Page 77 of The Last Sanctuary

Aghast, she turned abruptly and retched into the bushes. Retreating a step, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She was shaking, trembling all over.

Something else caught her eye. A semi-automatic rifle lay in the center of the bloodied circle. Blood stained the stock, the pistol grip, the barrel. It hadn’t helped the Headhunter.

Instinctively, she tightened her grip on her rifle. As if that could save her.

A floppy brown fishing hat lay less than a yard from the semi-automatic. She stared at the hat until her eyes blurred. Acid burned the back of her throat. It was the only recognizable thing left of Gomez.

He hadn’t returned to the lodge with the rest. He’d stayed out in the woods, unaware that he was being hunted until it was too late.

Perhaps some part of him wanted to die quickly. He was doomed, the Hydra Virus already ravaging his body. His death might have been quick, but it certainly hadn’t been painless, or free of terror.

Gomez was a Headhunter. Still, he’d shown mercy to Suki. She couldn’t help the rush of pity at his fate.

Raven took a step back, and then another. Urgency thrummed through her.

In the wild, tigers would stay with their kill or bury it to return and dine over a period of several days.

The tiger was likely very close.

She needed to get out of here as quickly as possible.

A twig cracked behind her.

Raven spun, rifle up, and flicked off the safety. Her heart raced. Panic clawed at her throat. Alarm bells screamed in her head, warning of imminent danger. Her primitive brain went haywire, begging her torun.

Her primitive brain was going to get her killed.

Fleeing a tiger was all but inviting death. Inciting a chase would provoke an uncertain tiger into attacking.

Back away, step by step. Move slowly and calmly. Don’t show fear.Her father had taught her how to act around predators to minimize the chance of attack.No sudden movements.

Even in her terror, she recalled her father’s instructions.Stay upright. Stand tall. Look like a human.A brave, fearless, bland and tasteless human.

She forced herself to straighten to her full height, resisting the urge to cringe and cower. It made her look stronger, bigger, and less like a helpless prey animal. Crouched down, a person appeared weak and small, which increased the chances of an attack.

Turning, she sighted more trees, more empty shadows. The forest was impossibly still. She heard no birds. Even the crows had fallen silent.

Her frantic gaze flicked from tree to tree, scanning bushes, shadows, scrubby underbrush. She saw nothing. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t there, prowling silent as a held breath, waiting to pounce.

Most likely, she wouldn’t see it coming.

Tigers surprised victims from the side or from behind, either approaching upwind or lying in wait downwind. They rarely pressed an attack if they were seen before they’d mounted their ambush. Of course, a captive tiger might attack anyway.

How many shots could she fire in the second or two it took for the tiger to cross thirty yards? How many rounds would it take to bring him down? Could she even aim accurately with a monstrous beast hurtling toward her at speed?

Abruptly, Shadow appeared to her right. He bounded past her in a blur of teeth and black fur. He halted, stiff-legged, and stared past the cluster of bushes at something in the shadows she couldn’t see.

His hackles bristled. Agitated, he growled low in his throat, his tail curled beneath him.

Luna appeared from the woods to Raven’s right and loped to Shadow’s side. The two wolves stood several feet in front of Raven. They alternately growled and whined, tails curled beneath them, backs arched, jowls pulled back from their teeth.

They smelled death. They smelled danger.

And then she smelled it, too. Faint, and then stronger.

The strangely disconcerting smell of buttered popcorn.

Raven froze.