Fraser's Voices Read Online Free PDF Page B

deer.
    The smells were strong and exciting, and, after pausing for a moment to drink them in, he set off up the trail. He had not gone far when he was stopped by a new sound; a wild, unearthly cry from something higher up on the moor. The mink stiffened. The creature was down wind, so he got no whiff of its scent. By its call it was a predator like himself. If it was his size or smaller he would kill it. If it was larger he would still kill it. If it was so large as to be beyond his power he would find it easy to escape in this bristly country.
    But his own strong scent rode ahead of him on the light wind and told the other hunter that a rival was intruding on his territory. The other animal took up the challenge, bounded down the trail and then froze, crouched on stiff legs, back arched, tail lashing; the mink found himself face to face with Cruach, the wild cat.
    The two killers eyed each other.
    â€œGet off my ground,” spat the cat.
    â€œYour ground? You will have to prove that. I hunt where I please.” The mink’s jaws shut like a trap on the words.
    The cat hissed, “You’re a stranger here. You’ve no right on my ground. Get off it or prepare to pay the price.” His back was arching dangerously and, as he spoke, his lips curled back to show long, needle-like fangs bared back to the pink gums.
    More dangerous still, as he raised a front paw to strike, it was suddenly armed with five curved scimitars, unblunted by the wear and tear of walking and running, for the cat alone can sheath and unsheath his claws like a forest of swords.
    The mink was not intimidated.
    â€œI did not choose to live in your wretched land,” he replied. “My tribe comes from a better country far away, a country of rivers full of fish and woods full of game. But we were trapped and killed by man,” he went on savagely. “So I was born in a cage and lived in a cage till one day I saw the wire loose in the wood, and I tore it away, remembering that I am Kwarutta, the hunter, and no pretty flower to dress a painted lady.
    â€œAnd so I came here killing as I needed, killing as I wished. But most of all I kill to take my revenge on man and his slaves, his fat farmyard hens, his grouse on the moor, his cats and his dogs.” The voice had risen to a hissing scream, “and, one day, when they are unguarded, even his young. Then will I kill and kill and kill until at last the blood debt of my tribe has been repaid.”
    This kind of talk was new to the cat. He could appreciate a slow careful stalk through thick grass, the sudden explosive charge and the satisfaction of teeth meeting in the throat of a victim, but this single-minded vendetta against the whole human race sent shivers down his spine.
    â€œI have no liking for men,” he replied, “but I have nothing to do with your war. Fight it in the farmyards and the gardens, but keep off my ground.”
    Neither animal now wished matters to come to a clash of teeth and claws. Like boys in a school playground who have squared up to each other and each stood his ground, they now respected each other and wanted to withdraw with honour.
    â€œBetween two such hunters as ourselves let there be peace,” said Kwarutta. “I will hunt here no more. But when the gamekeeper has poisoned your litter and shot your mate for the sake of his grouse, join me one moonless night and together we will repay him in his henhouses.”
    He turned, and with the looping gait of his family, headed for the farms.

THE DAWN RAID
    Jim took the greatest pleasure in telling Fraser about the mysterious killings that had led to the great shoot-out in the wood which the mallard had described: more hens; a pet rabbit in a garden hutch; young, hand-reared partridges in a gamekeeper’s yard. Whoever it was, the killer seemed to take special pleasure in boldly entering sheds and coops and hutches close to human houses and killing, but rarely eating animals that