carry it. "It takes a lot of practice," she said. "I learned how to do it when I was a kid."
"I'll bet. So what have you tracked before?"
"Bear, cougar, coyote, wolf, elk – just about everything."
"And lately?"
"Lately," she said, looking into his eyes without discernible emotion, "I've tracked and killed men, Mr. Hunter."
Hunter studied her a moment. He knew he wouldn't really be able to tell anything until he saw what she could do in the field; whether she could read the age of a track, how delicately she observed everything else as they moved, how alert she was to the forest itself. But she obviously knew the basics.
"Okay," he said. "One last question. How can you tell if you're close to a snake when you can't see it?"
Her eyes narrowed. "You ... you can ..."
He waited patiently. From the corner of his eye he saw Takakura's hard gaze trade between the two of them. Then Bobbi Jo replied, un-intimidated, "I don't know, Mr. Hunter."
A nod, and Hunter tightened the strap on the rifle. "You can lead with me." He turned to Takakura. "Just keep your men far enough back not to mar tracks before I can study them. Is that good enough for you?"
Takakura nodded. "Most acceptable. But we shall remain close, in case of a confrontation."
"Let's go," Hunter said to Bobbi Jo, and moved down the slope. She was close behind him, placing her steps carefully. They were halfway to the base when she spoke again.
"So how can I tell if I'm close to a snake?"
Hunter lifted his head to the forest.
"It tells you."
* * *
Chapter 5
As they descended the slope it seemed unseasonably hot—a blinding sun blazing in a sky beyond blue—and Hunter felt his blood whitening with adrenaline as he tracked claw marks on stone.
By the time he and Ghost reached the base of the ravine he had already regressed to a pure and primal state of being. He was only dimly aware of Bobbi Jo moving quietly a few steps behind him.
He knew the others were farther back, letting him do his job, holding him with a measure of contempt because they believed no one could do this job as well as the military. But it was enough that they moved without speaking because animals—including their prey—would instantly pick up the alien sounds. And in this terrestrial environment the sound of a soft human voice would have the same effect as a shotgun blast.
No, they had to move as silently as possible if he was going to pick up anything from the forest itself. But he felt slight reassurance because of Takakura s presence. The team leader seemed ready to give unqualified cooperation. For now.
At the base of the slope, Hunter raised a hand and Bobbi Jo stopped, crouching quietly. Then Hunter himself crouched, studying the muddy ground, measuring its solidity, its composition, water-grade level—a dozen elements that would reveal to him a great deal more when he found this things prints.
Overall there was little growth in the area, only scattered vegetation. Scanning, he found a slight pool of water as large as his foot. But only one: a single depression. He placed a hand down to feel the slight ridges concealed by the muddy water.
It was the right age for a track; maybe a day. But the water had already eroded what was important so he would have to go without a direction. Bobbi Jo was moving so silently behind him, despite her boots, that he had almost forgotten she was there. He turned, motioned for her to move to the left, and he moved to the right. Together, twenty feet apart, they entered a long, wide glade covered with tall grass.
It took Hunter five minutes to find the second track angling on slightly higher ground. But it, too, was in poor condition from drainage. It was covered with leaves and he almost missed it but for the deep slicing of claw marks left in the harder soil. Those had not been eradicated by the storm and remained readable.
He turned, looking still and straight at Bobbi Jo, waiting to see if she would peripherally catch his sudden
"I'll bet. So what have you tracked before?"
"Bear, cougar, coyote, wolf, elk – just about everything."
"And lately?"
"Lately," she said, looking into his eyes without discernible emotion, "I've tracked and killed men, Mr. Hunter."
Hunter studied her a moment. He knew he wouldn't really be able to tell anything until he saw what she could do in the field; whether she could read the age of a track, how delicately she observed everything else as they moved, how alert she was to the forest itself. But she obviously knew the basics.
"Okay," he said. "One last question. How can you tell if you're close to a snake when you can't see it?"
Her eyes narrowed. "You ... you can ..."
He waited patiently. From the corner of his eye he saw Takakura's hard gaze trade between the two of them. Then Bobbi Jo replied, un-intimidated, "I don't know, Mr. Hunter."
A nod, and Hunter tightened the strap on the rifle. "You can lead with me." He turned to Takakura. "Just keep your men far enough back not to mar tracks before I can study them. Is that good enough for you?"
Takakura nodded. "Most acceptable. But we shall remain close, in case of a confrontation."
"Let's go," Hunter said to Bobbi Jo, and moved down the slope. She was close behind him, placing her steps carefully. They were halfway to the base when she spoke again.
"So how can I tell if I'm close to a snake?"
Hunter lifted his head to the forest.
"It tells you."
* * *
Chapter 5
As they descended the slope it seemed unseasonably hot—a blinding sun blazing in a sky beyond blue—and Hunter felt his blood whitening with adrenaline as he tracked claw marks on stone.
By the time he and Ghost reached the base of the ravine he had already regressed to a pure and primal state of being. He was only dimly aware of Bobbi Jo moving quietly a few steps behind him.
He knew the others were farther back, letting him do his job, holding him with a measure of contempt because they believed no one could do this job as well as the military. But it was enough that they moved without speaking because animals—including their prey—would instantly pick up the alien sounds. And in this terrestrial environment the sound of a soft human voice would have the same effect as a shotgun blast.
No, they had to move as silently as possible if he was going to pick up anything from the forest itself. But he felt slight reassurance because of Takakura s presence. The team leader seemed ready to give unqualified cooperation. For now.
At the base of the slope, Hunter raised a hand and Bobbi Jo stopped, crouching quietly. Then Hunter himself crouched, studying the muddy ground, measuring its solidity, its composition, water-grade level—a dozen elements that would reveal to him a great deal more when he found this things prints.
Overall there was little growth in the area, only scattered vegetation. Scanning, he found a slight pool of water as large as his foot. But only one: a single depression. He placed a hand down to feel the slight ridges concealed by the muddy water.
It was the right age for a track; maybe a day. But the water had already eroded what was important so he would have to go without a direction. Bobbi Jo was moving so silently behind him, despite her boots, that he had almost forgotten she was there. He turned, motioned for her to move to the left, and he moved to the right. Together, twenty feet apart, they entered a long, wide glade covered with tall grass.
It took Hunter five minutes to find the second track angling on slightly higher ground. But it, too, was in poor condition from drainage. It was covered with leaves and he almost missed it but for the deep slicing of claw marks left in the harder soil. Those had not been eradicated by the storm and remained readable.
He turned, looking still and straight at Bobbi Jo, waiting to see if she would peripherally catch his sudden
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