Chapter Two

"We did, didn't we boys, show those jerks something!"

"They won't attempt to steal one of our cows again, you can be sure of that"

"Have you seen that opening shot? I adore my new rifle!"

The final voice was heard to his left. Damien shifted his gaze carefully in order to get a better look at the person who had shot his second-in-command. The tall person held his weapon up for the other people to see while also pulling back his grass cover.

He committed every feature of that face to memory, imprinting it on his enraged psyche. He saw them group up and then circle about to celebrate their victories. Squatting over the body of his former second when they turned their backs, he realized that this was his last chance to go.

He emerged from the grass like one of the rifle shots and sprinted headlong for the tree line. The humans behind him were audibly cursing and shouting in shock as they realized their mistake. He was about to reach the top of the hill when he heard the piercing crack of a supersonic bullet passing by his head. As soon as he thought he was out of their line of sight, the second bullet struck its target, and a blazing searing pain erupted in his side.

The energy and the momentum of Damien's full-throttle run kept him moving forward over the top of the hill even though his left lung immediately filled with blood and he could not breathe. His lungs immediately began to bleed.

As he continued to run toward the trees while battling to keep upright, the blood in his lungs burst out of his nose. As he passed the first pine tree, another shot rang out, and the bark erupted in his face, blinding his right eye. He had absolutely no breath left, so instead of yelling out in agony, he continued running.

Damien ran for another minute before he was forced to slow his pace. The adrenaline had begun to fade, and the pain in his side increased. Coughing up a large gout of blood from his lung, he stopped. Looking back, he made sure the humans weren't going to try and come after him. Listening carefully for any sounds of running footsteps or worse, engines starting up, he tried to look back, but the blood in his right eye still hadn't cleared. Satisfied that he had no pursuers, he shifted his direction and headed for the creek that was about a mile away.

By the time he reached the creek, his whole body ached with fatigue. His left lung still wouldn't stop oozing blood and he had to constantly cough it up. He carefully lowered himself into the frigid water, welcoming the cold shock that suddenly flashed through his body. It helped to clear his mind, snapping him out of his more primal state of pain. Letting the cold water flush out his wounds, he realized that his right eye still didn't clear up.

Damien slowly turned his head to look at the wound in his side. He could see the shattered remnants of three ribs poking out of the gaping wound. The flesh and muscle shredded by the impact of a hollow point rifle bullet. Oh, this is bad, he thought to himself. No wonder he couldn't get his lungs clear of blood.

Slowly lowering his muzzle to the water, he began to drink as much as his empty stomach would hold. He knew he needed to replenish the fluids he was losing from his wounds. After filling his belly with the cold, clear water of the creek, he moved back to the bank and pulled himself out of the water. Looking back at the way he had come, he could see the blood trail he had left. He needed to get moving soon. Those cunning humans would follow this trail and find him. Turning back to the creek, knowing it was going to sap his strength quickly if he stayed in it too long; he began to walk up stream.

Damien walked about a half mile before getting out of the creek on the opposite side. He figured that the humans wouldn't want to cross this creek with the water temperature as low as it was, plus the distance he had traveled almost guaranteed they wouldn't find his trail. Still leaving a blood trail, he walked into the woods and headed for the Front Range.

He picked a valley between two peaks and used that for his reference point to keep from turning towards his wounded side and walking in circles. He really wanted to stop and rest, but he knew that he had to put as much distance between himself and those guns as possible. He quickly fell into a fugue state and just kept putting one paw in front of the other, staring at the valley.

When he finally made the valley late in the day, he knew that no one had followed him. The sounds of the forest were normal. He looked at the wound in his side and could still see blood oozing out of it, but the flow had slowed to a trickle. He hadn't had to cough as often, so he knew that his insides were starting heal. His right eye still didn't work and the pain from it was constant.