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    A leap, a tuck, and Wes’s head was in his teeth. He somersaulted over, the world twisting, gripped as tight as he could, and felt the neck snap. Sergeant screamed, and Gunner tried to fire, but Sergeant was in the way. He moved to the side, and Cap dodged the other way as Sergeant dropped his end of the litter and tugged at his Gun. Cap tasted brains and sprang away, rolling off the path and into the soft, leafy fronds of a downweed patch, which hid him as he descended the hill and slid over the edge of the ravine, roots and tendrils snagging him. Guns sounded again, and he winced at pain in his side. He had been hit, but it wasn’t bad. Nor would it matter if it had been bad. He was hunting. He had an Enemy to bring down.
    Five.
    He circled again, listening.
    “—can’t leave her here!” Sergeant said.
    “Do you want to try getting to a weapon before that thing rips your throat out? Mother of God, have they bioengineered those things?”
    “I’ll carry the back, weapon slung, you do the same up front. Drop her if we have to. At least she’ll have a chance!” Sergeant said.
    “You didn’t hear me, Phil, I’m not carrying anything! I’m making that rendezvous, and they are never sending me back without a full platoon. You file any paperwork you want. I’d rather spend the war in jail than have that thing rip me to death. I liked Cynd, but she’s not going to make it.”
    There was the click of a Gun being readied. Sergeant spoke, “Sergeant Second Class Willen Rogers, pick up that litter or I’ll shoot you right here!”
    “You really are insane, you know that?” Silence. “All right. Sorry. Nerves. Let’s get the hell out of here.” The sound of their feet indicated they were carrying the Litter, and Cap felt pleasure again. He would finish this, despite the wound. He might die as he killed them, but David would be avenged.
    They were still heading north, and Cap kept back a bit. Sergeant was watching the trees. He was the tricky one, and Cap would save him for last. He wouldn’t die quickly, and Gunner might shoot him while he fought with Sergeant.
    Ahead was the upper branch of the creek. They would have to cross there, and that’s where he’d kill them.
    His side hurt severely, and he licked at it, tongue rasping through the fur. It tasted of blood, and the bitter tang of other damage. But he wasn’t dead yet, and there were still things that must be done.
    He rose and moved. He motion was tight and slower than before, but he ignored the pain and glided along the boughs.
    Bald Hill, as the humans called it, was not the highest point around. It wasn’t really a hill, just a jutting end of a smooth ridge. The creek flowed past it from the highlands, and Cap would have to be ready, as once they crossed the water they’d be where they could be found, and would have clear space to protect them. He urged himself forward, breath gurgling slightly. The wound in his side had hurt his ribs. No matter. He sprang nimbly from tree to tree, skirting the two Enemy and their burden.
    This was good, he thought. They must cross here, with the Litter, as the ground sloped instead of dropping off. He would wait . . . there.

    The Enemy was close now. He could hear them muttering to reassure each other, and hear their tortured breaths. They would have few more of those. He waited under the cut bank of the creek, just upstream from the crossing. Their voices resolved through the chuckling sound of the creek.
    “—get across and we can rest,” Sergeant said.
    “Thank God,” Gunner heaved out between strangled gasps. His voice was unclear yet. “We’ll need . . . ready . . . for when evac arrives. How do we . . . what happened?”
    “We tell them exactly what happened,” Sergeant said. “There’s enough evidence in the monitors.”
    They stopped at the beach and prepared to cross, and Cap took the moment to swim closer. A projection covered him, and he waited for them to splash into