A shrill yell
pierced the air. What the hell? Was he under attack from some Indians after
all? The Blackfoot didn’t winter in these mountains. Had some of them returned
early? It seemed highly unlikely. Loud curse words that would rival the most
hardened mountain man drifted through the woods. Definitely not Injuns. Using
the cover of the trees, Lucas made his way silently toward whoever was making
all that racket.
The loud
rustling of leaves in the brush and predatory snarls reached his ears. Lucas
threw caution to the wind and ran between the trees, his hand firmly gripping
his knife. The vicious snapping of a jaw sent an unexpected wave of dread down
his spine. He’d heard that sound only
once before, a long time ago when he was out hunting with his father and
brother. He’d much rather tangle with a bear, or even a cougar, than the animal
he knew with absolute certainty he would face any moment. Common sense told him
to run the other way.
When has common sense ever stopped you before?