There was no wildlife to be found. There were, no doubt, rabbits, raccoons, bobcats, deer, bears, and lions, but they would require serious hunting. While Sisson built shelter and got the fire going, Tom took the .30-06 and made a wide circuit, hoping to find a deer. The big rifle wouldn't leave much of a rabbit or raccoon if he found one.

He found the tracks almost immediately. He tracked the deer for only a hundred yards or so before he found the tracks of the lion, which was also tracking the deer. He hoped it was a young adult cat and not a starving old cat, one smart enough and quick enough to bring the deer down quickly. They could share the deer with the lion, driving it off or killing it with the .30-06. Hell, he'd eat cat if he had to. A fed cat posed no danger to a lone hunter who was moving slowly in the snow.

He followed the tracks, deer and cat, for another half an hour or so, until the sun was clearly going down behind the tree line. He found the pile of lion scat, rough with deer hair, not far from the trail he'd been following. The lion had brought down the deer, but though the scat was still pretty fresh, the carcass was probably still a ways off. It would have taken hours for the deer to make its way through the cat's stomach and intestines. He walked farther, looking for blood on the ground, but he found nothing as the afternoon light began to fail.

He turned and went back, following his own tracks in the snow. There was still enough light to see by, and after he had stepped in one track and had it give way as the snow underneath continued to melt, he walked a half pace off his earlier tracks, hoping the dropping temperatures would keep the ice crust thick.

By the time he was losing sight of his tracks, he caught the scent of pine smoke in the air. He couldn't see either the fire or the smoke yet, but the smell was strong, and he could follow his nose back. He was starting to guess where the tracks were when his right foot went through the snow.

He went down hard, catching himself with his hands and his left knee, both of his hands breaking through the crust of snow and down almost a foot. His right leg was stuck nearly to the hip. He was able to lift his left leg up enough to straighten his knee. He was now caught by his right leg and both hands. The weight of his rifle and water bag on his back pushed his face into the snow.