Chapter One
Danny hated hunting. For a long time, he’d actually believed he hated his native Alaska.
But looking up at the moon over Fairbanks, the full Wolf Moon, glowing at four in the afternoon.
He felt as if he were ten years old again and full of wonder at the magical place few people would experience.
The loss of sunshine bothered many, but with enough activities and happy lights, they
made it through. Hiking through the snow with his oldest brother Frank, Danny missed his college days in the lower forty-eight. There, he could be himself fully. Moving back to Alaska had been very hard, but there had been no choice when his dad had gotten sick. His family was close and they needed him.
Sometimes, he felt his family was too close. Fairbanks was a large city but also tight-knit.
His being gay would shock his family and send ripples through the circles in which they ran. He was the one they all turned to when things went wrong. He was the good one. The youngest who was always there when needed.
“Where the hell are you, Danny?” His brother snapped his fingers. “Damn. A juicy kill
could walk right out in front of you and you’d miss it.”
“Hunting isn’t my thing,” Danny said.
“You do great at target practice. Always have. Good thing you’re a pilot and not a
hunter.” He looked around. “Fine. I don’t smell anything. No luck today. I’m heading home.
Think about the business idea I mentioned. With your helicopter skills and my hunting skills, we’d be a hell of a team.”
Danny sighed. “Okay, I’ll think on it. See you Sunday.” His sister-in-law had taken over the Sunday dinners with Mom busy looking after Dad. Even with Dad recovering, more things changed. As much as Danny loved his family, he felt alone in a crowd. They didn’t know the real him. Maybe he’d never get up the courage. Not that they’d believe him anyway. All the men in his family were the same. They charmed women and hunted animals with big muscles and
macho attitude. Danny looked the part, but he didn’t go after animals or women.
After hiking over a mile or so, Danny arrived back at his house on the edge of the woods.
The exercise felt good, but his big brother’s idea left him flat. Aerial hunting? It was big business but hardly sporting. Where was the challenge? It would be like those lavish wildlife hunting grounds where they fed the animals so they trusted people then trotted them out for rich guys to hunt. No tracking or skill involved. Wolf hunting, what his brother meant to do from the air, wasn’t even for food. Feeding a family was one thing; hunting only to kill was another.
Luckily, Danny had skills and an education. Pilots were always in demand—especially in
Alaska. Bush pilots were good. He could fly small planes, but helicopters were his specialty. He was the pilot on the medical crew for Fairbanks Medical Centers. Getting in and out of
impossible places to rescue people and get them to the hospital was a challenge. The adrenaline rush kept him going but offered no personal life.
Flying was his love. But now his brother wanted him to use that skill to make money off
hunting and tourists. Danny wasn’t interested, but it was family.
Frank would be doing the hunting part. Danny just had to fly. His brother had been out of work for over a year and struggled to make ends meet. The whole family helped as much as they could. A mortgage, two kids and no work was hard to deal with. If they didn’t have a freezer full of Caribou meat from a recent, flash-frozen road kill, Danny would feel even more pressure to help.
He paused and surveyed the back of his property. Normally, there were plenty of animals
around. Even when he hiked, he’d see a moose, jack rabbits, a fox, a wolf or two. He didn’t bother them, and they generally ignored the human. Now, there was nothing.
Danny knew that meant something more dangerous was around. He looked around more
carefully. The snow on the ridge
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
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