Hunting 6-2018

    Fluffikins took a deep breath, filling her lungs with fresh sea air. Curling her paws over the edge of the cliff, the large grey Dire stared down at the mass of seals that milled about on the beach below. Tiny seagulls flitted about, rising on the breezes blowing off the sea to their nests on the cliffs. It was all quite peaceful and serene—except she was hungry. Fluffikins’ stomach chose at that moment to rumble—loudly. Nose flushing with embarrassment, the big Dire glanced around to see if anyone had heard it.

    Thankfully, there was not a soul in sight. Not even the seals seemed to react. This was good, all things considered.

    Unfortunately for her stomach, she couldn’t go down to the beach just yet. The local tribe only let three Tokotas hunt at a time, and they all had to be present before they were let loose. One of the conditions of this particular hunt was that the Tokotas also had to bring the tribe their kills for inspection. Once the tribe took their share, then the rest were left for them to eat. Yes, it was a strange arrangement, but it was the tribe’s land, and that was how they wanted it done.

    Fluffikins had no argument there.

    “Excuse me … are you … Fluffikins?”

    Her name was spoken with a whisper of incredulousness—nothing she hadn’t heard before. The grey Dire turned her head. Two males, large for their type but small in comparison to her, stood side by side. One was a light-colored tundra with a clay-red mane; the other was a brown piebald. The latter wore a slight, mischievous expression, which told Fluffikins that it had been he who spoke.

    The tundra with the clay-red mane sighed and shook his head. “Hello, I’m Hjortur—but most just call me ‘Tor’. This goofball is Abel.” Tor’s friend grinned, tail swaying from side to side.

    Fluffikins nodded gravely to both males, evaluating their fitness, the gleam of their teeth, the brightness of their eyes. They were both quite healthy, but that didn’t equate a seasoned, practiced hunter.

    The brown piebald’s expression sobered. “I’m sorry if I offended you,” he said when she didn’t reply. “It’s just that your name …” He paused, as if evaluating his words. “It doesn’t suit you,” he finished in a rush.

    “No?” she said, jaw dropping to smile in the canine way. “But I am quite fluffy.” She shrugged her massive shoulders, letting the muscles roll under that thick, heavy—and decidedly fluffy—coat.

    Tor chuckled. “She’s got you there, Abel. Very fluffy.”

    Abel pawed at the ground, trying to cover up his embarrassment. Suddenly, Fluffikins’ stomach rumbling wasn’t that bad, after all! The grey Dire smiled privately and stood up, shaking out her coat. Bits of fluff peeled away and floated across the edge of the cliff. A seagull turned in midair and snatched a large chunk, carrying it back to its nest.

    Fluffikins turned and walked towards the area of the cliff that dropped down into a natural ramp. Tufts of tall, serrated grass grew along the path, snagging her fur as she passed by. The beach, with its wide swath of golden sand, stretched out before her. Sea-green water rolled up onto the beach, creating piles of bubbling foam that vanished as soon as the waves retreated, only to emerge a moment later. Over and over again, this same, endless song played out. Fascinating!

    A heavy body thudded next to hers. Fluffikins turned her head to see Abel standing nearby. She lifted a brow ridge in query.

    “I’m sorry if I offended you earlier,” the piebald said, ears slightly askew.

    Fluffikins blinked, and then lowered her head. “I’m not offended,” she told him quietly, and began to move off towards the waterline. Abel followed.

    “No? Are you sure? You’re awfully quiet. Lief gets quiet when I annoy her.”

    Well, she certainly wasn’t like this Lief. Fluffikins paused and dipped her toes into the cold water, letting the foam swirl around her paws. “No,” she said at last, choosing her words carefully. “It’s just in my nature to be reserved.” She raised one paw and watched as the water ran off her fur, dribbling back into the ocean.

    “Abel,” Tor called out. There was a touch of sharpness to his tone. “Leave the lady alone. I think you’ve apologized enough,” he added with a wry snort.

    The brown piebald blinked, and then nodded. He moved off a ways, studying the pile of rocks that lay beyond, all with seals heaped among them. Fluffikins drew her paw through the water, considering their plan of attack. Tor slid into the spot that Abel vacated.

    “I think he likes you,” the tundra male confided, sliding one brown eye in Abel’s direction. “He’s normally not this flustered.”

    Like me? Fluffikins’ brow ridges shot up, touching the white crescent mark in the middle of her forehead. “Oh,” was all she could say and went back to staring at the water.

    Tor coughed. “So, I understand that we can take up to ten seals,” he said conversationally. “Seven will go to the tribe and the other three will be our meal. Have you hunted here before?”

    Fluffikins lifted her head. “No, but I hear that they have one of the largest populations—in terms of both herd size and animal size. They seem to have moved here after a herd of walrus banished them from their home beach.”

    Something flickered in Tor’s brown eyes, a passing thought that flitted through his mind. He looked like he wanted to say something, but swallowed it. Whatever it was, it wasn’t important. Fluffikins didn’t let it bother her.

    Instead, the male with the clay-red mane said, “So, how would you like to go about this?”

    Fluffikins raised a brow ridge. “I’m sorry? You want me to decide?”

    Tor laughed. “Lief, our pack leader, is female. I tend to defer to females as rule.”

    The grey Dire tossed her head back and laughed, a soft, quiet sound. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Abel had joined them. His ears were up and he didn’t seem to showing any signs of embarrassment. This was good.

    Fluffikins peered across the beach at the milling seals. They knew something was up, but they didn’t want to call too much attention to themselves. Slowly, they were inching towards the sea—and freedom. “We’ll take turns catching one in pairs,” she said at last. “We’ll drag the carcass back here, where the third will bring it to the hill.” She nodded at the sandy ramp that they’d come down on. “We’ll rotate every two kills, so we don’t get exhausted. Does that sound good?”

    Abel and Tor glanced at each other, then at Fluffikins. “Sounds good to me,” Tor said. Abel nodded. “Do you want to stay behind first?” he asked Abel.

    “Fine by me,” the brown piebald replied, settling on his haunches. “Bring me a nice, fat one.”

    Fluffikins chuckled to herself. They were all fat. “Let’s go.” She and Tor took off at a trot, gradually fanning out from each other until they ran parallel. The seals spotted them coming and finally panicked. A great, barking cry rolled up from the herd as they pushed and shoved each other in an effort to reach the ocean first.

    Fluffikins tipped one ear, indicating a particularly slow cow. Tor caught her meaning quickly, which was impressive. The two of them turned in unison and descended on the aged female—a spotted seal missing part of her right forelimb. Fluffikins went for the neck; Tor for the hindquarters. Together, they wrestled the seal around and finished her off quickly, without too much struggle.

    The seals were in a right panic now. They surged towards the ocean, barreling past where Fluffikins and Tor stood with their prey. The carcass got flipped around and almost carried down to the waterline before Tor was able to grab it by the flukes and yank it back. As one, they dragged the seal back to Abel, who in turn took it up to the base of the sandy ramp.

    Fluffikins had already picked out their next target. All it took was a twitch of her nose and swivel of her ear and Tor caught her meaning. Her appreciation for these two males went up. It wasn’t every day she underestimated someone’s hunting prowess.

    As the afternoon wore on, they were able to successfully hunt to their quota. Ten seals—five cows and five bulls—lay spread out on the sand, their bodies still in death. If the Tokotas had taken a nip here or there to satisfy their hunger, well, no one would know. There was enough meat to go around.

    The three of them gathered around the kills, blood splattered across their muzzles and fronts. Fluffikins nodded to each of the males. “It was a pleasure hunting with you,” she said softly. And she meant it. “Perhaps we can do this again sometime?”

    Tor glanced at Abel, who looked away briefly. Fluffikins chuckled kindly. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” she said. Something shuffled atop the cliff. All three Tokotas looked up to see the tribesmen staring down at them.

    “Might as well get these up there,” Tor said. Abel and Fluffikins nodded. Each of them took a seal by the hind flukes and began the process of dragging them up the sandy ramp to the cliff top.