I’d walked about a hundred yards northwest of camp before I came across the small clearing, and I was halfway across it when something caught my eye and I came to a dead halt. Was I actually seeing what I thought I saw? Golden eyes, a predator’s eyes, with vertical pupils narrowed to slits of fury?
I swallowed and shivered. Slowly, the pupils began to expand, as if the fury was fading. The brush rustled, and I knew within a matter of seconds, whatever was there was going to take a step toward me. My gaze focused on whatever was in the brush, and with cautious movements I backed away.
I continued backing until my shoulder brushed against what I thought was a low-hanging branch—until something wet dripped onto my cheek and rolled down to my chin. I spun around and cried out in shock at wha
