Blood Bounty: Chapter 2

    The next morning, Ursa awoke with a start.  The heavy sound of stomping pounded in the hall outside her room.  Through bleary eyes she saw that dawn light was barely trickling through the window and the room was empty.  She had dreamed the night before that Bear had snuck into her bed and they had played the way they had so long ago.  But Ursa found it painfully obvious it was all a false hope as she wrapped a thick shawl around her nightgown and rushed barefoot out of the room.
    She found the Sikh waiting impatiently in the hall, trying to see over the railing to the main hall below.  It seemed the whole town along with every inn guest was trying to clamber into the small area.  Ursa found the stairs pact with a mass of people unable to move further down.  Sighing angrily, she grabbed a support beam and hopped onto the stair rail balancing her way down and not caring that half the men could see up her bare legs.
    Hearing the Sikh’s heavy footsteps behind her, she began pushing people out of her way toward the center of the commotion.  As she drew closer, over the clamor of guttural German and murmured awe, Ursa could hear Bear’s voice.  She followed it until she found her way out of the crowd and into a cleared circle where Bear stood over a wrapped, bloody canvas, wiping his dagger on a clean spot in the fabric.
    “What is this,” she asked, bending down to look.  Before she could touch the canvas, Bear grabbed her wrist to stop her.
    “You don’t want to see this,” he warned sternly.
    Pulling her hand away she scowled at him, reaching out and pulling the canvas over.  A gasp went up through the crowd.  A weak stomached boy vomited on the floor; a woman near the front shrieked and fainted.  A naked man, covered in his own blood from a gaping wound in his neck, lay in the canvas.  The stench was almost unbearable, along with the sight of his horribly distorted face, as if some twisted sculptor had merged the image of man and wolf into one terrible image.
    “He was a werewolf, Fräulein,” an older man said above her head.  “We did not care when he ate a sheep or pig.  But when he dined on one of the town’s children, we had to stop him.”
    Ursa looked up just in time to see the man hand Bear a small sack, no doubt filled with the bounty hunter’s pay.  Her eyes turned to Bear, who gave her a concerned look.  Taking another look at the dead creature, she licked her lips and sighed.
    “Well, it looks like breakfast is out of the question,” Ursa remarked, standing and moving back toward the stairs.
    This time, everyone cleared her path as she went to her room.  Once inside, she leaned against the door and let out a soft cry.  It had been so long since she had seen a creature like that.  The last time she had been confronted with a werewolf, Bear had dispatched it in the same fashion to save her life.  Only that one had turned out to be her childhood friend, the same friend she had shared her entire world with since they could speak.  Ursa remembered how she had wept for hours; Bear’s arms wrapped around her, comforting her, something so uncommon to his character.
    Closing her eyes, she pushed away from the door and took a deep breath.  She would not be running into his arms this time, she had done much growing and steeling of herself over the years since last they parted.  All upsetting memories were banished from her thoughts as she walked over to the table and began to ready her things for their departure.

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    Bear was saddling his stallion when Ursa came out to the stables.  She was silent as he watched her move about, preparing her dappled gelding for the trip to the Embassy. 
    “Are you alright,” he finally asked when he could no longer stand the unnerving quiet.
    Ursa patted her horse’s snout gently and gave Bear a soft look.  “I’m fine, truly.  But you were right, you shouldn’t have looked.”
    He walked over to her and smoothed back some of her hair, letting his fingers linger on her cheek.  “You took it better than I thought you would.”
    “Better,” she said bitterly, moving away from his touch.  “If by that you mean I didn’t cry like a child as I did last time, then you’re spot on.”
    Stunned at her outburst, Bear replied “Ursa, you know I didn’t mean…”
    His hand reached for her shoulder, but the second his fingers touched her cloak she turned her horrible glare on him.  Despite all the evil men and monsters he had seen in his many travels, that one look from her still managed to send a shiver down his spine.  His fingers shot back from her as he scowled, watching her mount the gelding by swinging her leg over its back.
    “You never were one for sidesaddle or anything else ladylike,” he remarked heatedly.  “Damn you woman, but you’ve spent too much time in the company of men like me.  There’s not a bit of softness left in you.”
    She made a sound then, as he turned away from her and immediately he regretted his words.  He knew from experience that if he turned around she would start crying.  But before he had a chance, Ursa spurred her horse and flew out of the stables, leaving a cloud of hay and dust billowing around Bear.  He stepped outside to watch her galloping away just as the Sikh came running up.
    “No need to hurry,” Bear told the man.  “She just needed to ride alone for a bit.  We’ll catch up with her in no time.”
    The Sikh nodded, and Bear had the distinct impression that the bodyguard knew just how impossible a woman Ursa could be.  The two men took their time in preparing the horses before mounting up and following Ursa’s trail.

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    It was nearly dusk when the two men rode up on Ursa laying quietly beneath a tree near the edge of the forest.  Bear never thought she would have ridden so far so fast; it was dangerous for a woman to be alone.  Then again, he realized as he dismounted and one of Ursa’s daggers barely missed his shoulder, she was a rather capable woman.
    “You missed, Ursa dearest,” he said quietly, pulling her knife out of a tree behind him and taking it over to her.
    “The failing light,” she responded flippantly, standing up and leaning against the trunk of an old pine.
    Bear nodded and looked her over.  The black leather padding she wore was scuffed and muddy and her hair disheveled with bits of grass and leaves stuck to her cloak.  Though her form was earthy and beautiful, the stern set of her face made him cringe.
    “It’s getting late, I think we should set up camp here,” he said loud enough for the Sikh to hear as well.
    With that, he started unloading his horse, pulling out his pack and trying to find a decent spot to sleep on.  Ursa disappeared into the woods much to Bear’s annoyance.  She never told anyone where she was going or why.  It was almost insufferable.  But Bear knew better than to say anything about it any more.  It would only lead to more fighting, something he did not feel like going through at the moment.
    A while later, Ursa emerged carrying enough firewood to last them through the night.  The Sikh took the load from her and began the fire as Bear shook his head and watched her pull her sleeping gear out.  She said nothing and turned her back on the two men to look at the setting sun.  No one said a word as the sky grew darker and the moon rose, still full and casting its bluish light over everything.
    “Get closer to the fire Ursa,” Bear finally remarked when he saw her start to shiver in her bedding.
    She ignored him, pulling her blanket further up her arm and staring at the fire.  With an annoyed grunt, he threw his own covers back and stood.  Ursa watched him almost in fear as he walked over to her and lifted her off the ground with little effort.
    “Put me down, you bastard,” she yelled twisting and squirming in his arms.  “Or so help me I’ll punch you anywhere I can!”
    Bear knew very well that she was serious about harming him, and despite her smaller size she hit harder than one would expect.  To avoid any substantial damage, he hoisted her over his shoulder, letting her fists beat against his back as she continued to writhe against him.
    “If you won’t listen to me and keep yourself warm, then I’ll keep you warm,” he said gruffly, carrying her back toward his makeshift bed.
    The Sikh’s eyes opened momentarily to the sounds of Bear and Ursa’s shouting.  With a disapproving grunt, he rolled over and fell back to sleep.
    When Bear finally reached his blankets he dropped Ursa on the ground.  She let out a short cry of pain and surprise as Bear kneeled on the blankets beside her.  With a deep growl, she tried to crawl away from him, but he pulled her back, pinning her to the ground beneath him.
    “Let me go,” she growled again, pushing against him and nearly flipping him off of her.  But he was heavier than she was and put the rest of his weight into holding her down.
    “I will not let you go,” he growled back.  “You are headstrong and foolish when you’re angry, just as you’ve always been. Now stop fighting me and see reason.  My blankets are better suited to the weather here in winter, not to mention the fact that I’m much better at choosing places to sleep.  You will sleep in these blankets with me and you will stop trying to get away.”
    Ursa took a deep breath as she looked up at his stern face.  She nodded in agreement and relaxed her muscles that strained against him.  Bear slowly let her go and watched as she laid there stoically.  Assured that she would remain where she was, he lifted the covers and slid in between them.  However, in that second Ursa tried to scrabble to her feet to get away. Bear grabbed her around the waist and pulled her firmly back against his chest.
    “I guess reason evades you tonight,” he sighed disappointedly against her ear as he pulled the blankets over them both.
    “As though you have room to speak of reason,” she huffed.  “Pulling a woman out of her bedding and expecting her not to fight you every second.”
    Yet Ursa shivered as she felt Bear’s breath across her neck and his strong familiar fingers moved down her waist and over hips to caress her thigh through fabric.  “There is no need to be bashful or seemly with me.  You must have forgotten, my sweetest love, we’ve shared a bed before.”
    “Precisely the reason why I should keep my distance,” she retorted hotly, then added much more softly, “We both know how poorly that affair ended.”
    “You ended that affair Ursa,” he said, and she imagined she could hear sadness in his voice.  “If it had been my choosing, I would be calling you wife this very moment and lying in my arms would not seem like such a chore.”
    Bear could hear her teeth grind and feel her shift against him uncomfortably.  With a sigh, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her even closer, fitting her body to his own.  “Just sleep now Ursa.  There’s no sense in us quarreling all night.”
    She nodded and closed her eyes, letting her fingers slide across the skin of his forearm, remembering how good it felt when they would lay like that in the past.  Ursa fell asleep with the soothing scent of her old hero filling her nostrils.

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    A howl echoed through the woods waking Bear from his light sleep.  Opening his eyes slowly, he saw through the low burning fire that the Sikh had awoken as well.  As Bear moved to get up he realized Ursa was still lying beside him.  She stirred a bit before a second howl arose, this one closer and deeper in pitch.  In an instant she was up on her feet, brandishing her dagger defensively.
    “The rest of the pack,” Bear grumbled angrily.  “I thought sure we would be out of their territory by now.”
    “They are animals with the cunning of men,” Ursa replied, hearing another howl even closer this time.  “It stands to reason they may hunt down those who killed a pack mate.”
    She turned just in time to see red eyes peaking at them from the forest.  The horses whinnied nervously and fidgeted against their tied leads.
    “They’re surrounding us,” Bear noted quietly as he backed up to Ursa.  “I would tell you to stay behind me, but I trust it would fall on deaf ears.”
    Ursa gritted her teeth as a rustle was heard just to her right.  “You’re damned right.”
    Her gelding was dancing about and rearing, smelling the wolf-creatures that planned an attack.  Ursa turned in her horse’s direction, hearing more movement near where she and Bear stood across the fire from the Sikh.  With a deep breath, she lunged for the horse, reaching it just as one of the beasts crashed through the underbrush and into the clearing.  It made to attack Ursa, but Bear threw his dagger, hitting the beast between the shoulder blades.  It howled horribly yet barely slowed.
    “Ursa run,” Bear shouted as two more creatures barged into the campsite. 
            One lunged at the Sikh, whose blade was out in an instant, severing the wolf’s head.  The other circled Bear near the fire, snarling as Bear’s other dagger reflected the flames.  The stabbed wolf still stalked Ursa as she hid behind her frightened horse, buying time to pull the rifle out of her pack and load it.  The final click of the barrel falling into place had the beast sinking its flesh into the gelding’s flanks, causing the poor thing to rear in pain.  Ursa took quick aim and fired, shooting the wolf in the side of the head.  It fell dead, bleeding onto the cold ground.  Ursa barely got out from underneath her horse as it came crashing down.
            Looking up, she saw that Bear and the Sikh had dispatched their two adversaries as well.  Bear came over to her and helped her to her feet, giving her a look over.  “Are you alright? You haven’t been bitten or scratched?”
            “No, I’m fine, Bear,” she replied, then winced when his hand pressed into ther right shoulder.
            With a bit of concern, he ripped the fabric of her shirt to get a better look at the area.  The skin was already turning dark purple and black and was very tender.  A bruise no doubt from the rifle’s recoil.
            “Only a bruise,” he said reassuringly.  “It looks as though it will heal in a few days time.”
            He started to back away, only to see Ursa giving a playful smile.  “Tell me, will it be werewolves every night with you this time?”
            “No, my sweet,” Bear chuckled, brushing his fingers across her cheek.  “Only when the moon is full.  Every other night belongs to the rest.”