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This is a work of fiction. The characters and story are the sole property of Radical Gopher and should not be copied or used without the express permission of the author. This story contains adult themes and situations and should not be viewed by anyone under the age of eighteen.

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A DISTANT SHORE: THE HIDEOUT

Marshall White Cloud brushed weakly at his cheek, trying to rid himself of the annoying tickle that threatened to ruin his sleep. When it moved up to his ear, however, he practically exploded out of the sleeping skins. Snowbird, who was still lying atop him, yipped in surprise as she rolled off and landed on her tail. Leaping to her feet, she stood back to back with the Marshall. Both had their fighting knives at the ready. A dawn breeze ruffled the fur of the two naked figures as they search for any sign of what had disturbed them. A small croaking squeak drew their attention. There sitting on a nearby rock was a young wyvern, its red and gold scales glinting as the sun crept above the horizon.

Gabriel glanced at the white furred vixen and smiled. "Looks like your egg finally hatched."

Snowbird bent over and quickly searched through one of her haversacks. From it she pulled out several pieces of dried buffalo meat which she handed to the Marshall. "Feed it."

"What... me? I thought this was your egg.?"

"It needs to be fed, quickly, or it will fly away in search of its own food."

"Well, if it want to fly away then let it. What could be more natural than a wyvern in the wild?"

She shook her head. "It's too young to survive for long. You have to feed it because it's already imprinted to you. You're its... mother."

"Me? Aw hell no!" She firmly pushed the reluctant gray wolf forward towards the rock."

"Just do it!"

Grumbling, White Cloud tentatively approached the small creature with clung to the rock with four, spindly sets of claws. He guessed its wingspan was close to that of a hawk, except the wings were bat-like and its body resembled a cross between a gecko and a horned lizard. Taking a small piece of meat Gabriel held it out to the wyvern. The creature hesitantly sniffed at the proffered food, then sniffed at the Marshall. For a moment the wolf thought it was going to take a bite out of his finger. Instead it lunged at the meat, snapping it up rapaciously.

"Do you see?" the vixen said. "It trusts you."

"So how come I get to be the mother?"

Snowbird pointed to the haversack which had fallen over on its side. Pieces of egg shell littered the ground next to it.. "When it hatched, it crawled over to the first warm body it sensed, you.

"Wonderful," the Marshall sighed. "You're the one who saved it from the rock hound. Why couldn't it imprint on you? Weren't you attuned to its spirit?"

"Spirit is a pattern," she explained, "an aura created by life and attuned to the world. Imprinting is an instinct based on what you feel, or see, or scent, so it couldn't imprint until it had access to those senses. You were lucky to be in the right place at the right time."

"So why don't I feel lucky?" Gabe replied as he continued feeding the wyvern.

"Perhaps because you look at it in the wrong way. Instead of thinking of this as an unplanned obligation, think of it as a gift from the Earth Spirit."

White Cloud nodded silently to himself. The native in him knew she was right. Few wild creatures attached themselves so willingly to anyone other than their own kin. That a wyvern of all things had chosen him was a minor miracle. This however didn't quite settle things for the civilized fur within him. He scowled at how it would complicate his life. Though respected by many furs, his mixed heritage often created a bit of a stir whenever he went into town. Many found it difficult to accept the idea of a half-breed Marshall. What it would be like partnered with a wyvern that thought he was its mother was more than he cared to imagine.

The little creature quickly finished off his meal. Chittering happily, it launched itself from the rock landing firmly on White Cloud's shoulder. Its claws, though too small and flexible to break the skin were still sharp. The wolf resisted the temptation to slap at it, gritting his teeth instead. He pointed to a pile of clothing on the ground.

"SHIRT... SHIRT!" The vixen tossed him the shirt he'd been wearing for the last few days. He folded it loosely and set it on the rock. Untangling the wyvern from his shoulder he placed it on the shirt. The creature sniffed at it a few times, then happily curled up and went to sleep. Looking over at Snowbird he caught her trying to stifle a laugh. He wrinkled his nose at her in mock annoyance.

The two furs pulled on their clothes and started to break camp. They only paused long enough to swallow a few bites of dried meat and a couple of acorn cakes. Gabriel took out the hand drawn map and studied it briefly. "If this thing's right, we should be no more than five miles from where Temple and his gang are hold up."

"Just beyond these hills?" Snowbird asked. The Marshall nodded. They set off, the wyvern sound asleep, nestled into Gabe's shirt atop the cargo pack rig.

Three hours later the two furs were tracking along the edge of a rather sizable creek. The wolf held up a hand and silently dismounted then climbed a small hill, all the while sniffing the air and listening to the world around him. Edging himself up to the crest, he peeked over. There it was, the skinners cabin. It was tucked neatly into the side of a hill, allowing access only from two directions, both of which followed the creek. Attached to it was a corral with six horses inside.

As he watched a figure exited the cabin, walked to the creek and filled a couple of buckets of water. Staggering under the weight, the ragged looking coyote made his way to the horse trough and emptied the buckets into it. He repeated the trip four more times, then hung the buckets on a fence post and ambled back into the cabin. The Marshall nodded to himself. That would have to be one of the Pyre brothers, either Ambrose or Abner. Probably it was the latter, since his older brother tended to bully him into doing any work that needed doing.

The cabin itself was more of a dugout made of sod, not wood. It lacked windows save for one in the door, which was the only visible exit. A small, metal stovepipe jutted up through the roof. From it trailed a thin, white stream of smoke. Nestled as it was against the hill, Gabriel wondered if the structure had built around a notch in the hillside or a cave entrance. If it were the latter then he had a bigger problem. There'd be no telling if such a cave might have other exits.

He felt someone next to him and looked over to see Snowbird. She handed him the small pair of field glasses he'd left hanging from his saddle horn. "I thought you might want these." Nodding his thanks, he carefully lifted them to his eyes, shielding one end with his hand to keep the sun from reflecting off them.

The door opened a second time and two more furs appeared, each carrying a hunting rifle and a large pack. One was the same coyote who'd just watered the horses. With his field glasses he could clearly see it was indeed Abner, The other was a tall, heavy-set bear with brown fur. The Marshal recognized him easily, Luc Montrose. He'd arrested the fur three years earlier for bank robbery, but Luc had escaped his guards while being taken to the territorial prison.

After a brief discussion and some random pointing, the two selected one of the horses, strapped their packs to it and headed upstream, leading their mount away from the Marshall's position. It looked to Gabe that they were out hunting. They disappeared from sight within a few minutes. The Marshall focused once more on the cabin.

"What do you plan to do?" Snowbird whispered.

He nodded toward the structure. "If I'm guessing right, then Luc and Abner will probably be gone until well into tomorrow. That gives me a chance to sneak down there just before dawn and flush what's left of the gang out in the open. If I wait until just before dawn I'll catch them with their pants down. I can handle three on one, if I get the drop on 'em."

"Do you plan on killing them?" she asked. Gabe couldn't miss the tone of disapproval in the vixen's voice. He shook his head.

"Not if they don't put up a fight," he said. "Temple might, but only if he thinks he's got the advantage. I know the other two, they're followers. They won't act without his say so."

"It's dangerous," the vixen said simply.

Gabe nodded. "So's hunting oraac, but if you know what you're doing, you can cut down on the risk."

Snowbird remained outwardly stoic. All the same she still felt a little icy knot form in the pit of her stomach. She looked at the Marshall, trying to draw strength from his quiet confidence. "How are you going to flush them out of the cabin?"

He pointed in the direction of the smoke pipe. "I'll plug their chimney with a piece of sod. Then take 'em from the side when they come out the door."

"What do you want me to do."

Gabe hesitated a moment, reluctant to put the vixen's life in danger. Looking into her eyes, however, he could see she would not be satisfied with sitting safe somewhere out of danger. The Marshall scanned the terrain, then spotted a small rocky outcropping about fifty yards from the cabin on the opposite shore of the creek. "How good are you with that bow of yours?"

"Good enough," she replied,

He pointed across the stream. "An hour before sunrise, I want you to take up position behind those rocks. I'll take them from the far side of the door. That will give you a clear view of what happens and a clean shot, in case they decide to put up a fight. We should have a quarter-moon before just before dawn."

Snowbird nodded and looked up toward the sun. "We have much to prepare before we sleep."

"Yep!" the Marshall agreed, taking one last look through his field glasses. "No reason I can see for them to stir from the cabin, so let's get done what needs doing." Both he and the native vixen slid carefully down the hill. They spent the rest of the day fixing gear and preparing to take the Temple gang. The only interruption came when the wyvern awoke about mid-afternoon and began chirring for its next meal.

Gabe paused in his preparations long enough to cut up some more strips of jerky. These he fed to the creature a piece at a time. Halfway through the feeding he gestured for Snowbird to join him, He slipped a few pieces of meat into the palm of her hand. She looked at him questioningly.

"I think it'd be a good idea if you and he got to be friends, seeing as we're in the same posse." The vixen smiled with approval and slowly held up a piece of jerky for the wyvern. It looked at her suspiciously, sniffed her hand and hissed, barring its tiny teeth. She carefully pulled her hand back and looked over at the Marshall.

"I don't think he approves."

Gabe took out a handkerchief and dropped his share of the jerky into it and motioned for Snowbird to do the same. "Use some of our water to wash your hands."

"Why?"

"I'll show you in a moment." The vixen did as instructed while the wolf ran his hands along his neck and through his cheek ruffs. He took off his neckerchief and handed it to the native girl. "Now dry them with this." She did, then looked on curiously as he took her hands in his and rubbed them with his own, first one, then the other, front and back.

Picking up the jerky, he took out a small piece and fed it to the wyvern, letting it sniff at his hand first. He did it twice more, then held a piece in front of the creature, Instead of feeding it however, he passed the piece of meat over to the vixen. Golden orbed eyes watched the transfer hungrily. Gabe nodded and Snowbird carefully reached forward with the food. The wyvern sniffed, hesitated, then quickly snapped up the piece of jerky. They took turns feeding the little beast until it yawned and curled up once more on the Marshall's shirt.

Snowbird smiled warmly at Gabriel. "Clever. I knew you could still hear the voice of Nokomis, the earth mother. You are not so civilized as to be deaf."

"It was just a bit of common sense," the wolf replied, embarrassed by the unsought praise.

"Such wisdom is never common to those who have a heart to hear with."

Gabe returned the smile, then went back to his work, cleaning and reloading his pistols. He took out several pairs of handcuffs and checked them to make sure the hinges and pins were tight and would lock properly. He showed them to Snowbird, explaining how they worked in case he needed her help in securing the prisoners.

Turning back to her own work, Gabe noticed she was sewing several thick pieces of buckskin together. "What's that?" he asked.

Instead of replying, she simply draped the material across his left shoulder, measuring and adjusting it as necessary. He remembered seeing something similar during his youth as a member of the Green Willow tribe. Hunters who worked with trained falcons use them as a perch for their birds.

"Oh no! No you don't! You're not going to catch me walking around town with that thing hanging on my shoulder," he said, pointing to the wyvern. Snowbird merely smiled, retrieved the deerskin and resumed working on it. Gabe turned back to his own tasks, muttering under his breath.

Near sundown the Marshall worked his way back up to the top of the hill and took another look at the cabin. Nothing had changed save for the pile of firewood, which had shrunk slightly. A slight breeze had kicked up, blowing from the direction of the cabin. Sniffing, the wolf could make out four distinct scents in addition to the horses. Luc and Abner were still out hunting and by now would have set up camp for the night.

Gabe returned to his own camp to discover that Snowbird had opened a can of beans and one of pears. He thanked her and the two ate the cold meal in silence. A campfire this close to the cabin would be asking for trouble. On cue, the wyvern again woke up and the two furs took turns feeding it By now it was more than willing to accept food from the vixen. Gabe wondered; if the creature thought of him as its mother, did that make the native girl its father? He chuckled lightly at the thought.

Once fed, the wyvern again went to sleep. It's claws were definitely hardening and he began to rethink the perch Snowbird had made him. He cleaned the dishes and put them away. The native girl had once again made up a single bed for the two of them. Stripping down to their bare fur, they climbed between the blankets. Instead of making love however, the wolf and vixen simply cuddled together sharing the warmth of each other's body in place of a campfire. They both drifted off to sleep, holding each other close.

Halfway through the night something woke the Marshall. He looked down. Snowbird had buried her head in his chest and she was shivering despite the warmth of the blankets. He could feel the damp tickle of her tears as they flowed across his fur, yet she was still asleep. Unsure as to why she was crying, he reached up and began stroking the back of her head and tenderly massaging her neck. She cried silently in her sleep for about half an hour, then pulled herself in tightly against the wolf and stopped shaking. It almost felt as if she were trying to crawl into his skin. Her breathing became deep and regular once more.

Gabriel continued to stroke her head and neck throughout the rest of the night, unable to sleep himself, wondering what dream it was that had so disturbed the vixen's slumber.

TO BE CONTINUED...