Page 23 of Silent Prey

They chose the upward path, their chatter resuming as they left the sunlit shore behind. Christopher felt a pang of disappointment; he’d hoped they'd choose the shore. He liked being close to the water.

Oh, well. He was nothing if not flexible.

He adjusted his backpack again and continued tailing them, all the while surveying his surroundings for a place from which to ambush his prey, should she for some reason return alone. One never knew what opportunities life might present to those who were prepared.

As he walked, he thought of his mother’s wild moods, which had left their mark not just on his mind but on his body as well in the form of various burn scars and cuts, many of them delivered by a hot iron. Living in a shack on the edge of the woods, more at home in the wilderness than under the leaky shingle roof, he had learned to appease his mother with offerings: a bundle of berries, an endangered flower, a bird egg.

A dead rabbit.

She had called him his pup, his little coyote, and she could not have come up with a more apt moniker. For years Christopher had hated his mother for what she put him through, but now as a grown man he finally understood her purpose.

She’d been toughening him up, preparing him for the world—a world in which every creature was a link in a chain, part of an unbreakable hierarchy. Some were predators, some were prey.

And Christopher knew exactly which one he was.

The women ahead disappeared around a bend in the path, their voices echoing off the trees. He quickened his pace, closing the gap but maintaining his stealth.

As he neared the bend, he slowed again, careful to not give away his presence. His heart pounded in his ears, the thrill of the chase almost overwhelming him. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of pine and damp earth, letting the familiar smells calm him.

Then, as he came around the bend, his heart leapt into his throat. One of the women—tall and lean, with long black hair—was walking toward him, separated from the others. She held a camera, the lens pointed at the towering trees overhead. Her gaze was so focused on capturing the beauty of nature she didn't seem to have noticed him.

Christopher's pulse quickened again as he watched her move closer. He took a step back into the shadows just as she lowered her camera and frowned at something on the screen. She paused, turning slightly in his direction, and for a brief moment Christopher held his breath, wondering if she had seen him. But it seemed that fortune favored him. She was lost in her own world, oblivious to his presence.

“Come on, Di!” one of the other two, now out of sight, called. “Hurry up, would you?”

“Just a minute!” the one named Di called back.

She looked up at the canopy again, then back down at her camera, adjusting some setting. Christopher took this opportunity to slide further back into the cover of the trees, his eyes never leaving his unsuspecting prey. His pulse throbbed in his veins as he watched her. Soon.

"Di!" the voice called again, this time with a hint of impatience.

"All right!" Di shouted back. She took another moment to snap a few more shots before finally lowering her camera. Just as she was turning away, however, she froze, her gaze locked on Christopher.

For what felt like an eternity, they stood frozen in time—hunter and prey. Di's dark eyes narrowed, her lips parting in surprise or perhaps disbelief. Christopher's heart hammered against his rib cage, adrenaline surging through his veins.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Then, with a gasp, Di stumbled back a step, her camera dropping from her hands to dangle from the strap around her neck. She opened her mouth as though to scream, but no sound came out.

Christopher sprang into action. He lunged forward, closing the gap between them in two large strides. His right hand clamped over her mouth, and his left arm wrapped tightly around her waist, effectively silencing her shocked gasp. Di flailed, but he was stronger, more prepared. He could feel her heart racing against his arm, and for a fleeting second, Christopher felt a pang of pity. But then he remembered his mother's lessons about how the world was divided into predators and prey.

There was no place for pity.

"Breathe," he whispered in her ear as he dragged her off the path. "Breathe, Di."

Her panic subsided slightly, and she managed to draw shallow breaths through her nose. Christopher breathed in the scent of her fear mixed with the forest's musk. It was intoxicating, a heady mixture that set his nerves alight with anticipation.

“Who are—” she began, but he gripped her mouth tighter, silencing her.

“No time for questions,” he said.

He could hear the other women approaching, their voices carrying down the path. He knew he had to move quickly before they rounded the bend and saw him.

"Stay quiet," he said, pressing his lips against Di’s ear. She nodded, her body trembling underneath his grip.

They moved deeper into the forest, the last rays of sunlight barely breaking through the thick canopy of leaves. Moving as fast as he dared, Christopher guided Di until they were sufficiently hidden from sight.

By now, her initial panic had subsided somewhat, but he could still feel her heart pounding in her chest. Her breath came in sharp spurts against his palm, her body rigid in his grip. He squatted down and pulled her down with him, keeping his hand over her mouth.

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