Disclaimer: I fully realize that the characters of Fraser, Ray, Dief and the rest of the gang are the property of Due South and Alliance. I merely couldn't help myself in experimenting with them a little on my own accord in a tribute to my favorite episode, "North." They are returned at the end of the story only a little worse for wear. Of course if anyone questions me, I had temporary insanity (and don't I wish I could have it all the time.) Anyway, please enjoy the tale and all comments are welcome.

Note: This story takes place after "North." Spoilers for various episodes.

Ray Vecchio lifted a mud-smeared hand to wipe his sweating brow and was disgusted at how it came away filthier than before. "This is disgusting," he commented loudly. He lifted his brand-new Timberland from a deep sucking mudhole. "Fraser, when you said early summer would be better weather for the annual trip to the Territories, I thought it would be dry and balmy."

"Ray, that describes weather in Hawaii, not Canada."

"Well then, when do you get nice weather up here?"

"This is nice weather," came the retort as Fraser moved further off into the woods beside the panoramic valley where his father's cabin once stood.

"Right," Ray said snidely. "For a water buffalo," he added under his breath. He hefted the muddy axe one more time and swung futiley at the tree in front of him. A small sliver of wood and some mud fell to the forest floor. He grunted in disgust. Diefenbaker, sitting fearlessly only a few yards from the budding Bunyan, yawned mightily and let loose with a snuffle and a whine while rolling onto his back.

"Keep it up, laughing boy," Ray warned the wolf. "I've got the trajectory all lined up. It's coming down right where you're sitting." Dief sneezed his disbelief. Ray pushed at the trunk of the tree, but nothing but pine needles and branches fell around him. Anger blossomed at the fact that northern trees resisted all of his attempts at cutting them down. It was like a curse or something. He could hear the wolf's laughter and decided not to even look his way. Spurred on by frustration, Ray let loose with a mighty swing with his axe and a hoarse cry. A crack rent the air and the tree shuddered once as its shadow began to move along the earth straight towards Diefenbaker.

"Look out!" Ray shouted. He had only been kidding with the wolf. To tell the truth, he had no idea where the tree was going to land. Dief sprang to his feet and bolted out of the way by a hair's breath.

"I'm sorry, Dief," Ray shouted from the other side of the tree, grateful for its presence because he could tell the wolf was angry from the way Dief was barking and growling. "I said I'm sorry," Ray continued. "You don't really think I had any control over this piece of kindling, did you?"

Diefenbaker gave a final growl and disappeared into the brush.

"Okay, I've had enough. Quitting time." He pulled his feet from the mud and weaved his way towards where Fraser was working. A perfectly arranged pile of trunks, all neatly trimmed, were beside him. Ray sighed and looked back at his one lone tree trunk.

"I don't understand why they don't have electricity up here yet. The US is at least twice the size and we got it everywhere. What good's the power saw I bought you if you don't have electricity?" he commented more to himself than to anyone else. He finally went to look for Fraser. "What's to eat, Benny?" he called out. "I'm starving."

Suddenly a tree came sailing down towards him amidst the shout of timber. Ray dived out of the way, flinging himself face down into the mud as the tree crashed twenty feet away.

"Ray, I'm terribly sorry. I didn't see you standing there." Fraser leaned down and helped Ray stand. Diefenbaker was nearby, watching Ray's antics and enjoying every moment.

Ray pointed at Dief. "That was his idea, wasn't it?"

Fraser looked at the innocent-looking wolf, who was wagging his tail. "What? No, Ray, it was just an accident."

"I'm not cut out for this kind of life, Fraser," Ray decided while wiping off as much of the mud as possible. He hardly made a dent. "I thought I'd be good at this stuff, you know, being woodsy. Especially since I saved our bacons when the plane went down. But I was wrong. I just want to go back to Chicago where it's safe."

"Now Ray, it's only your first day out. You're just having an anxiety attack. Though I have to admit I'm surprised at your sudden reluctance. After all, this annual outing was your idea."

"I am not having an anxiety attack. And besides, I was delirious with exhaustion then. You can't hold me to anything I said."

"You'll feel better after a meal," Fraser assured his friend.

Ray looked at him dubiously. "It's not gonna be beaver jerky or some other dried animal, is it?"

"That was only for the hike up. I wanted to get here before dark."

"It's going to be something weird, though, isn't it?" Ray queried worriedly.

Fraser raised a contemplative eyebrow. "Define weird," he requested.

"Moose, caribou, anything that normal people can't buy in Chicago."

"Well, actually, Ray, there is a small gourmet grocery store down on Adams Street that sells canned moose."

"Leave it to you to track a moose in downtown Chicago." Ray flung up his hands in disbelief.

A third voice commented from behind Fraser. "There are no moose in Chicago. What kind of a moron is he?"

Fraser turned to find his deceased father, dressed in his brilliant red RCMP uniform. His chance at an enjoyable outing just vanished. "Not you," Fraser sighed.

"Of course, not me," an oblivious Ray cried out. "You wouldn't catch me eating moose in a can. Give me some pasta fazool anytime."

"He wouldn't know what to do with a moose even if he managed to bring one down," his father critiqued, eyeing Ray with disappointment.

Fraser, still concentrating on his father, stuck up for Ray. "A man from the city shouldn't be expected to know how to field dress wild game."

"That's right," Ray said. "There's no reason for any sane Italian to know what to do with a moose."

Robert Fraser moved over behind Ray. "He wouldn't survive ten minutes out here in the Territory."

"It doesn't take long to learn some simple survival skills," Fraser said.

"I don't need to know what to do with a moose," Ray told Fraser. "Just teach me how to make a fire with two sticks and I'll be happy."

Fraser, feeling a headache coming on, shook his head and went to where the early shape of a cabin stood in the clearing to prepare a meal that wouldn't disappoint Ray and to escape the ranting of his ethereal father.

A wood stove was still faintly glowing around the small band of men as evening enveloped the Territory. The three men reclined on the floor of the cabin, well sated after a meal of smoked salmon and fresh vegetables, which Fraser had traded for with a family of Inuit on the way up to the cabin. They had eaten late, but that was because it took some time for Ray to get the hang of starting a fire. But when he did, he took immense pride in the flickering flames.

There was no roof yet on the structure, and the brilliance of the stars lit the skies above them. Off to the side was a brand new toilet and sink that they had yet to install. Fraser had no idea how he was going to do it, but they were a gift from Ray while he was recuperating in the hospital. He was waiting for his father to make a comment on them.

"Now that was a fine meal. Do you know what salmon goes for in a good Chicago restaurant?" Ray commented drowsily from across the room. He was already zipped up tight in his sleeping bag and on the verge of an exhausted sleep.

"I imagine it would be very expensive, Ray."

"That's right. You surprised me, Benny, you really did. Who would have thought there was actually real food out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"It did smell good, son," Fraser's father added, leaning back against a beam of the cabin wall. He patted a swelled stomach for good measure.

Fraser glanced at him with a dubious eye. "How would you know?"

Ray took offense. "Just because I eat a lot of fast food doesn't mean I don't know class when I taste it."

Fraser looked back in confusion at Ray, who turned over with difficulty and drifted off to sleep. He returned his attention to his father and spoke quietly. "I mean, you're dead. How can you be full? You didn't eat anything."

Fraser Sr. shrugged. "Sometimes just smelling it fills me up like a bloated seal. Must be the vapors." He looked over at his son and got down to the real business why he had showed up. "So tell me why you wanted to rebuild the cabin. I thought you didn't like it."

Fraser turned away, a sad expression creasing his features. "I never said I didn't like the cabin. It just reminded me of things I'd rather not remember, that's all." Fraser felt the familiar sting of pain.

It wasn't as bad as it used to be, but it drew a sharp intake of breath from him nonetheless.

"It wasn't me, was it?"

"No, dad, not you." Fraser answered quietly.

"Oh. You mean her."

Fraser nodded.

"Well, boy, you need to get over that woman. It's been with you for far too long. Time to let it go. A good Mountie can't carry that kind of baggage around with him, especially not a Fraser."

"It's not that easy to forget."

"Poppycock! It's as easy as a beaver sawing through wood."

"It takes a beaver some time to cut down a good-size tree."

"That's not the point, son. You just need to get back in the saddle, so to speak. You've been in that city for far too long. You need to get back to basics."

Fraser sighed at his father's list of cliches. "That's sort of why we're here. Ray thought it would be good for me to come home for awhile. He claims I get moody when I'm too long in Chicago. I'm also trying to get him to feel more comfortable up here. He really has a passion for the great outdoors; it's just that no one ever took the time to show him what to do."

"So Nanook of the North actually had a good idea. Well, teach him some survival skills as quick as you can. You'd probably take it personally if something happened to him. And you certainly don't need any more angst. Lord knows where you got it all from. It must have come from your mother's side because I certainly don't have any."

Fraser shook his head and settled himself on the floor. "Good night, dad."

"Good night, son."

The next morning was a bright, sunny day and eventually the temperature soared to above fifty degrees. Fraser and Ray were lifting their fourth cross tie beam with rope and pulleys. Ray tied off his rope, and Fraser did the same before climbing nimbly up the side of the structure to swing the new beam into place. Ray eased off the pressure on his rope as Fraser guided it into position.

Ray glanced around to see if Diefenbaker was lurking behind him. Ray believed the wolf still bore ill-will towards the detective. However, the wolf was gone when they awoke and had not yet returned.

Suddenly, a figure came running down out of the woods and into the open field. Upon seeing the cabin he veered in their direction. Fraser hammered the last nail into the beam and slid down to greet the stranger.

The man was red-faced and out of breath. His clothes were disheveled and torn. He nearly fell to the ground when Ray grabbed him.

"My wife . . . a bear . . . attacked!" he gasped out. "She fell . . . there was a cliff."

"Slow down, catch your breath," Ray instructed, easing the man down to the ground.

Fraser offered a canteen of water. "Where was this?" he asked.

"Don't know. The bear came after me . . . I just ran. We have to go back."

Ray stood up. "Oh great," he murmured. "A man-eating bear, just what I need."

Fraser either didn't hear him or ignored him, knowing that Ray didn't really mean what he said. "We'll need Diefenbaker. Cover your ears," Fraser warned.

A shrill whistle erupted from Fraser's lips, piercing Ray's eardrums even through his cupped hands. With a grimace and squinting eyes, Ray commented, "Far be it from me to state the obvious, but Dief's deaf."

Fraser looked complacently at him. "Yes, Ray, I know."

"Well then what makes you think he's gonna hear that?"

"Well, you're right, he won't hear it," Fraser agreed as Ray put on an 'I'm finally right' kind of look. Then Fraser nodded his head to the left, "but they will."

Ray turned to see a pack of seven wolves loping towards the cabin. Diefenbaker was among them. Ray jumped behind Fraser. "Good Lord, Dief's brought his buddies to finish the job."

Fraser explained. "He tends to run with this pack when we're here. They know the whistle and when they react, Diefenbaker knows the reason."

The pack came to an abrupt stop a hundred feet distant from the cabin while Diefenbaker continued on, finally coming to rest at Fraser's feet and watching him quizzically.

"There's been a bear attack, Diefenbaker. A woman's missing." Fraser then turned to the hiker who was now more petrified than ever. Never in his life had he seen anything like what was transpiring before him. "Sir, do you have anything of your wife's with you?" The man shook his head. "Than perhaps something of yours. That hat will do."

The man removed his hat and handed it to Fraser, who lowered it to Diefenbaker. "Be careful," Fraser said to his short compatriot. Dief barked once and sprinted away. The rest of the pack chased after him.

The hiker sidled up to Ray who looked as disturbed by the occurrences as he was. "Are they trained?" indicating the fast moving shapes disappearing over the rise.

Ray glanced at him and then started laughing. "Trained? All I know is that his wolf is deaf and the lip reading ability is self-taught." The man's expression went from bad to worse. Ray took pity on him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "He'll find your wife," he assured the man, indicating Fraser. "He's a Mountie. He once tracked a Lincoln Town Car across Chinatown back in Chicago. Lucky you, found the one man who has a snowball's chance in hell." Ray was puzzled when the man didn't find that reassuring.

Fraser had disappeared into the cabin's skeleton and brought out a compass and a boot knife which he slid home and then flung a small knapsack onto his shoulders.

Ray's and the hiker's eyes widened simultaneously. "Is that all you're gonna take?" Ray shouted.

Fraser glanced up. "I believe I have all that is necessary for the task. What else would you suggest I take?"

"How about a bazooka?"

Fraser frowned. "I sincerely doubt that will come in handy."

"Against a wild, mad grizzly bear? You're wrong. A bazooka will definitely come in handy."

"We're not certain the bear is mad, Ray. There are a number of reasons for a Kodiak to attack. There have been reports of poachers in the area. Perhaps the bear is wounded." Fraser looked up at the hiker quizzically for confirmation.

The man merely shrugged. "I didn't have time to examine the bear that closely. I was running for my life."

Ray emerged from the cabin with an enormous rifle and a huge backpack. He checked to make sure the weapon was loaded and stood next to Fraser. "Okay, now we're ready."

Fraser moved quickly up to the rise and paused as he waited for Ray. His friend was laboring under the heavy pack which he thought so important to bring. Fraser's eyes lifted to take in the man back at the cabin site. The figure stood there watching them a moment more before walking into the remnants of the structure.

Ray staggered at Fraser's feet. "Are we there yet?" he prayed breathlessly.

"What exactly do you have in there?" Fraser asked, indicating the backpack.

"Well, I wish it was a bazooka, but in place of that how about some TNT?"

Fraser's eyes widened. "Are you asking me or telling me that you're carrying high explosives?"

Ray's grin was cheshire-like as he looked up at his friend. "As much as I'm scared out of my wits at tracking a man-eating bear, I'm more disturbed at leaving weapons with a perfect stranger. So I took all the guns and brought them with me. We'll hide them as soon as we're out of sight." Ray laughed at Fraser's astonished expression. "I've impressed you, I think."

"I'm just amazed at your forethought, Ray."

"You know, sometimes I amaze even myself."

"Though I still fail to understand why you thought it necessary to smuggle them into the country in the first place."

"They came in handy when Gerrard and his goons came after you. I didn't hear you complaining then. And when we crashed in the plane we could've used a ton more ammo and just maybe I wouldn't have had to use the boa."

"Bola," Fraser corrected. "But then you would never have made that remarkable shot."

"That's true though no one saw it except me. But I still would've rather shot him. Less terror in my book. So this time I came prepared again. And don't even think of arresting me," he warned.

Fraser sighed. "But you forgot the bazooka," he pointed out with a glint of humor in his eyes.

Ray narrowed his eyes. "I'll know better next time, and thank you so much for reminding me."

Hours later, with much of the contents of Ray's pack well hidden, Fraser paused in his tracking. Ray sank to the ground. The pack was still heavy. Fraser knelt by some muddy prints, or at least that's what Ray supposed they were as the detective studied them as intently as Fraser. It just looked like churned up mud to Ray.

"Hmmmm," Fraser murmured.

Ray felt a twinge of anxiety. Fraser's "hmm's" were never a good sign. It usually meant something was wrong. "What?!"

"Nothing, Ray," Fraser answered in that annoyingly innocent tone.

"Oh, don't give that. You found something, and you just won't tell me because you're afraid I'm going to panic or something."

"It's just rather odd, that's all."

"What? What's odd?!"

Fraser looked behind him. Ray spun to follow his gaze. Fraser then calmly returned his scrutiny to the tracks. Ray studied them with him, panic growing by the minute.

"It appears as if . . . It's just that . . . He was traveling in a straight line directly for the cabin. That's not the pattern of a frightened man running for his life."

Ray sighed with relief. "Is that all? Look, maybe this guy just saw the smoke from our fire this morning and followed it."

Fraser relaxed, standing upright. "Yes, of course. You're right, Ray," he said, smiling.

"Good. Now let's go find this woman in distress and still try to avoid the bear. That's all I'm asking for here."

"Of course, Ray. You don't ask for much."

"Damn right, I don't."

Another hour later, Fraser stopped again. As much as Ray was grateful, for Fraser's pace was murderous, he dreaded the reason. He friend had that look again. The one that said something wasn't quite right and the doubt was eating away at him.

"Now what?" Ray urged, setting himself on a fallen log.

"I don't recall a wedding band," Fraser said hesitatingly, his eyes distant. He refocused on Ray. "The man wasn't wearing a wedding ring. He has a wife but no ring."

Ray threw up his hands, accepting the fact he was cursed to play devil's advocate. "You are such a traditionalist. Not every man wears a wedding ring."

"Did you?"

"Of course, I did. I'm a traditionalist. Besides, Angie would have boiled me alive in a pasta pot if I hadn't. But that's not the point. Maybe he just took it off for hiking. Didn't want to lose it. Sometimes that's more dangerous than not ever wearing one."

Fraser sighed, nodding his head. "You're right again, Ray. I'm afraid I'm just being paranoid."

"Fraser, you're never paranoid. You've got a hunch. Listen to it. Whatever you do, don't listen to me. Our big concern right now, besides avoiding the bear, is first, finding out if this man is lying, second, rescue his wife if she does exist and three, get back to the cabin so I can beat the crap out of the guy if two turns out to be a wild goose chase."

"Understood." Fraser pointed. "Diefenbaker's trail leads that way."

"Is the Wild Bunch still with him?" Ray asked, referring to the wolf pack.

"Yes, but not for much longer; we are reaching the edge of their territory." Fraser pressed on.

"I wish my territory ended right here. I should have stayed in Chicago," Ray mumbled as he doggedly followed Fraser.

Fraser was kneeling beside a stream bed while Ray relaxed nearby. Ray stretched out a leg which throbbed with fatigue. He stiffened when he heard a rustling in the forest beside him.

"Fraser," he whispered, but Fraser just waved a hand at him and continued prodding the mud at his feet. Ray hefted his rifle and peered into the deep green foliage. He was greeted by a warm nose and a wet tongue. Only years of training prevented him from depressing the trigger.

"Damn wolf! You did that on purpose!"

Diefenbaker bounded past Ray and ran up to Fraser, whining and then barking furiously. He leaped further up the trail.

"He's found her!" Fraser shouted, racing after the wolf.

"Fraser, wait! What about the bear?" Ray struggled to his feet and ran after the two, praying under his breath. "Please don't let there be a bear. Please don't let there be a bear."

Fraser ran to the cliff side where Diefenbaker was standing. "Hello! Can anyone hear me?" Even straining as he was, he could not see over the edge.

Ray ran up beside him but did not step as close to the precipice. "Anything?"

Fraser shook his head. "She could be unconscious."

Ray lifted his eyebrows in doubt. If anyone fell off this cliff, it would be a miracle if they survived. "Are we sure this is the place?" It was a hell of a drop.

"Diefenbaker seems to think so." Fraser spun slowly around, his eyes scanning the ground about him. "There are footprints around, but no bear tracks. In fact, there hasn't been any bear sign the entire way here," he commented.

"Oh, thank God," Ray said. "No bears." Ray then contemplated the ramifications of that fact. "So if there was no bear, what do you think happened here?"

Fraser was silent a moment, watching Ray. Finally, he spoke. "Murder."

Ray frowned. The thought had crossed his mind. "But why would he want us to come find her?"

"Maybe he didn't," Fraser answered. "Maybe he was just hoping for us to get him off the mountain and back up his story."

"And you in your enthusiasm decide the two of us can rescue her. Remind me when we get back to the cabin to beat the crap out of this guy right after I knock some sense into you."

Fraser didn't answer but reverted his gaze back to the cliff's edge. "We have to make sure."

"Are you crazy?! Wait a minute, never mind. Of course, you're crazy. What was I thinking? How are we gonna make sure? We can't even see the bottom."

"Well no, not from up here." Fraser was unpacking a rope from his pack.

"Yep, you're crazy."

"We have to make sure, Ray. We can't just leave if there's even a chance she's alive. Besides, we can't accuse a man of murder without evidence."

"Well, don't all these prints tell you anything?"

"Yes." Fraser related the story of the tracks. "There were two people here. One is the man we've been back-tracking, and the other print is smaller, delicate like a child or a woman. They were both by the cliff's edge. The man walked away alone in that direction." Fraser pointed in the direction they had just come. "Hers stop here. She could still be alive, Ray."

"If she is, then she's made of rubber," Ray commented, peering at the drop-off.

Fraser tied one end of the rope about a tree and the other he flung off the side of the cliff. There were knots in the rope about every foot or so. Fraser looked down and for a moment realized the danger. He wished his father would show up for just a second. Then he could send him down for a safe look. But his father was never that convenient. He always showed when Fraser least wanted him.

Fraser glanced at Ray, who still clutched his rifle like it was his sole salvation. He turned to the wolf sitting patiently. "Diefenbaker, go scout for some sign of this bear. If there was one, there's got to be a sign somewhere." Ray looked slightly more at ease as Dief vanished into the green.

Ray called after him. "If you find him, whatever you do, don't bring him back here!" Then he remembered the wolf was deaf. "Damn it, you should have told him that."

"I won't be long, Ray. I just want to see the bottom." Fraser eased himself over the edge.

"What should I do?" Ray asked frantically, not liking this scenario one bit, but knew also it was necessary. Fraser's curiosity was like a cat. There was no stopping him.

"Watch out for bears," came the reply from Fraser's disappearing form, "and hope they're not hungry."

"Ha, ha," Ray said, crawling over to the edge and peering over, but he couldn't discern Fraser. "Well, see anything?" Ray called out.

"Nothing yet," Fraser's distant voice answered. "I have to get past this lower overhang."

Suddenly Ray heard a sound from behind him.

"Of all the people I had to run into up here. I have to find a goddamn Mountie who's got half the wolf population acting as his personal trackers."

Ray spun around to find the man from the cabin pointing a pistol at him.

"Drop the rifle," the man commanded.

"You won't get away with it, you know that?" Ray said, but complied with the order.

"It wasn't supposed to go down this way. I didn't mean . . ." He stopped speaking abruptly, his eyes narrowing dangerously once again. "It doesn't matter. She's gone and no one will believe it was an accident."

"You're right there, pal," Ray commented bluntly, only to realize that he had made a grievous error. He tried to be sympathetic anyway. "Look, if it was an accident, why didn't you just say so? Why concoct this bear story?"

The man licked his lips nervously. "Because I did shove her. I shoved her off the cliff."

"That doesn't quite sound like an accident to me." The man's expression shifted quickly to anger. Ray held up his hands as the man aimed the pistol. "Whoa, wait a minute! I believe you! I believe you! It was an accident. I understand. You had to emphasize your point. You got a little physical. Who would have thought there'd be a cliff right here where you were arguing!"

The anger didn't leave the man's face. Ray cursed his ever-present sarcasm. Why couldn't he say the right thing? Fraser would have already been lulling this man into a stupor with some Inuit story of a small boy with a bone-tipped spear trapped with an abandoned seal pup.

Ray inched away from the cliff, but the man stopped him. "Uh-huh. The bottom of that cliff is about to get real crowded."

Ray was desperate. "Look, did I ever tell you the one about the Inuit kid and the abandoned seal . . . ?"

The man leveled the pistol as Ray spun around. The man was going to kill him. He had to get away and return to help Fraser. He felt the weight of his pack. He doubted the pistol could shoot through it, packed as it was. The pistol wasn't of a heavy caliber. If he could only make it to the woods, he'd have a chance. He ran shouting, "Fraser, it's an ambush!"

He felt two slugs hit the backpack but he kept going. The minute he was in the woods, he shed the pack and escaped deeper into the dense underbrush. If he could just lead the man away from Fraser . . .