Free The Hunter Returns by David Drake, Jim Kjelgaard

became sober-faced as soon as Hawk sprang to his feet.
    For a moment he was angry. He raised his club, tempted to smash the gray puppy’s brains out with it, but the look of pleading on Willow’s face made him desist. He lowered the club, pushed the puppy out of the way with his foot, caught up his spear, and stalked haughtily off to gather more wood. Unabashed, the gray puppy trailed at his heels.
    A flock of big, turkeylike birds scattered ahead of him. One by one they rose to wing away. Hawk drew back his club to hurl it at one of the birds, but he was forestalled by the gray puppy. Yapping hysterically, it flung himself forward and leaped upon a running bird.
    He fastened his small teeth on the wing feathers, and strained backward with all his strength. The running bird dragged him, but the puppy would not let go nor could the bird rise while thus encumbered. Hawk stepped forward, grabbed the running bird, snatched it away from the puppy, and wrung its neck.
    He stood still, dangling the big bird by its twisted neck and smacking his lips. Such game was a delicacy which the tribe almost never enjoyed because the hunters could seldom get close enough to kill it. The spear-maker looked down at the panting puppy, who now reared against his knee, stretching an eager nose toward the bird. Hawk stared quizzically at him.
    A few hours ago the puppy had been a wild, savage thing, ready and willing to fight him as best it could. Now it was almost tame. Too young to know any better, it had accepted the humans in place of its own parents, and had even aided in the hunt.
    This was something entirely new to Hawk, and therefore something he could not understand. Certainly he would not have the bird had not the puppy caught it for him. This much he realized. But there was, in his mind, no possible connection between one single incident and the idea of using the puppy as a hunting companion. Men had always hunted for themselves and he would continue to do so. But at least he felt more kindly disposed toward his small prisoner.
    He gathered an armful of wood and returned to the fire. The dun puppy gamboled happily out to meet him. Kicking him aside, Hawk threw the dead bird down beside Willow. The gray puppy sat expectantly on his haunches, turning bright little eyes from Willow to Hawk and back at the bird. He barked sharply, and wagged his furry tail.
    Hawk ate a piece of antelope, saying nothing about the remainder. Certainly there was more missing than he and Willow had eaten, therefore she must have fed the puppies while he had been sleeping. That was all right as long as there was plenty.
    His meat finished, Hawk tossed the bone to the gray puppy and moved restlessly about the camp.
    The lurking tiger posed a very real threat, and one that must be dealt with. It was not the ordinary night prowler or occasional daytime visitor. This tiger had marked its quarry down and evidently had a plan. It seemed to know humans and their habits, and sooner or later would catch Willow or Hawk, or both, away from their fire and in a place where they might safely be attacked.
    Armed with the two spears, his throwing-stick, and his club, Hawk left the fire. He circled through the forest to the rocky ledge upon which he had seen the tiger. It had left, and Hawk moved cautiously up to the place where it had been. He found the tiger’s resting place in a ledge of rocks from which the camp could be studied to perfect advantage. Keeping a spear poised, and constantly on the alert, Hawk followed the tiger’s tracks.
    For a moment he was puzzled because they led downhill and away from the camp. He stooped in order to study the tiger’s trail more clearly. The beast was a long way ahead of him, but there was always the possibility that it might circle and lay an ambush. Hawk hunted into the wind, always trying to know what lay ahead, and whenever the tiger’s trail veered with the wind, he circled until he picked it up again. A half-hour later he knew