“What do you think is going on?,” asked the elder.

“I think your cat is waiting in the trees,” said Pitt. “If I'm right, it's waiting for one of us to get close so it can chase us. It's a classic ambush tactic. If we run, it'll try to grab one of us from behind and take that one down to the ground.”

“The others ran when they saw it,” said the shaman. “That's why they were facing the village.”

“They probably didn't get a chance to run that far if the thing was fast enough,” said Pitt. “The prints say this thing is a giant. It wouldn't have to run that fast to catch an orc, but it would still be faster than any of your people, most humans, and maybe some of the fair.”

“So if it's there, and we turn around and start back to the village, you think it will attack,” said the elder. He agreed with the logic. He had seen regular cats do the same thing with smaller prey.

“I would be surprised if that didn't happen,” said Pitt. He scratched the back of his head. “I want you to turn around and start down. I'll stay here as a lure.”

“Wouldn't it follow me?,” said the elder. “It could go around you and take me while I'm trying to get away.”

“Stay here,” said Pitt. “I could be wrong. Let's see what happens when I walk up to the trees.”

“All right,” said the elder. “If it kills you, I will send for the Cutter to avenge you.”

“That's nice of you,” said Pitt.

He straightened his coat and started toward the trees. He could be wrong. Maybe he was being paranoid. Just because he felt danger on the wind didn't make it so.

On the other hand, he needed the cat to jump out of the trees so he could do what he did best. Then he could say the trip was a success and he could head back to the village to let Yeats know he was moving on.

The shaman might even trade with the village if the orcs felt they could get something out of it.

Pitt wondered if the cat thought he would be good to eat. He might look too threatening. The elder was old and lame. He was better prey at a glance.

On the other hand, the calculation might be to take him out first. Then it could take the orc any time it wanted. It had already shown itself that it was faster than the younger tribe members that it had already taken.

Pitt decided that he could roll a smoke on the edge of the trees. He needed to act like he wasn't on guard. That was a better lure than watching the trees for something that might not be there.

And if he was wrong, a smoke would calm his nerves.

He hated being bait. Waiting for something to happen was fine if you were watching for enemy action. Standing in front of the enemy and waiting for the action was for the birds.

Pitt pulled out his pouch and started on a cigarette as he walked toward the trees. He made sure to keep his head down to make it look like he wasn't watching for trouble. He put the smoke in his mouth as he heard a growl in front of him.

He hurriedly shoved the tobacco pouch back in his coat pocket as he looked up. He didn't want to lose it now.

Great sapphire eyes glared at him from a round face. Teeth as long as his hand gleamed slightly. The tail waved behind it like a flag in a slow wind. And it was bigger than he had thought it would be.

“Nice kitty,” said Pitt. He put his finished cigarette in his coat pocket so he could smoke it later if he lived. “You don't want to eat me, do you?”

The cat jumped at him. Giant paws extended claws to gouge flesh out of him. Teeth looked sharp enough to rend him to pieces if he let the mouth close on him.

Pitt punched the snout of the beast with a hand that turned into a blur as he pivoted. He frowned as his hand sank into the flesh. Where was the bone that should be breaking under his fist?

The cat bounced away from the impact. It hit a tree and rebounded from that. Claws dug into the ground to keep it from ricochetting around the trees until it ran out steam.

The combatants looked at each other with common expressions of surprise. The cat turned to leap for the ledge so it could flee into the mountains. Pitt leaped forward and grabbed its tail before it could jump clear of the fight.

There was no way he could punch it to death. It just absorbed the shock. He needed a new tactic if he wanted to keep it from preying on the orcs.

The cat tried to pull free from his grip. He tightened down to prevent its escape. It turned to slash at him. He bounced it off a tree while he considered his next move.

He decided he couldn't hurt it with physical blows. Maybe he could strangle it. That meant shifting his grip from the tail to its neck. And if he allowed it to twist, it would claw him to pieces while he was trying to put it down.

He should have armed himself before walking out in search of his prey. He probably could have cut it with a sword with half the problem he was looking at just trying to shift his grip.

At least it couldn't kill the elder while it was trying to kill him.

Pitt slammed the cat into a tree to get room to move. He needed a few seconds while the giant feline tried to regroup. It hit the ground and tried to right itself. He jumped on its back and wrapped an arm around its neck. He locked the grip in with the other arm and squeezed.

They struggled against each other in the trees. Pitt kept compressing its rubbery neck while it tried to knock him off its back with trees. He kicked out against one. That forced the cat to roll over with him under it. Luckily the claws were in the air and couldn't reach him.

After minutes of deadly struggling, the cat went limp. He kept his grip a few more minutes to make sure. He listened. The cat was dead.

Pitt pushed the corpse away. He got to his feet and brushed off his clothes. He shook his head. He should start carrying swords around instead of relying on his unnatural strength.

“You killed it,” said the elder. “I can't believe it.”

“Why?,” said Pitt. He pulled out the remains of his cigarette. He shook his head at its broken length.

That'll teach him to wrestle a monster while he had a perfectly good smoke in his pocket.

“This monster killed good hunters with ease,” said the elder. “You killed it with your bare hands.”

“Don't let anyone know,” said Pitt. “I don't want to fix everyone's problems. I have enough of my own I should be dealing with instead.”

“I will do as you ask,” said the shaman. “No one will know what you have done. Our history will say a great hunter did the deed and then left.”

“Thank you,” said Pitt. “I suggest you burn the corpse before it attracts things you don't want to deal with. The claws might be useful if you can get them off. I don't know how a blade will do against its skin.”

“I will talk with the village and see if we have people with the right skills to do the job,” said the elder.

“Then I am going to leave things in your hands,” said Pitt. “Take care of yourself.”

“Goodbye Cutter, and safe journey,” said the elder. He bowed in acknowledgement of the other's true identity.

Pitt bowed back. He started back toward the village he had been resting at instead of moving on. He needed to let them know he was moving on. His home was in the Highlands.

And letting them know forestalled anyone blaming the orcs for something they hadn't done. He didn't want the army to arrive and wipe the tribe out because someone thought they had tried to kill him.

He hoped none of the orcs tried to eat the monster cat. He couldn't see the rubbery flesh being anything but poison. He had a mental picture of the tribe chewing on the flesh from the cat and not being able to soften it.

He rolled another smoke as he headed to his way station. It was time for him to move on. Staying just meant they would look on him to defend them from bullies as long as he was there. He didn't want to be counted on that much.

That was the main reason he wandered around and changed his name every few years. He didn't want people thinking they could find the Cutter and their problems would magically disappear. He wanted people to deal with their concerns on their own unless they absolutely needed someone who could kill anything to show up.

Pitt puffed on his cigarette as he walked. He made sure to stay away from the orc village. He could do without questions about what had happened. He didn't need their gratitude for what he had done.

He found the road he wanted and walked on. He had enough tobacco and paper to get him to the village. He would have to restock once he got there. Then he could walk back to the sign, and retake his bearing toward his home.

He hoped he arrived as the inn was getting ready for the evening meal. Mrs. Barratree could cook good enough to make spirits leap from their graves for a taste.

One more night in place would be worth it for one of her meals.

He laughed at himself. He was supposed to be ready to move on. Here he was getting attached. He couldn't do that. Trouble followed him wherever he went, not counting Montague snatching him to deal with any trouble deemed too big for the local authority.

One last night of Mrs. Barratree's cooking might be all he could expect to get if he made it back to town soon enough. He might be pulled away in the morning before he could say his goodbyes.

He smoked as he covered the ground. He had given up normal tiredness when he became one of the Thousand. He felt he should be able to get to the town sooner than he had left since he didn't have others slowing him down.

He crossed back into the human territories and flew toward his destination. His passage was like the wind, and the only things to see it were the animals he passed without pausing to see what they did in response.

Animals knew better to block his passage. Bandits and monsters didn't, but he didn't run into any trying to stop him.

It would have gone badly for them if they had.

Pitt smiled as he saw the town appear in the distance.