This Fallen Prey (Rockton 3)

The problem is that Dalton didn't stay a boy. He grew into a man who sees Cypher's shortcomings. Who realizes Cypher was more feared than respected and that maybe he enjoyed meting out his creative punishments a little too much.

But the die had been cast. Dalton still subconsciously emulates his first role model.

We're nearing Jacob's camp.

"He should be here," Cypher says. "When I talked to him yesterday, he said he wanted to finish butchering the caribou. If he's gone, he won't be far."

"Jake!" Cypher booms. "Yo, Jakey!"

There's a sound from up ahead, and through the trees I make out the side of a hide tent. Another sound comes, a grunt, and Dalton's arm shoots up to stop me.

Cypher swears under his breath. Storm catches a smell in the air, and her fur rises as I grab for her collar. Dalton pulls back a branch.

"And that, kitten, is a bear," Cypher whispers.

It is indeed, and it's right there, next to Jacob's tent, ripping through a pack on the ground. It's not a grizzly, which is some relief. It's a big black, though. A boar in his prime, maybe three hundred pounds. When he stands to sniff the air, he stretches to my height.

I cast a quick look around the camp. There's no sign of J

acob, and I exhale. While black bears aren't nearly as dangerous as browns, they can kill if provoked. Jacob knows better than to provoke one. Cypher on the other hand . . .

"You got a clear shot at it, kitten?" he asks.

"Only if it attacks," I say.

"If you've got a clear shot, take it."

"No," Dalton says. "She won't. We can't skin it here, so we're not taking it down unless we have to."

"Fuck, don't tell me you're one of those. Doesn't like killing things unless they need killing."

"Weird, I know," I say.

"Life's a whole lot less dangerous if you just take out everything in your path. Kill or be killed. It's the way of the jungle."

"We're not in the jungle," Dalton says. "This is boreal forest."

"Stop reading, okay? Just stop." Cypher sighs. "Fine, so how you want to do this, nature boy? Ask the bear if we may approach?"

"We're going to spook it. Casey can cover--"

Storm growls.

"I think your pup wants in on the fun," Cypher says.

Storm growls louder. She's straining at my grip, every hair on her body raised, head lowered. The bear rears up again and looks our way.

"Fuck," Cypher says. "Can we shoot it now?"

"Well, that depends," Dalton says. "Unless you've actually learned to aim a gun, you'd have to hold the dog while Casey shoots. And pray that Casey's nine-mil will take the bear down in one shot from this distance."

"You've got a three-fifty-seven."

"I'm left-handed."

Cypher glances at the sling on Dalton's left arm. "Can't just be right-handed like normal people. Fucking inconvenient, you are."

"Eric?" I say. "As fun as this debate is, I'm going to back Storm up before that bear decides to charge. Ty, take my gun. Eric, if you need to shoot, even with your right, you'll probably do better than him."