Claws by Kassanna

structure, listening closely for any sign that someone was home. The whitewash on the old house had seen better days and large strips of paint peeled away from the exterior walls. The place used huge logs for its foundation and rested half in the water as if someone had once tried to drag the building on shore or vice versa.
    Next to the shack a dilapidated dock riddled with holes looked as if it would collapse in to the inlet at any moment. The wood groaned in the background like an old woman with bad arthritis. Old plastic paint buckets were flipped over and hung on the pylons the pier was connected to.
    She eased around the side to the small porch. Tight wire lines connected the house to the ground. Below them the dark barren clay sported darker spots. Blood and lots of it, saturated the dirt. This had been a killing field for some time. Anger welled up from the pit of her gut. It wasn’t about making sure food was on the table or even stripping the furs to sell in order to keep a roof over your head. This was about greed. The poachers were murdering animals in mass numbers. Her beast demanded retribution for such disrespect.
    Sasha leaped up on to the deck and glanced through the single grimy window. A twin bed was shoved in one corner while an old, frayed, yellow couch sat in the middle of the room facing the door. The little kitchenette was set up similar to Etienne’s at the fish camp but there was no bathroom that she could see. Mais was right. Those bastards were probably out setting snares. Well it was time the hunters realized they were the prey. She needed to leave a few traps for them. Sasha shifted and raised her arm. Mais strutted to her from one direction and two large wolverines exited through the saw grass on the opposite side of the building.
    Walking toward Sasha, they shifted from one step into the next.
    One of the wolverines spoke. “I don’t like this place. It’s very bad.” Her slight accent gave her voice a lyrical quality.
    The other nodded in agreement.
    Mais wrinkled her nose. “So much blood. Why hadn’t we caught on to this before? I say we burn this bitch down.”
    Sasha quickly shook her head. “That would be a give a way that someone was here. They would just run and start killing somewhere else. I say we make them desperate, give them the feeling of being hunted. Let’s check the house and leave a few traps for them. Then we wait. The assholes have to come home sometime. We can play with them for a little while, then take ’em back to Sint.” She wrapped her fingers around the knob and pushed. The door swung in silently. They all peered around the barrier.
    “This house needs a thorough cleaning,” Mais commented drily.
    “Honestly, you’re worried about this place’s upkeep when the residents appear to have been butchering animals for months?” One of the wolverines leaned back and crossed her arms.
    “It was just an observation,” Mais replied innocently.
    “Let just see if the idiots left anything we could work with.” Sasha stepped between the two and over the threshold.
    They followed behind her, each woman choosing a different section of the small structure.
    Mais snatched open drawers and rifled through them before slamming them shut. She moved on to the only other set of cabinets. Sasha flipped the cushions on the couch, then dropped to her knees and ran her hand underneath the sofa edge. One wolverine sentry kept look out while the other yanked the mattress off the bed.
    “I got wire and fishing line,” Mais shouted.
    “I found an old knife stuck in the frame of the davenport.” Sasha responded.
    “This nasty-ass bed ain’t got nothin’ but bugs and a match book.” The wolverine sentinel swept her hands down her arms.
    Mais scrunched up her face and took a giant step back. Sasha checked the area around her to make sure no insects jumped off the furniture. She lifted her face and pursed her lips. They didn’t have much, but they could make do with what