Free Hunter by James Byron Huggins

stood on weak legs.
    Now Hunter watched Tipler laugh as he half-wrestled with the wolf, and knew some part of Ghost's animal mind had never forgotten the kindness. The old man was the only person besides Hunter who could touch him. Then Hunter's mind turned to other things. Darker things.
    Finishing his meal, he stood.
    "All right," he nodded. "Let's get on with it."
    "This creature"—Maddox used a laser pointer on the topographical map—"is moving south in a straight line. It used the Anaktuvuk Pass to cross over the Endicott mountain range. Our trackers told us that much. Then it continued south. Pathfinders lost it somewhere around there." He pinpointed the Sistanche Gorge, located about a mile beneath the pass.
    The support team had not yet arrived. Hunter gazed about the room. "You sending the professor and me in there all by our lonesome?" he asked mildly.
    "Well." Maddox skipped a single beat that seemed somehow important. "This is not like any kind of team we have used before, Mr. Hunter. As you know, we were forced to assemble them from around the world. And, if I may reiterate, they are the best in the world at what they do, each handpicked for a specific skill. They are soldiers but they are also, to the last, men who are proficient hunters."
    Hunter stared, saying nothing as Tipler laughed out loud. Then: "You make it sound as if it is a feat of remarkable engineering to assemble such a team, Colonel. Is it so difficult?"
    "No, no," Maddox said convincingly. "We have the best people in the world, gentlemen. Be reminded, we are talking about the United States military, here. However the unnatural events of the past week have caused quite a, uh, a stir, and ... uh, in case of some contingencies we have recruited one or two foreign nationals for the team. It is only a precautionary action, and won't affect unit integrity or final authority."
    "When do they arrive?" Hunter asked.
    "Well ... why do you ask?"
    "Because the tracks are getting old." Hunter leaned forward. "This soil is hard, good for tracking. But there's still gonna be erosion. Deterioration. And from the pictures, these tracks already have 5 curves in them, which makes them even harder to read. Plus that, a lot of them will be covered by leaves and debris. You've got severe temperature variations in the mountain range, and that's gonna age them even faster because the change in heat and cold will break down the edges. If you want me to go after this thing, then we need to move as soon as possible. Every day we wait makes it more difficult."
    Maddox absorbed it, staring at Hunter for a long moment. "All right, Mr. Hunter. From our latest intelligence I believe the team will arrive by early morning. Then you can begin." He moved to the table. "Now, let me give you something to examine."
    He lifted a plaster cast of the creature's footprint and almost gingerly presented it to Hunter, who laid it down. Professor Tipler removed his eyeglasses from the front pocket of his vest and leaned forward as they looked closely.
    They studied it for a moment in silence.
    "Well?" Maddox asked finally. "Now that you've seen a cast of the print, what do you conjecture? Surely the cast can tell you more than a mere photograph."
    Hunter delicately ran fingers over the impression. "How long from the time of the attack to the time this cast was set?"
    "Approximately six hours."
    "Weather conditions?"
    "Dry."
    "Wind?"
    Maddox paused. "It was relatively mild, I believe."
    "Was this in sand or dirt or clay?"
    "Simple dirt, I believe." Maddox appeared frustrated. "Why do you ask? Yes, yes, I remember what you said about time and age and erosion and how the tracks are affected by these things. But now, having seen the cast up close, surely you can give me some idea as to what we are dealing with."
    Tipler cast Hunter a concerned glance.
    "Gentlemen?" Maddox pressed. Frustration was quickly graduating to nervousness.
    With a sigh, Hunt er shook his head. "It's a plantigrade walk,"