Rio wiped his hand over his face, suddenly weary. It was over. He didn’t have to take another life. For once the isolation of his existence was inviting. He wanted to lie down and listen to the rain, to sleep. Be grateful he was alive for one more day. He tucked the binoculars into his pack, his movements slow and easy, careful not to draw attention. His signal sent Fritz crawling backward out of the tangle of roots, deeper into the timberline. The small leopards blended perfectly with the leaves and jungle floor. It was nearly impossible to spot them.

Lightning flashed directly overhead, the clap of thunder booming through the forest. Rio didn’t know if it was the thunder or the cats that startled a fully grown bearded pig into crashing through the undergrowth. At once the sky erupted with bursts of red flames, a stream of bullets bridging the river and blasting into the network of roots. Splinters of bark peppered his face and neck, fell harmlessly against his thick clothing. Something bit at his hip, skidding over flesh and removing a small chunk as it continued traveling.

Rio cradled the rifle on his shoulder, his targets already chosen, and squeezed off two deadly accurate rounds in answer. He followed with a burst of fire, laying down rapid cover as he scooted back to follow the cats. His pursuers wouldn’t be able to cross the river, and with two dead or wounded, they would drop the search for the moment. But they would be back and bring reinforcements. It was a way of life. Not one he had necessarily chosen, but it was one he accepted.

Scattered shots zinged through the shrubbery, angry bees without aim. The river drowned out the threats hurled at him, the promises of retribution and blood. He shouldered his rifle and slipped into deeper forest, allowing the creeping greenery to shield him.

Rio set a hard pace. The storm was dangerous, the wind threatening to topple more than one tree. The cats shared his life, but had the freedom to go their own way. He expected them to seek cover, to ride out the storm under protection, but they stayed close to him, occasionally taking to the trees to travel along the highway of interlocking branches. They looked at him expectantly, wondering why he didn’t join them, but eventually settled into his steady, ground-eating rhythm.