At first he was going to acknowledge the itch across the back of his neck as a combination of fatigue and imagination, and the result of the mat-trans jump.
Then three flashes of light blossomed near the area where they’d found the hanging corpses.
Ryan froze, but no sound reached him. Another couple flashes splintered through the thick foliage, then they died away. He waited, letting a slow, careful breath seep through his teeth, the wind snaring the gray mist of it and razoring it to shreds that evaporated.
The growl drew his attention immediately.
Ryan spun, bringing the Steyr up before him, gripping the barrel in his other hand. Ahead of him Jak suddenly moved backward, one hand lifted up defensively while the other sprouted one of his leaf-bladed throwing knives. A gray-furred, muscular body followed him, growling, the ivory fangs slashing from out of thin black lips.
“Fuck!” Jak snarled as he went backward. His left hand had slid in behind the wolf’s neck and gripped a handful of hide and hair. He wasn’t able to restrain the beast, but he pushed it away enough that the jaws crashed together on empty space over his shoulder rather than his face.
As Ryan started forward, intending to help, the wolfs mate exploded from the cave with a deadly grace.
Wheeling, Ryan brought up the Steyr, placing it between the bitch’s slavering jaws. Teeth crunched against the barrel, and the weight of the animal shoved him backward. He lost traction against a patch of frost and started to go down. The wolf stayed with him, loosing her hold on the rifle and making another attempt to sink her fangs into his flesh.
Ryan kicked out, fighting to keep her hind legs from ripping into his belly. He slammed a forearm into her face, creating some breathing room. Free of her for the moment, he rolled away, releasing the Steyr and pushing himself to his feet.
The wolf was already on him, launching herself like a gray arrow at his face.
Braced and ready, knowing he couldn’t turn his back to her and that firing his blaster would draw the attention of everyone in the area, Ryan reached out and seized her front legs. Before she could bite him, he shifted his weight and used her momentum against her to throw her behind him.
The wolf landed in a twisting sprawl in the frost. Whirling in a frenzy, howling in impatience, she lunged back to her feet.
“No gun,” Ryan said. He didn’t have time to check on Jak. The panga came free in his hand in a heartbeat, and the wolf was on him. He didn’t try to finesse her. He met her charge standing, knowing it would be over for one of them before the next breath was drawn.
Keeping his left arm crooked in front of his face, Ryan waited until the moment of impact, felt her slam against his chest and her breath hot against his left cheek. Then he levered his forearm up under her muzzle. A fang ripped skin along his left temple, but the rest missed him, chomping tight, the sound echoing in his ear. Working his weight from his hips, he spun and put everything he had into a vicious stab that arced around to the wolf’s side.
The panga penetrated easily, hot blood spilling onto Ryan’s palm and making his hand slick. He kept the grip, forcing his forearm up against the wolf again. Ruthlessly he dragged the panga across the animal’s underbelly to the other side of the rib cage. Steaming loops of entrails flipped free of the abdomen and dropped onto the ground, scattering blood over Ryan’s clothes.
He held on to the wolf until the fight for survival turned into spasmodic quivers. Yanking his knife free, he wheeled, ready to help Jak.
The albino was already on his feet. Beside him the great wolf was stretched out on a battlefield of blood, gutted. A deep incision started at the center of the beast’s throat and ran straight back along his belly. Everything in between had spilled out in twisted coils.
Jak wasn’t even breathing hard. His ruby eyes were glowing as he regarded Ryan. “No more.”