steps. He didn’t care why the animal was lying there. He only cared that it was and that it would take away the splitting pains screaming through his stomach.
“Get away from my food,” he heard, and he lowered to a crouch, whirling toward the voice, raising his pocketknife toward the threat. Pup let out a low growl, crouching down as well to attack. It was another boy like him, his blond hair past his shoulders, in a fighting stand, his left arm held out and something shiny in his hand. For a minute Jak was shocked quiet, and then his heart started booming in his chest, pounding in his head. They stared at each other, the other boy’s eyes shiny and . . . crazy, his face twisted into hatred. Violence. He came at Jak, his left leg dragging behind him. There was something wrong with it.
Jak raised his hands quickly, trying to let the boy know he was not a threat. His stomach cramped in pain again. “Did you kill this deer?” he asked, his voice shaky.
“Get away,” the boy barked, moving forward, swiping what Jak could now see was a hunting knife at him.
Jak jumped back, missing the blade. Pup snarled, moving forward. “Pup, no,” he said loudly, not knowing if Pup would listen or not. He needed to do something. And fast. “Whoa. Wait, wait. Listen to me, we can share it. We’re both hungry and there’s enough for two. More than enough.” He thought about offering his cabin, the blanket, somewhere to dry off and get warm, but he didn’t know who this boy was—he might be on the enemy’s side—and he wasn’t sure it was safe to offer him anything at all. He looked crazy, and Jak wasn’t sure his words were being heard.
But either way, he was not going to let him take all the meat on the ground between them. He could die if he did that. Pup could die too.
“We’ll split it,” Jak said again, louder, trying to make eye contact. But the boy’s eyes stayed on the meat, a look so hurting in his gaze that Jak felt it all the way to his own aching belly. “I’ll help you skin it and carve up the meat. Doing all that is long, hard work. I’ll do most of it,” he offered. “We can join together.” He searched for the right words, words to make the boy hear him, agree, but the boy looked uncaring about what he was saying. “What’s your name?” he asked, trying from a different side. “I’m Jak, I—"
The boy moved forward again very quickly, swiping the knife and Jak leaned back, the blade just missing him. Pup jumped forward and the boy let out a growl of his own, swinging the blade through the air, back, forth, back, forth. One of his swings caught Pup on the leg and Pup squealed in pain, blood spurting onto the white ground as he limped back, still growling, but not moving toward the still-swinging boy again.
“Stay back, Pup!” Jak yelled, holding his own pocketknife toward the boy, trying one more time to talk him out of what he was doing. “I know you’re hungry. I’m hungry too. I’m not trying to take your meat. I just want to split it. We can both eat. We can work together—”
The boy let out a screaming war cry and threw himself at Jak, and red-hot pain sliced down Jak’s cheek. Jak cried out, jumping back again and bringing his hand to his stinging face. His fur-glove-covered hand came away matted and dark with blood. Anger and fear mixed inside Jak as he gave up the idea of talking instead of fighting. This boy had left him no choice but to defend his own life. The next swipe might be across his throat. The boy in front of him was fighting to kill.
The two of them circled each other, their breaths coming out in small white clouds of air. They were close enough now that any knife swipe could be deadly. Something hot spiked through Jak, his heart like thunder in his ears. Maybe if I can knock the knife away from him, I can—
The other boy attacked, his body hitting Jak with a loud oof, and they both went down to the ground, the crunching sound of the snow top breaking below them. They each yelled and then they were rolling, grunting, as Pup growled and yapped in the background, faraway, or so