Elijah crouched in the tree, hidden in the foliage overlooking the camp watching the last of the professional hunters reluctantly leave the safety of the site. He waited with endless patience, knowing the rhythm of the hunting camps. Talk died down when the mosquitoes came. Men slapped at the insects, tempers rising. The rain began, a steady downpour increasing everyone’s misery. They were essentially city men, only the four hunters were professionals and now three of the four were dead. That put a pall over the campsite. Men disappeared into tents, leaving only the guards at the perimeters. All of them tried to shelter beneath trees. None paid attention to the branches above them. Still he waited, patient. Leopards were always patient. He didn’t mind the insects or the rain. This was his world and they were the intruders. He settled down to wait, to get the rhythm of the camp and the men in it.

It was important to go in quietly, get the deed done and get out unseen. The camp was heavily armed. Elijah didn’t want a bloodbath here in the forest. They didn’t want an investigation. This had to be a stealthy, silent assassination. He crouched there in the bushes not ten feet from one of the sentries and watched his uncle. The light from the lamp illuminated the inside of the tent. One side remained open to give Armando a wide sweep of the area with his gun. And the gun was never more than an inch from his fingertips. One by one the lamps were turned out so that darkness settled over the camp.

The wind blew. The rain fell. Elijah waited until the guards began to grow sleepy. The leopard suddenly came to life. Elijah crept closer, using the freeze-frame, slow motion stalk of the skilled leopard. His focused gaze never left Armando moving around in his tent, gun inches from his fingers. Demon incarnate. Murderer. Every dark deed Armando had committed against his family raged in Elijah’s soul. He slipped passed the first guard. The man looked right at him twice and never saw the leopard slinking into the camp.

A man emerged from his tent and stumbled to a nearby tree. He nearly stepped on the leopard, missing the creature by no more than a few inches. Elijah crept forward out of the man’s path, gaining another yard. Armando went to the entrance and swept the area for the hundredth time, uneasy with the way the night felt. The rifle was cradled in his arms, snug against his chest. Elijah didn’t take his eyes off his target, lying hidden in the small shrubbery only a few yards from the tent.