I think you've taken care of him. He said himself it was hard to find us."

"He said there's a bounty on your head now. He won't be the only one chasing us," Jack explained to Sis, relying on presumptions rather than telling him about his interrogation. "It is true that our tracks ain't easy to find, and that might be the very reason we can make this, but, this hunter's tracks ain't hard to follow. And we don't know how many men follow us, how near they are to us or if there are any followers to begin with. I just don't want to find out."

The tent was flat now. Sis stored the pegs and the poles, while Jack rolled the tarp up. "Hey, Jack," he spoke. He turned to his friend and was a bit unsure about how he was going to say, what he was about to say, but he knew he had to say it. Jack paused his task of fastening the tent to the backpack and turned his attention to the fox. "Thanks... for... standing up for me. That was... really brave of you, and... and I appreciate that."

"Sure, foxy. Everything for you," he grinned and tucked the strap tight to hold the tent in place. He shouldered the whole pack. "Now let's go. I wanna see if we can mount that beast," he said pointing to the horse that still stood nearby.

The two padded over to the animal. "Have you ever ridden a horse?" Sis wanted to know. He himself had never ridden one and only seen some from a distance. When he stood beside the giant stud, he felt even smaller than usual. With its head up, it was even a few inches taller than Jack. Sis could position himself under the beast, standing upright without problems, and he wouldn't even need to fold his ears down. He held a lot of respect for the horse in front of him.

Jack scratched his head. "Well.... Not exactly," he admitted. "But, how hard can that be, right?"

Jack reached under Sis' arms and lifted him upon the back of the stallion, then he mounted it himself. They both fit easily in the saddle, it wasn't that the fox would take much space. Jack sat right behind him and Sis could feel his stomach press to his back. He didn't mind the proximity. Actually, it gave him some feeling of safety. He was unused to sitting so far from the ground. Honestly, this might be the highest he'd been from earth, since he was a whelp and climbed trees. The sensation had its good sides too, though. Seeing the world from up here was beautiful. He rarely had the opportunity to feel big.

"Okay," Jack said, taking the rains in his hands. "Hold on, foxy, I'm startin'. Heya!" he yelled and jerked the rains. The horse didn't move.

"Impressive," Sis mocked, smiling over his friend's failed attempt to get the beast to move.

"Shut up, it's my first time!"

He pulled the rains again, trying other incentives like, "Giddyup!" or, "YipYip!" Though, the animal still showed unimpressed. He tapped it with his heels in the sides, which caused the horse to neigh and stomp with its hooves, but nothing more than that. 

Sis craned his neck around, "'How hard can that be?' eh?"

"Well, I'm obviously not as good with horses than with foxes," the human replied.

"Is that so?"

Jack reached around and spanked the stallion on the ass. This time it worked. The hit wasn't hard enough to startle the animal, though, it finally started to move. "Ah! There we go. Told ya I got this."

"Hm-hm," Sis nodded. "And how are you going to steer this brute, oh great horse whisperer?"

Jack laughed, "What? Scared we'll run into a tree? I believe this thing to have enough brain to avoid this."

"Then it's got probably more than you."

"Ssssss, ouch!" he sobbed and put his chin down on Sis' head. "You're hurtin' me, foxy," he made his voice sound as though he was about to cry.

The fox elbowed him softly, to get him back up. "Oh, don't expect my pity. You're a tough guy."

Jack didn't let himself be distracted by the fox's elbow in his side. He nuzzled the fur between his big ears, mocking a deep and soothing sob, "Ya really mean it?"

"Yeah, yeah!" he confirmed, patting him on the leg. "Now get the hell outta my fur, human!"

"Hmmm," Jack snuggled his head. "But it's, hmmm, soooo soft!"

"Yeah. And if you don't stop, I'll show you how hard my fists are," Sis warned, shaking a paw for Jack to see.

The human sighed disappointed and retreated, "Hm, always the romantic, eh, foxy?"
