Smilodon

Chapter 1-1

1

A cool breeze rustled the leaves of the surrounding trees, tugged at my clothes and brushed my face to say hello as it made its way on down the valley. The breeze smelled of pine, spruce, and a fresh rain. I always loved the smell of a forest after a good rainstorm. That’s why I took the day off from work to go hiking.

I stepped out of the partial shade created by the tree cover and stood on the rock shelf I knew so well. It overlooked the valley sprawling below me, and like so many times before, the sheer magnificence of nature lightened my soul. I eased my backpack’s straps off my shoulders and removed the belt carrying my grandfather’s knife, because the knife’s length was such that it jabbed its pommel into my ribs when I sat on the ground. In form, it resembled the Bowie knife, but the strange markings engraved into the blade gave it an almost sinister character. Grandpa always told me those engravings were magic runes, but I’d seen nothing to make me believe that, of course. Magic—like Santa Claus—didn’t exist. I slid the sheathed knife through the carry handle of my backpack and returned my attention to the vista before me.

There was no explaining the complete and total peace this place inspired in me, and it was because of this very trail—more than any other reason—that I refused to leave the dead-end tech job at a company that forgot to pay me as often as not. This valley was home. It was where I belonged.

I don’t know how long I sat there. Well… not precisely. The sun warmed my back when I sat, and it glared in my eyes and heated my chest when I stood. So several hours at least. I would have stayed, but I still wanted to reach the small lake at the end of the trail and make it back to my car by nightfall. As much as I loved this trail and the surrounding woods, there was a reason it didn’t have any campsites. Weird stuff happened in this stretch of the national forest. The stories dated back beyond when my grandfather had been a little boy. He said those stories were why he gave me the knife and made me promise to carry it whenever I hiked this trail.

I stretched one more time, rolling my shoulders and twisting from side to side. I wasn’t as young as I used to be, and my body was stiff from sitting on the rock shelf for so long. I guess the human body really was made to move.

A rustle in the underbrush behind me drew my attention as I leaned over to grab my backpack. I could tell something stalked just out of sight, but there wasn’t enough of a gap in the foliage to see what. Unfortunately, I didn’t have to wonder long. A massive mountain lion stepped onto the edge of the rock shelf, looking right at me. Both of us froze. Well… I froze. The mountain lion just stopped. What struck me most were its eyes. In all my years volunteering at nearby zoos and animal hospitals or rescues, I had never seen a mountain lion that carried such intelligence in its gaze. I tried to angle myself to put my back toward the trail I’d just hiked and took a half-step backward, giving the big cat a little more space. It complemented my movement with a half-step of its own, and what’s more, it bared its teeth in a silent snarl.

I bit back a sigh. This would not end well.