skill for M.C. was flinging the rock with all of his force and hitting the mark. He had done it. He knocked out the eye, leaving a bloody hole. Still the possum would not move. They came swiftly and crushed its head.
Then take the knife, M.C. thought. Bleed it at the throat with a deep twist.
Possum was as simple as it could be, once you found it. But finding its trail might take a whole day.
Moving to his left now, M.C. reached the gully where it began at the foot of the plateau. He raced through it and over its lip into the trees bordering. He stopped, with Ben coming up to stand close behind him. They spoke not a word, but they saw the light slowly moving, edging down through the trees at the foot of the hill above the gully.
It was M.C.’s plan to get behind the light. Working his way soundlessly forward, he swung to his right. He crossed behind the light now in the trees in front of him. Suddenly the light flicked off.
He stood still, his body slightly bowed, in order to fall quickly into a crouch if she suddenly turned around and shone the light. His arms hung loosely at his sides.
I’ll wait for the beam.
He did wait. Darkness was complete around him. Ben was near, close to his back.
M.C. had no idea whether the girl was still in front of him, near the edge of the gully.
She in back of us? Turn on that light one more time. Has she heard me coming?
He couldn’t stand the waiting. Half against his will, he started forward into the trees. Ben sucked in his breath, a slithering sound, as if to warn M.C. to stand and wait. But M.C. couldn’t. She, whoever she was, had come this far.
How you know it’s her?
He had lured her, like a deer caught by a delicious scent.
Has to be her, he thought. And he had to go meet her.
Is it a hunt?
M.C. touched branches, prickly pine boughs, with the fingers of one hand. Blinded by darkness, he walked slowly enough to remove his foot from a dry twig before it could snap. His right hand nested in the fur in his pocket. He felt the keen knife blade, warmed in its fur jacket by his own body heat.
Suddenly he stopped, sensing that darkness was itself a hunter and had turned on him.
Blindly, he looked up until his face pointed skyward. There were stars giving off a soft winking blue and cold white. He lowered his head, and at every stage he could still see the stars. Sarah’s Mountain would have blotted out the stars at that angle of his head.
I’m facing the hill across from Sarah’s!
But the clue had been in the climbing movement of his feet.
M.C. reached behind him for Ben. He found his forearm and held onto it. He turned them both 180 degrees, carefully, until they were facing the mountain.
Letting go of Ben, he started forward again. His skin came alive with the chill of premonition. He was going the right way now. His feet were level; his hearing caught the slightest sound. Always when he hunted sure, his senses seemed newborn.
M.C. stepped onto the barren lip of the gully without a sound; and yet he knew it at once by its hard surface.
Wouldn’t have crossed, he thought. Leave herself in a trap—hear her every move. She’d wait on the other side. Can’t know I’m here to catch her, can she? She won’t know about sound and traps—or would she? She won’t know anything for sure . . . if she needs a light.
Resignedly, he stood in the open at the gully edge, the trees and Ben behind him.
I forget. Some of them know how to lure you, too.
She not any kind of deer.
A faint clicking sound and M.C. was blinded by white light from the midst of the gully.
He threw up his arm as a shield. And in a crouch, he leaped for the light. It flicked off while he was in motion. M.C. landed on his feet but pitched forward, hitting the ground on his shoulder and hip. He slid crazily on sharp rocks. Pain made him turn over onto his back.
Light shone down on him.
Something began to jingle and rattle, the sound going around him in a slow, eerie rhythm.
She wore
Then take the knife, M.C. thought. Bleed it at the throat with a deep twist.
Possum was as simple as it could be, once you found it. But finding its trail might take a whole day.
Moving to his left now, M.C. reached the gully where it began at the foot of the plateau. He raced through it and over its lip into the trees bordering. He stopped, with Ben coming up to stand close behind him. They spoke not a word, but they saw the light slowly moving, edging down through the trees at the foot of the hill above the gully.
It was M.C.’s plan to get behind the light. Working his way soundlessly forward, he swung to his right. He crossed behind the light now in the trees in front of him. Suddenly the light flicked off.
He stood still, his body slightly bowed, in order to fall quickly into a crouch if she suddenly turned around and shone the light. His arms hung loosely at his sides.
I’ll wait for the beam.
He did wait. Darkness was complete around him. Ben was near, close to his back.
M.C. had no idea whether the girl was still in front of him, near the edge of the gully.
She in back of us? Turn on that light one more time. Has she heard me coming?
He couldn’t stand the waiting. Half against his will, he started forward into the trees. Ben sucked in his breath, a slithering sound, as if to warn M.C. to stand and wait. But M.C. couldn’t. She, whoever she was, had come this far.
How you know it’s her?
He had lured her, like a deer caught by a delicious scent.
Has to be her, he thought. And he had to go meet her.
Is it a hunt?
M.C. touched branches, prickly pine boughs, with the fingers of one hand. Blinded by darkness, he walked slowly enough to remove his foot from a dry twig before it could snap. His right hand nested in the fur in his pocket. He felt the keen knife blade, warmed in its fur jacket by his own body heat.
Suddenly he stopped, sensing that darkness was itself a hunter and had turned on him.
Blindly, he looked up until his face pointed skyward. There were stars giving off a soft winking blue and cold white. He lowered his head, and at every stage he could still see the stars. Sarah’s Mountain would have blotted out the stars at that angle of his head.
I’m facing the hill across from Sarah’s!
But the clue had been in the climbing movement of his feet.
M.C. reached behind him for Ben. He found his forearm and held onto it. He turned them both 180 degrees, carefully, until they were facing the mountain.
Letting go of Ben, he started forward again. His skin came alive with the chill of premonition. He was going the right way now. His feet were level; his hearing caught the slightest sound. Always when he hunted sure, his senses seemed newborn.
M.C. stepped onto the barren lip of the gully without a sound; and yet he knew it at once by its hard surface.
Wouldn’t have crossed, he thought. Leave herself in a trap—hear her every move. She’d wait on the other side. Can’t know I’m here to catch her, can she? She won’t know about sound and traps—or would she? She won’t know anything for sure . . . if she needs a light.
Resignedly, he stood in the open at the gully edge, the trees and Ben behind him.
I forget. Some of them know how to lure you, too.
She not any kind of deer.
A faint clicking sound and M.C. was blinded by white light from the midst of the gully.
He threw up his arm as a shield. And in a crouch, he leaped for the light. It flicked off while he was in motion. M.C. landed on his feet but pitched forward, hitting the ground on his shoulder and hip. He slid crazily on sharp rocks. Pain made him turn over onto his back.
Light shone down on him.
Something began to jingle and rattle, the sound going around him in a slow, eerie rhythm.
She wore
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