Several short barking calls signaled a herd of adult barking deer nearby. Something had disturbed them enough to cause them to sound the alarm. Rio leapt onto a low-hanging branch and gave the grunting cough of his kind to alert Franz. The enemy was wounded and on the run. There was more blood in the thick needles and leaves on the ground where the sniper had rolled, but it wasn’t arterial blood.

Rio made another careful sweep of the branches above and around him. He sighed as he bent and picked up a boot. The man had taken just enough time to wrap the wound to staunch the flow of blood, drop his rifle and clothes and had taken to the trees, using his leopard form to escape. It was much faster and more efficient to rush through the branches than to try to run wounded, weighed down with clothes, weapons and ammunition. Running down a wounded leopard at night was madness. Especially one of his own kind who had all the cunning and intelligence along with special training.

Rio scouted thoroughly, knowing leopards often backtrack and stalk their prey. Once he found blood smeared along a tree branch, and another time it was a bruised and twisted leaf, the only two signs marking the passing of the large cat. Franz joined him, scenting the air, snarling, eager to give chase. Rio was much more cautious. They were chasing a professional, a man capable of changing form. Like Rio, he would have planned several escape routes. He would have stashed weapons and clothes along the routes and he would have set traps ahead of time for the possibility of pursuit.

Rio wanted to make certain the sniper hadn’t doubled back, but he didn’t want to leave Rachael for too long when he didn’t know the extent of damage to her leg. He dropped a hand to the top of Franz’s head, a gesture of restraint. “I know. He’s come at us twice now. We’ll hunt him later. We’ve got to move our wounded, boy.” He scratched behind the upright ears and resolutely turned back to gather the clothes and weapons the sniper had left behind. He doubted if he would find an identity, but he could learn something from them.

He made his way back toward the house, Franz beside him, taking his time to make a more thorough inspection of the floor and trees in his realm. He found the blind where the sniper laid waiting for just such an opportunity as Rio lighting a candle might give him. The shifting of shadows against the thin woven blanket was enough to give a marksman a chance of hitting a target. He stopped just a few steps from the verandah, breathing deeply, allowing the knowledge that Rachael could have been killed to wash over him.