"Merida, I don't think this is a good idea," Flynn called out from the ground, picking his way over twisted metal fragments on the ground.
"Of course it is," she called down to him, her bow at the ready. "We need food, right? Where better than this wreck of a town?" A sharp movement caught her eye. Quickly pivoting towards it, she kept watch. There it was again. A flash of moving metal to her left.
She whistled, low and steady, and aimed her arrow. Flynn caught the sound and froze, eyes sweeping, hand at his sword.
A bear came rambling out from behind a dilapidated house. Merida didn't move, but kept her aim still, waiting for the right moment. It meandered 150 yards or so from her stand, coming in direct view of both her and Flynn. Taking a deep breath, she released the arrow and watched it embed in the thick hide.
The beast cried out, and for a moment she remembered her past with bears. But the present quickly caught up to her, forcing her to move, to grab another fletching and let it fly. Food was scarce. There wasn't room for feelings. This time the bear fell, dead.
She climbed down from the top of the building, gaze never leaving the heap of black fur.
"Nice shot. We might even be able to save the first one. Plenty of meat on that puppy to last us-" he stopped and looked at her. "Were you crying?"
"Back off." Merida pushed him away as she kept walking towards the carcass.
"Hey," he called out, "Is it something I said? We already established this. When something upsets one of us, we tell the other. What was it?"
"Back OFF!" she whirled around and pulled out her small knife, and leveling it at his heart. Flynn took a step back, putting his hands up. "Stop acting acting like there is something between us. I barely managed to get out of an arranged marriage. I don't want romance! You had a wife! This is survival. If you want to survive, you need to learn when to shut up."
He didn't say anything, just took a few steps forward and waited for her. She shouldered her bow and walked past him with her chin held high. She kept the knife out, but it hung limply by her side.
When they got to the dead bear, she knelt and checked its eyes. Glazed and lifeless. Breathing a sigh of relief, she took the knife and started carving through the skin, gutting it quickly and effectively like so many times before. When she found the second arrow pierced through the heart, she smiled slightly and yanked the broken bits out. It was a painless death. The first arrow, as Flynn pointed out, was savable. She wiped it on a bit of dried grass and stuck it back in her quiver.
"Do you have your bag?" she turned to Flynn. He nodded and unslung it from his back. Made from various clothes they found and melted plastic bags, if was fairly waterproof, with a hole in the corner to drain the blood off. It was capable of holding the meat of a full deer, but some of the bear would have to stay.
Merida flicked an orange braid over her shoulder. She didn't want her hair in the way during the messy part. He took the hint and pulled out his own knife. They worked together in quiet, carving out meat and a bone or two to put in the bag. When they finished, they both were covered in dried blood. The bag was heavy and full, bursting at the seams, and the only parts of the bear left were the head, feet, and ribs.
Flynn took it and started heading back to their camp.
"Coming?" He called after her.
"Give me a minute. I want to find some bits for arrows. I'll catch up."
"Be back before sundown."
"This is what I mean! I am not two, I don't need to be told what to do! So for the last time, BACK OFF!" She lashed out, yelling for the world to hear.
He was out of sight before she looked back again.
Merida salvaged the wreckage for thin pieces of wood and sharp metal tips. Once, she was extremely lucky enough to find a collapsed gun store, wear she found professional grade arrows already made and barely damaged. Once again, she wondered how in the world Flynn managed to find himself a sword, as it clearly wasn't the medieval times and most places had already been destroyed completely in the impact. He never told her, and she never liked to pry.
She was able to find a few parts of thin dowel rods from a hardware store type building, and had to break the glass front to get in, but it had been worth it. She also stumbled upon obsidian spearheads, most likely used by some ancient Native tribes. If she knew what she would find, she would have come to this town a lot sooner, despite any dangers.
She started walking back, following the blood trail out of the abandoned city. As she got further into the woods, her mind relaxed and the normal sounds flooded her ears. She whistled to the chickadees and cardinals as the sun started to set. No squirrels chattered like they used to, and she didn't spook any deer, but it was the same woods that she felt was home.
Eventually the droplets diminished and the sun died until just a few last orange rays got through the trees. Merida started walking out of instinct, hoping that the meat would be cooking over the fire and the patch sleeping bags would be warm.
As the night grew darker however, she began to doubt her way. Surely Flynn would have the fire roaring, and yet, there wasn't any flame or smoke in sight. She kept walking, calling out, but no response. She felt for sure that she was discretely walking in circles--wasn't there a Mythbusters on that from ages ago?-- when she spotted a weak flicker of fire in the distance. She called for Flynn, but he didn't respond.
Worried now, she started running towards the camp. Coming into the clearing, she realized something was not right. The pan had been knocked over, and a puddle of blood, too much for the bear meat, was on the outer edge of the circle. The tarps had long, thin scratches, and the bag of meat was gone. The only thing she found was a lump cowering beneath blankets in the tents.
"Come here, boy," she called softly. A grey head drooped out and starting walking towards her. A grey and white mange that had followed them everywhere, Flynn had insisted on calling him Tramp. They learned that in exchange for bones and a warm place to sleep, Tramp would bring them rabbits from time to time and a constant companionship.
"What happened here?" she cried when she saw the claw and bite marks on his side. Clearly he hadn't gone down without a fight. Tramp whimpered and rolled unto his back, exposing more bite marks like Merida had never seen before. Bite marks like wolves, but scratches like bears...She started to get a bad feeling in her gut.
"Tramp, where's Flynn?" His ears perked up, but he didn't move. "Tramp, we need to find Flynn. Go search!" She had done this only once before, with a fallen deer, but it had been mere yards away from where she'd been standing. She had no idea whether the dog could actually find him. "Come on Tramp!" she nudged him with her foot. He stood up and slowly walked past the pool of blood. She started to follow, but quickly turned around to grab a small bag tucked in-between the high branch of a tree. A peak inside the satchel told her what she needed. The Aspirin and Ibuprofen were safe inside their bottles.
Merida ran to catch up to the dog, who sniffed slowly and cautiously across the ground. After she caught up, she found him going too slow. "Hurry. Yes, good boy, hurry!" His tail wagged as he started picking up a scent. Soon they were jogging through the underbrush, with Tramp zigging and zagging in front.
As they went further and further, Tramp started to get less and less excited. Eventually, he careened to a stop and looked at her, whining. "It's okay," she told him, "We're close!" It didn't help ease the dog's sudden nervousness. That was when Merida noticed the paw mark on the ground.
Distinctly wolf-like, they were far bigger than any wolf paws could have been. The claw marks were wickedly long, about the size of her longest finger. She fell silent as a shout of pain rang out, then softer, laced crying touched her ears.
"Flynn?" the crying stopped.
"Flynn!"
"Here!" a very faint reply sounded back. Merida rushed towards the voice, trudging over logs and trees, matched step for step by Tramp. It took her a minute to find him, sprawled on the ground. He looked at her sheepishly.
"I tripped and, with this-" he held up his arm. It was covered in ripped teeth marks, again like a wolfs but much to big. "I couldn't get up again. "
"What attacked you? It looks like a giant wolf but-"
"It was a pack of mutants like you've never seen before. They looked like wolf-bears, and they were huge, all thirty of them! They must have followed us from the city-I knew we shouldn't have gone there!- and attacked me when I got to camp to steal the bear meat. I, of course, fought them gallantly off, and chased them down to vengeance. On my way back, I tripped and fell."
"Yeah, now tell the real story. You got attacked by ten of them, escaped up a tree or something, then tried to follow them and take back your dignity, only to get hopelessly lost and trip over this log."
He groaned, which was how Merida knew she got it right.
"I was close. So close to the wolf den."
"Sure you were." She taunted.
"Merida, hush!"
"What?"
"Get down! Now!"
She hit the ground, flattening herself as close as possible.
"What?" she asked after an uneventful few seconds. She stilled as Tramp started growling, low in his throat. His head whipped around, and his hackles rose.
"Flynn..." she whispered quietly, realizing what was happening.
"What...!"
"Just how many of those wolf-bears were there?"
"Five or so... One was wounded though."
"I can hear them howling, so they can certainly hear or smell us. Can you run?" She clutched her knife closer and shifted to face him. Her unruly hair covered part of her eyes, but she didn't waste time tucking it back into the braid.
"No." She watched him wince. "They got my leg too." He looked ashamed. "I didn't trip. I fell. I should have told you earlier, but it just made me seem so...helpless. Like I couldn't do anything."
"I'm so sorry." she whispered. She knew what he was going to do. She didn't try to fight it. Merida knew it was hopeless. They couldn't walk, not in his condition, they stood absolutely no chance in fighting the wolf-bears off.
"I'll climb a tree. Maybe I can pick a few off. Give you a fighting chance. Who knows, we might get lucky."
Flynn didn't argue, just nodded and propped himself up using a log. Hesitating, she handed him a knife before scrambling up a big, strong oak tree. She pulled out her bow and notched an arrow. She was fighting for lives now more than ever. She had to be ready.
It took less than five minutes for the first beast to come, weaving through the tall grasses, closer and closer. She trained the sights to where she thought the beast would step out, waiting for the head to appear.
It launched itself at Flynn, and the arrow met it straight in the eyes, dropping it dead with a yelp. It was a hideous beast, at least to her waist, had she been standing. Very distinctly wolf, but part bear too, it was stocky and strong, with thick muscles and a bear-like face. Merida didn't bother to celebrate. There were already more coming, egged on by the scent of fresh blood. Tramp started at one, running through the grass. He was thrown aside quickly, and didn't get up.
Four others appeared, each circling him and yipping at each other in low voices. She watched as one got closer and dared to try and nip him. She let loose another arrow but missed, sinking into the creature's haunches. None of the other animals stayed back, each straying closer than the last. Flynn let loose the dagger, killing another but losing it in the process, leaving him undefended. One bit him and a hallowing cry rang out. She shot arrow after arrow into the hides of the pack, but almost all missed, and only one actually killed.
Two wolves remained, and she had two arrows left. Merida knew her chances of killing both in two shots were slim. She sent both arrows into one, managing to get it to the ground, almost dead. She swung down from the tree, scratching her side in the process. She didn't care. She grabbed her last weapon - a fist-sized knife from her pant pocket. With a cry, she launched herself at the monstrosity and stabbed it in the gut. It snarled and turned, slicing at her face and raking its claws against her skin, but it was too late. It was dying.
Tears blurring her vision, Merida turned to Flynn.
"You're okay." but it was more of a question than a statement. He never answered. She focused, and saw for the first time, the blood.
"No, Flynn. Here-" she said, picking up the fallen medicine pack. "Take some, you'll be okay. Please, you have to live!"
"No." He pushed it away weakly. "I need to see my Rapunzel again. You might need it later. You were right. This isn't some romance. This is survival. And you've survived. "