Moving as slowly as humanly possible, he eased his hand down to his gun belt and pulled his Sig Sauer. There was no way to unsling his rifle without significant body movement, which would certainly make the animal charge. It would be upon him in one bound. He searched his database of survival training on encounters with mountain lions. Never run was at the forefront of his memory.

Now less than two body lengths away, the animal kept coming. Being concealed in his ghillie suit didn’t matter. The cat’s eyes weren’t guiding it.

Something else shot through his mind. Movement. The cat was a damning source of movement, and movement is what catches the eye.

* * *

From deep shadow on the south rim of the canyon, Leonard followed the lion through his rifle scope and smiled. It seemed to be following an invisible scent. Quite possibly his opponent. He watched the animal pace the length of a fallen log and approach the edge of a dry streambed that fed the larger stream in the middle of the canyon. It froze for a few seconds before stepping out into the sand.

* * *

If Nathan were going to shoot this lion, he’d better do it within the next two seconds while he still had the angle to manage the shot from the hip. If he wasn’t precise with his aim, he could easily blow a hole in his own foot. Damn it, he didn’t want to kill such a magnificent predator. In many ways, they were just alike, but his own survival and that of Harv’s took priority. He also knew as soon as he pulled the trigger his cover was blown because if his first shot wasn’t fatal or severely crippling, he’d have to shoot the animal a second time, and possibly a third. The first report would alert Leonard to his general location, but the second and third reports would pinpoint him. He might was well stand up and wave a flag.

Both his options were equally unpleasant.

He could lie here and be mauled to death, literally eaten alive or he could shoot the cat, and in turn be shot himself. All things being equal, he preferred the second option, but it had already expired. The animal was directly beside him now, he no longer had the angle to shoot it.

He heard the sound of its paws on the sand.

He buried his face into his shoulder and stopped breathing. If he played dead, maybe it would lose interest and move on. Deep down, he knew it was wishful thinking. A mountain lion will just as soon scavenge for food than hunt it.

The cat brought its face to within inches of Nathan’s head.

Its hot breath penetrated the strips of his ghillie suit and brushed the skin on his neck.