Oliver slowly became aware of a dim light behind his eyelids and blink blearily to find himself looking up at the wide bands of white gypsum and red shale that made up the floor and walls of the canyon. He groaned as the gloom receded in the wake of the sharp, throbbing pain of his leg, back, and shoulders. Moving to roll over and right himself he found himself face to face with the open jaws of a mountain lion. He yelped and jerked backwards. The cat remained motionless, its eyes half closed as it lay broken on several good sized rocks with a sharp tine jammed deep into the muscle of its shoulder.

He pushed himself up to a sitting position, dragging his left leg out from beneath the heavy body of the elk-man. He let his eyes move slowly up from the big elk body, along the tanned human torso to the pained expression that covered the finely chiseled face beneath the antlers. The creature appeared to be breathing although unconscious. Oliver took a deep breath, held it and then let it out slowly. He looked at the elk-man again and, shaking his head, repeated the breathing exercise. Looking around himself he took a better stock of what was near by: rocks, sand, brushy dry grass... and about twenty feet away lay his rifle.

He picked up a stick that was close at hand and poked the nose of the cat. No reaction. Crawling closer to it he could see where the animal had impacted on the rocks and the slowing trickle of blood that was seeping from its shoulder. The sand soaked up the moisture thirstily. It was most definitely dead.

Turning his attention away from the familiar to the weird he used his trusty stick to poke the elk-man this time. First just above the shoulder blade of the elk body and then at the place where the human-like portion joined the lower body... He got no response so he probed further. He poked the tanned human shoulder and jerked when the muscle underneath twitched in reaction.

“Steady on Oliver, yer not old enough to be goin’ crazy yet.” He muttered at himself under his breath

Returning his stick to the ground, cautious, as if the mere sound of it shifting the sand beneath it would wake the strange creature, he crept forward and this time poked with his own callused finger. The skin was warm and the muscle underneath was toned. He leaned over the human shoulder to get a better look at the face. The elk-mans face looked similar to some of the Cherokee people he’d met.

His hair wasn’t quite as dark though, more brown than black: closer to the color of the darker fur of the elk portion of his body. His ears were strange and elk like, elongated and covered in short dark fur, although they began in the same place one might expect normal human ears to be. His eyes were a dark brown as well, deep set under strong brows...

Oliver threw himself backward away from the elk-man now realizing he had been staring at the now wide awake face of the creature.

“Here now, I don’t mean you no ill! I’z just... uh... I’z just trying to figure out what... uh... who? Who ya are, see!’Oliver stammered, raising an open palm up between them.

The elk-man had his back to him but the defensive gesture had been reflexive.

The head of the elk-man shifted slightly, just enough to glance over its shoulder. He fixed Oliver with a steady look. He let out a deep sighing breath, turned away, and tried to rise but dropped back into the sand with a grunt. His antlers still weighted down by the expired cat. Oliver scooted back until his shoulders rested firmly against the wall of the wash. He watched as the elk-man twisted his shoulders and pushed himself up with his arms, gingerly working his tines free. Leveraging his torso up his lower body shifted to pull his legs beneath him but he stopped with a pained hiss.

He breathed heavily for a moment before taking a deep draw of air. In one swift movement he: threw his body weight to one side, rocked backward onto this thick cervine haunches, and then launched himself forward with a stagger in to a standing position. He stood on three shaky legs, one of his fore-limbs gingerly held just above the sand. With his fists clinched, the elk-man took a limping step forward and then dropped back down into the sand with a strangled sound. One of his legs had clearly been broken in the fall.

Oliver let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He used the red shale creek wall to push himself up onto his own feet. His right leg throbbed as he put weight on it; a pulse of fresh blood stained the ripped leg of his pant where the mountain lion had hooked him with its claws. He limped forward cautiously.

“Uh...’ He stopped as the elk-man turned his antlered head to fix him with dark eyes. ‘I don’t know if you can understand me but... thank you. You really saved my hide up there.”

He gestured to the cat and then up the wall to the place they’d fallen from. The elk-man followed each motion with his eyes and after a few moments; nodded.

Oliver, not sure of what to do next, glanced at his rifle where it lay and then looked up at the sky. It was starting to turn a gentle creamed orange color just over the ridge of the canyon. Unsure of how long he’d been out after the fall he could only guess he had about four hours of real light left. It would be fully dark by the time he got back to the dugout, even if he road Mad Ann a good pace all the way back. A hefty grunt caught his attention as the elk-man attempted to lurch his way back to his feet again. He managed to steady himself on his three good legs but the beads of sweat on his brow made it clear that it was an effort.

It wasn’t likely that coyotes would give the big creature trouble and the likelihood of another big cat being in the area was pretty slim as there territories were large. The wolves would be a problem though. There was enough shed blood between the elk-man, dead cat, and himself that the smell would probably draw them in for an easy meal...

He limped to his rifle and retrieved it from the dirt, dusting a few granules of obstinate sand off. Even if the firing pin was enclosed he didn’t want to run the risk of it misfiring if he needed it later. Checking his pocket he fished out one of the four remaining bullets and reloaded the firearm. He’d go retrieve Mad Ann first and then figure out what to do after that. He turned to the elk-man who had cocked his head slightly. His ears laid back making his expression a mix of both curiosity and suspicion. Oliver made a quick waving motion.

“I’ll be back. Just need a minute to fetch my hot headed partner.’ He said, still unsure of whether or not the elk-man understood him.

He limped down the wash, dodging the roughest patches of rock as he half hopped, half drug, himself through the sand and clay. He passed the tracks of the elk-man where he had run across the wash and scrambled up the near vertical wall to come to his rescue. He found an old deer or hog trail that led him up the side of the wash to the flat above nearby where he left Mad Ann hobbled. The dark colored mare snapped her head up as he limped close. She gave him a wide eyed glare as she shied away, smelling the cougar on him and instinctively rejecting it. He shushed her as she let out a half-hearted whinny. Grabbing for the pommel of his saddle he slid his rifle into its saddle holster and then painfully dropped to his knees and undid the hobbles on her fore-legs. After stowing the simple leather cuffs in his bags he pulled himself up in to the saddle and turned Ann back the way he had just come, down into the wash.