Sam looked down into a meadow from a rock outcrop on the shoulder of the ridge called the Camel Back. The outcrop made a good watchtower. He was tired of trying to follow tracks and other signs, so he decided to just watch for the rest of the afternoon, hoping to spot some movement—a startled rodent, deer, or bird, or perhaps a wisp of smoke or a flash of reflected sunlight.
He’d been sitting there for about an hour, letting his eyes roll and feeling his head bob when something caught his eye. There was something down on the granite flat to the right of the dry meadow, a couple hundred feet below him.
It was her.
He jumped up and began jumping between crevices, shrubs, and tree trunks. Just as he planted his right foot on a fat root and prepared to spring onto a bare spot below, something yellow darted away to his left. It was like a cat—a lion cub. He felt his neck hair stand up and a rush of heat and current shooting up his spine. He hoped this didn’t mean what he feared it meant.
Rigid and motionless, he heard the soft sound of paw pads bounding off the eroding granite above, and he turned as the world slowed, and he met her eyes, and the lioness fell upon him. Sam collapsed, hoping to duck out of the way of danger, but a paw came down and snagged him as the cat spun and flew overhead. He heard himself gasp. The two slid down the bald granite, with eroded chunks of rock scattering around them. He’d hardly realized he’d been hit when she was nearly upon him. He swung out Buck’s leash with his right hand. The leash flew outward and slung around the cat’s neck and Sam caught it with his left as the cat drove her fangs toward his neck. He pulled the leash tight and the cat pulled back, mauling him in her struggle to escape the stranglehold. Sam was bleeding. The world felt warm and cold. Everything began to lose color, and the cat screamed. An arrow shaft hung loose from her shoulder, and she leapt away. Sam felt the blood draining from his arms, neck, and face. He heard soft footsteps and breathing. The world faded from white to black.
He dreamed that Cindy was speaking to him. Her words kept falling at his feet too quickly for him to gather them. He felt warmth under his back, and broiling heat in blasts about him as he lay. He opened his eyes. The sun blinded him, and he let his head roll to a side. He felt his cheek rest against a soft bed of warm, black ash.
His neck, chest, and left arm were wrapped in something. It was wet. He coughed. There was smoke. He tasted blood. There were flames. The ground was flat and blackened and smoldering with ash all around him, and low flames encircled him in a ring about ten yards wide. He heard a popping, throbbing sound. He was exhausted. A blast of wind rolled over him, and he closed his eyes. He dreamed that he was being carried away in the belly of giant insect.
John Searles had not been far away when the fire was spotted. He hadn’t seen it himself, as he had been over a neighboring ridge. He got an unexpected visit from his ride out, a forest service helicopter. The pilot signaled him to return to the landing. When he got to the landing, the helicopter and pilot were there waiting.
“There’s a fresh fire,” the pilot informed him as soon as they were in talking range.
“Let’s go,” Searles replied.
As they broke over the ridge, they saw the smoke of the young fire. A minute later, they were above the charred meadow.
“Holy crop circles, Batman,” the pilot exclaimed into his headset.
“Yeah,” Ranger Searles concurred into his.
They looked down to find the dry meadow almost entirely burned over. A crooked and broken ring of fire burned around the edges of the meadow. It wasn’t anywhere near a perfect circle, but the pattern was hard to miss. At the center of the meadow, there was thin, white ring, and within that ring more ash. A body marked the center of the black disk.
“Firebug must be close,” Searles shouted over chopping noise. “Bring her down!”
As the pilot lowered the helicopter onto the burnt-out meadow grass, Searles shouted, “You get the body. I’ve got the bug.”
Searles pulled off his headset, swung a pack over a shoulder, and grabbed his rifle. He jumped out as soon as the helicopter hit the ground and dashed out, ducking under the throbbing blades. The outward blast of the helicopter kicked up an ash cloud and extinguished what scattered flames remained on the meadow, while it fed the flames in the surrounding woods. The fire accelerated outward, ahead of the ranger.