For the first time, he started to think that this might be the beginning of that dreaded thing called a midlife crisis. If so, then he’d spectacularly overestimated himself. His plan had been to hike out far enough with his pack and guns to find a blind somewhere and wait for game, and then return to the truck before dark to set up camp. But right now, he was seriously considering just heading home and never speaking of this trip to anyone. Maybe, if he drank enough, he could convince himself it had never happened at all.

That was when he came across the bear tracks.

They were no more than a few hours old, he was sure of that. Big, too, judging by the size of the paws and the length of the creature’s stride. Probably over 600 pounds, and in a black bear that was pretty rare. Pete removed his rifle from his pack and made sure there were rounds in the chamber, and then he slogged through the deeper snow to a tree where the bear had paused to scratch himself. The marks on the bark were nearly seven feet off the ground. Full-grown male, and a monstrous son of a bitch at that. He mentally increased his size estimate to 700 pounds plus. Curious that he wasn’t hibernating at this time of the winter.

Pete felt the old tingle coming back. God, how he would love to bag a bear even bigger than Dana’s trophy. A bear that big would be impossible to drag home, but he could saw off its head with his bowie knife and get that back to the truck without much trouble. He scanned the woods, looking for evidence of the bear’s presence. At that size it was almost certainly a male, which was good, since females could have cubs, and with cubs they became a lot more unpredictable. You did not want to piss off the females, which, Pete thought, was a pretty good rule for any species, come to think of it.

The tracks continued through a break in the trees up ahead, and Pete followed them as quietly as possible, rifle at the ready. He did not want to get too far from the logging path, but there was no sign of a storm coming, and it would be easy enough to track his footprints back to where he started. Following the prints made him think of how each person followed their life’s path, and whether that path was already set for them from the start. Had his path always included divorce? What if he stepped away from it and chose something different? Would the footprints change, would they lead him to another place? Or would he be forced back around again to the same result, nothing more than a pawn in a much larger game?