With his night eyes the Young Sasquatch saw clearly where the Hairless One lay across the street. The weapon it held was all too familiar, and so was the effect of the metal wasps that bit at his skin.

     At the ranch siege he had been hit more than once with the strange poison they punched into his body… but this time it was worse. Perhaps it was because he had not eaten for some time, or perhaps these wasps stung harder, but his vision swirled momentarily, making him stagger.

     But his vision cleared and with it came a surge of fear which pumped blood into his legs. With a bound he was back into the trees behind him, dodging as he felt more angry wasps buzz past his ear.

     As soon as he was a handful of trees back he dropped and finger crawled behind a low hedge a few paces from the nearest tree. Even in his fear he understood he had better chance of not being seen if he was where the Hairless Ones would not expect him to be. The hedge was barely higher than his back, even though he was laying flat, but through a small gap he could see his idea was working. The Hairless Ones were looking above his head, into the trees themselves.

     He controlled the surging fear and froze his entire body to stillness, seeking the pulse of the earth beneath his finger tips and toes.

     The sounds the Hairless Ones made carried clearly to where he was.

     “Dammit, I told you to take it down!” the thin one shouted as the Hairless One that had shot him got up and crossed the street towards the others.

     His night eyes could easily see the smile and he recognised it as the soldier he had thrown against the barn wall the night of the siege. Indeed he saw how it walked gingerly and favoured its side where it  had crashed into the wall.

     “I got it, don’t worry. These tranks are much stronger than the ones we used at the ranch house. That bugger is going down soon, if it’s not already snoozing under a bush.”

     “Please stop! He hasn’t hurt anybody!” As he heard the young Hairless One’s voice, the Young Sasquatch mouthed the boy’s name, SIMON. 

     And suddenly felt very tired. The blood in his veins felt slow and heavy like freezing ice.

     He had been holding himself just off the ground on his fingers and toes, ready to move instantly but abruptly they gave way and his entire weight thumped onto the ground.

     It drew the attention of the Hairless Ones, still standing out near the street. His heart sank as every head turned towards where he lay. What was wrong with him?

     His head swirled.

     “Did you hear that?”

     “Hear it? I felt it! Told ya, the bugger’s already going down.”

     “Go in after it and make sure.” The thin one ordered.

     “No! Leave him alone! He hasn’t hurt anybody!” The boy’s voice again, and for some reason with it came memories that drove into the Young Sasquatch’s swirling head like bees… his Father, swinging him high into the branches of a tree to shake down clouds of the nuts that grew high up where the sun warmed the leaves.

     … His mother, carefully grooming his back, searching for ticks and untangling the knots that always formed in his hair after a night of running through the forest.

     … His little sister, gurgling at him from where she clung onto his mother’s back as the troop trekked through the mountains.

     The thought of his sister and the claw marks in the tree from the night she had been taken triggered the memory of the Mooshkah and a surge of anger filled his sluggish veins. The fire of it began to melt the ice that had formed. 

     Then a memory of his mother again, holding out for him the tiny Hairless Baby, before she turned and followed his father into that swirling storm of death that had taken them both from him. The embers of his anger flared into flame, further melting the ice that had formed in his veins. With an effort he took his weight on his fingers and toes once again, prepared to move.

     “No bloody way I’m going in after it mate. You go for your life.”

     “I will,” he saw the big one start towards where he lay, moving slowly but confidently as it spoke over its shoulder, “Call in the chopper. We’ll sling it out of here.”

     “No! Please leave him alone. He hasn’t hurt nobody!”

     The Young Sasquatch recognized the next sound as laughter, “Your mate took out most of an entire unit kid, tore em all to pieces.”

     The big Hairless One was really close now and the Young Sasquatch sensed it could see him, which was strange for Hairless One’s eyes were blind in the shadows of the night.

     He remembered the night of the siege. He had chased this large Hairless One to its giant metal beetle and it had moved surprisingly fast for one of its kind then. 

     The fire of his anger surged, thawing the last of the ice in his veins, and he rose to his feet, but not to run. He growled as his rage surged into a forest fire that threatened to consume him as well as his enemies.

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