Mad Ann kept looking back at him as if she was still not sure he hadn’t become part cougar but they rounded a bend in the wash in good time. The elk-man came back into view as they did so. He had dropped back into a laying position in the sandiest part of the wash a few yards from where he’d been when Oliver had limped off. Ann balked and side stepped once she got a nose full of the dead cat. She skirted around where the elk-man lay and, ripping the reigns from Olivers’ hands, gave the body of the cat a whale eyed look before she began to strike at and stomp it. She danced away from the trampled corpse with an irritated huff. Before she could go back for seconds Oliver reached up and gave her a good smack behind the ears. Her head jerked up and she gave him an indignant look but left the cat alone.

The elk-man watched the whole display quietly, having only flinched when Man Anns iron shod hooves had caved in the ribs of the cat. Oliver swung down out of the saddle and grimace as he put weight back on his tattered leg. He leaned down to take a close look at the afflicted limb; it was going to need a good washing out and probably a few stitches. Ann walked forward, unceremoniously dragging her rider forward as well in a stumbling hop, approaching the elk-man where he lay. Her great black nose flared as she wuffled his dark bangs and then gently lipped the palm of the hand he offered her. Oliver clung to the mares neck, dumbfounded. He had never seen her so affectionate, not even with the filly she’d foaled several years ago.

The elk-man murmured softly at the mare and gently stroked her nose as she dropped her head to his chest. Oliver didn’t understand much but he recognized what he thought might have been the Cherokee word for “good.” He realized the elk-man was staring at him between Mad Anns ears.

“Right!’ he quipped as he hopped down the mares body to his saddle bags and fished out a length of rope.

He normally used it to secure hunted game to the skirt of Mad Anns saddle but had a different plan for it today. He hobbled about and picked up as many long, straight sticks as he could find nearby. When he had an arm full he hopped back to Mad Ann and the elk-man.

“Ya think you can stand again?' he asked, still hanging back a good pace.

He readjusted his load of sticks and rope pointing at the battered fore-leg that the elk-man had gingerly arranged. With a grunt, the first real indication that he'd been understood, the elk-man made a strange nickering sound deep in his throat and Mad Ann swung her hind quarters around so she stood where the elk-man would be able to use her like a horse shaped crutch. It took some effort but the elk-man was able to get back to his feet. He leaned heavily on Ann, who stood uncharacteristically still, and carefully made sure to keep his antlers from poking the dark colored mare in the face.

Oliver approached and knelt down in front of the elk-man, dropping his burden into the sand next to him. The leg was swollen and as he reached out with his hands he could feel the heat radiating off the offended flesh. The elk-man made a startled snort and jumped back a step when Olivers fingers gently closed around the limb just below the knee. Mad Ann scrambled back a pace to keep herself under her charge.

“Easy big guy!' Oliver protested, pulling his hands back 'I gotta find the break if I'm gonna splint this proper like.”

“Ha wa.' The elk-man said slowly after giving Oliver a contemplative look and limped forward a step to his original position. His rich baritone voice was clear although his mouth appeared to barely move when he spoke.

'Definitely Cherokee...' Oliver thought as he reached forward again and gently probed the swollen leg to find the break.

Eventually he did find where he thought the worst of the break was. He splinted it quickly only eliciting the occasional hiss and twitch from his strange patient. The sky had been stained an even warmer orange by the time he was done and he sat back on his pockets to inspect his work. The elk-man gingerly lifted the leg and seemed to nod in acceptance.

After rolling to his feet Oliver glanced over to the body of the cat. He might have gotten a good price for the pelt before Mad Ann had stomped it but now it probably wasn’t worth the trouble. At least if they left it here in the wash the scavengers in the canyon would have a fair meal. He shook his head and then took up one of Mad Anns reigns and began to lead her down the wash. The Elk-man made no protest and followed, limping along and using the horses sturdy bulk to support him where his broken leg could not. It was slow going and some places were a little hard to navigate. Most of the deer trails that they trekked along once out of the wash were too narrow to accommodate the horse and elk bodies walking side by side so they had to find new routes around groves of low growing cedar and prickly pear cactus.

When the sun hit the rim of the canyon he began to look for a suitable place to bed down for the night. His attention so focused on his task, partly to keep himself from paying attention to the throbbing in his own tattered leg, that he jumped when the elk-man reached forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“What?!' he snapped, hearing the quip of fear in his voice only to be instantly flushed with embarrassment

“A-ni-si-di.' The elk-man said. He didn’t seem to notice, or care, about Olivers embarrassment; instead only pointing ahead of them to a grove of trees with a hollow in the center.

It was protected on one side by a red slate wall while a collection of large grey rocks, that looked somewhat like a turtle, formed a wind barrier on another side. Even as they limped closer toward the sheltered space he wondered at how well hidden it would have been had it not been pointed out to him.

Beneath the bows of the dense ceder trees were patches of grass that had once grown tall but now were bent and flattened down. This had been the resting place of a small heard of deer some time recently. He cleared a space in the center of the little hallow down to the red dirt of the canyon floor. Before long he had a small fire flickering, Mad Ann tacked down and hobbled just outside where she could graze, and his saddle and bags arranged opposite of where the elk-man had laid himself down with a pained grunt.

He dropped a few more chunks of dry deadwood onto the pile he’d gathered near the fire before settling down with a grunt of his own. The canyon grew darker and darker as they sat there by the fire. Off in the distance he heard the coyotes take up their answering calls. He swallowed a mouthful of jerky he'd pulled from one of his packs as the sounds of the night bugs took over the chorus from their furrier neighbors. He hadn’t heard any wolves howling and felt relived for once that they might be out hunting JA Ranch cattle instead of prowling the canyon for easy, injured, prey.

With a sigh he leaned forward in the firelight and peeled the shreds of his pant leg away from the long gashes that the cougar had given him. After gently prodding his leg and inspecting each wound he dug out his canteen and a clean handkerchief.

“Some of those will need stitching.” the elk-man said, breaking through the noises of the night with his deep voice.

“So you can speak English?' Oliver replied as he peeled small pieces of debris and scab away from the deepest of the slashes. 'Nice to know, I only speak of few words of Cherokee an' only one of um is 'Good.”

“You do not sound surprised.”

“I's saved from a cougar by a half elk-man earlier t'day... I don't know as much that can be more surprising than that!”

There was a pause and then the soft click of a tongue.

“This is fair.”

Oliver hissed as he poured some of the clean water from the canteen over the cuts, washing them out as best he could. They lapsed back into silence, broken only by the occasional snort from Mad Ann, while Oliver used the handkerchief to bandage the worst of the wound. He pulled the final knot tight with a grunt the flopped back onto the dried grass.

“Names' Oliver Brooks.' he said to the canopy that blocked most of the dark, star speckled, sky from view

“I am called A-wi... Black Elk.”