Chapter 5
Jack put the two tufts of fur back where he found them, then crouched down and stared at the small hole for a long moment. A plan was forming in his mind.
Growing up, he used to follow his grandfather Hayden everywhere. Hayden was a farmer who had taught him quite a few trapping tricks.
Once his mind was made up, Jack walked back to his sled and started digging through his gear. In his pack was a coil of thin rope he'd salvaged from a wrecked tent he'd found out on the snowfield.
He'd originally planned to use it for fishing, but the ice was too thick to break through, so he'd given up on that idea.
Jack pulled out the rope and cut it into two pieces, each a little over three feet long, then tied a slipknot at one end of each.
Hayden had taught him this knot when he was a kid. Once triggered, it only pulled tighter — there was no getting out of it. Perfect for catching animals.
Then he found two sticks, secured the snares to them, and carefully pushed the sticks into the ground around the small tunnel entrance.
Finally, he picked out a small piece from the honey he'd already packed away, broke off a bit, and set it right at the tunnel opening.
The sweet smell of honey could travel a long way, and chipmunks had sharp noses. It would make perfect bait.
The viewers watching the stream had been following Jack's every move, and now they started talking again.
"What's this guy doing? Is he setting a trap?"
"Looks like he's trying to catch something. Is there anything out there this time of year? Mice?"
"Probably chipmunks. They should still be active in November."
"Yeah, that makes sense. I saw him pick up two tufts of fur near the hole earlier — looked like chipmunk fur to me."
"You think he'll actually catch one? Aren't chipmunks really hard to catch?"
Jack couldn't see any of the comments. He just kept his head down, finishing up his trap, then went back and checked it over one more time.
After that, he shifted the fire a little closer to the tunnel entrance — but made sure the light didn't actually reach the opening.
Hayden had told him once that chipmunks are afraid of light. If they spotted any brightness near the tunnel entrance, they wouldn't come out.
Once everything was set, Jack settled back against the wall and pulled the wolf pelt over himself again.
He needed to rest and save his strength. Outside, the blizzard was still raging, the wind howling in waves.
The tarp rattled and hummed in the gusts, and snow kept piling up higher and higher outside.
Jack got up twice to prop sticks under the tarp, making sure the weight of the snow didn't collapse the ventilation opening.
Finally, late in the night, something stirred in the tunnel. Jack's eyelids twitched — he'd already spotted two small yellow dots of light moving in the darkness deep inside the tunnel.
He could also faintly make out soft, scattered sounds, mixed with tiny squeaks.
The minutes ticked by slowly. The two chipmunks were being very cautious, moving forward a foot or two at a time, then stopping.
They seemed to be listening carefully for any sign of danger inside the cave, only moving forward again once they were sure it was safe.
Just when Jack thought the two chipmunks weren't going to come out at all tonight, the faint sounds suddenly grew louder.
Then two sets of movement came through the narrow tunnel, getting closer and closer — Jack could even hear the faint scratch of tiny claws on stone.
A few seconds later, a small head poked out of the tunnel opening.
A chipmunk, about the size of a fist.
Its fur was a warm brownish-yellow — exactly the same color as the tufts Jack had picked up earlier. Its little nose twitched rapidly in the air.
The moment it caught the sweet scent of honey, its whole head turned instinctively toward the bait.
But the chipmunk was cautious. After poking its head out, it didn't come all the way out. It stayed right there, its tiny eyes darting around, scanning the cave as if looking for something.
Jack lay still under the wolf pelt, not moving a muscle. He even slowed his breathing.
Through a gap in the fur, he watched the chipmunk with narrowed eyes, and out of the corner of his eye, he checked the position of the trap.
He was waiting for it to walk right in.
The chipmunk hesitated for about a minute. In the end, it couldn't resist the honey. It finally pulled its whole body out of the tunnel and crept toward the bait.
Then the second chipmunk came out. This one was noticeably bigger than the first — about the size of a small bowling pin.
The two chipmunks moved one after the other, but the bigger one was clearly faster. It quickly overtook the smaller one and went straight for the trap.
It bit into the honey — and triggered the snare. The loop snapped tight around its neck instantly.
The large chipmunk let out a sharp cry and began thrashing wildly, all four legs kicking in the air, its tail slapping against the surrounding rocks.
The smaller chipmunk froze at the sight, then immediately spun around to bolt back to the tunnel.
But Jack had already cut off its escape. He'd set up a small mechanism at the tunnel entrance earlier — when both chipmunks came out, a stone had dropped into place, blocking their way back.
Seeing the prey was caught, Jack threw off the wolf pelt and moved quickly. He bent down and grabbed the smaller chipmunk as it scrambled around in a panic.
The little animal thrashed and fought, biting at Jack's glove with its sharp teeth. It was no use.
Jack smiled at the small chipmunk in his hand, then reached down and picked up the larger one from the snare.
The loop had pulled very tight. The big chipmunk's neck was broken.
It hung limp in Jack's grip, its head drooping to one side.
The smaller chipmunk, seeing its companion dead, struggled even harder in Jack's hand. Jack had planned to bring both of them over to the fire and deal with them there.
But then, without warning, the small chipmunk gave a sudden violent twist — and slipped right out of his hand.
It hit the ground and bolted in a panic, heading straight for the back of the cave.
Jack's stomach dropped. He reached out to grab it, but he was a split second too late. The chipmunk was fast — it shot into the narrow tunnel and disappeared.
At the far end of that tunnel was the brown bear, deep in hibernation.
Everyone watching the stream was stunned.
"Oh my god — where did that little chipmunk go?"
"If I'm guessing right, there's a brown bear somewhere deep in that cave."
"What's going to happen? Is Jack going to be okay?"
The viewers on the other side of the screen were panicking. And on this side, Jack's expression had shifted too.
He turned, grabbed his axe, then crouched down at the narrow tunnel entrance and peered inside. But it was pitch black — he couldn't see a thing.
He hesitated for a moment, then turned back, picked up his torch, and headed into the tunnel.
The deeper he went, the clearer the faint scratching sounds of the chipmunk became.
He stopped when he reached the point where his senses told him the bear was nearby.
Not far ahead, he could tell the chipmunk had come to a sudden stop — it had gotten close to the bear and then slammed on the brakes.
Then instinct kicked in, and it turned and ran back toward the entrance.
Jack didn't hesitate. When the chipmunk came rushing back toward him, he grabbed it and pinched its neck. The chipmunk went still.
But then Jack noticed something. The bear's breathing in the darkness had changed. It was no longer that slow, deep, rhythmic sound from before.
