Free The Tejano Conflict by Steve Perry

the new hunting ground.
    The sights, sounds, smells, the tactile feel of the dried needles and leaves under her feet, the temperature of the air on her fur, they all blended together, and she became one with the place. Yes, she had been born on a world light-years from here, but she had hunted on other planets, and while they were all different, they were all also the same.
    The chirps of the birds, chattering of small mammals in the trees and in burrows, insects buzzing, the wind creaking the wood and stirring the leaves, the sound of her own heartbeat, filled her ears.
    The many smells, of the plants, the animals, the warm ground, seeped into her nostrils.
    The dappling of the light through the tree crowns bathed her fur . . .
    She soaked it all in. Closed her eyes, took a deep breath, let it escape. Ready.
    That way . . .
    â€“ – – – – –
    She circled upwind, to allow the beast to catch her scent, then looped back around, downwind, and waited.
    What would he think when he sniffed and smelled her? She would be alien to him, and how would he react? Would he come to investigate? Or move away, beset with caution? Would he dismiss her altogether?
    The bear was the top natural predator here, save for humans, and he wouldn’t be afraid of her. And since he had killed humans? Probably wouldn’t worry overmuch about them, either. Other than a bigger, fiercer bear, there was nothing for him to fear, claw-to-claw. He would be secure in his strength and speed.
    After a few minutes, the bear’s scent told her he hadn’t moved. So, not curious, nor afraid, continuing his business.
    Good. Time to move closer. Let him see her . . .
    â€“ – – – – –
    This close, the bear’s musk was thick, and since she was approaching downwind, he could no longer smell her. She moved with care, slipping through the big trees, using them for cover. They were a few hundred years old, the larger trees, too big around to encircle with her arms.
    She was eighty meters away, still concealed. The bear was feeding on something; she could hear the cracks of small bones being crunched. Before she could step out and let him see her, the crunching stopped. Was he done? Or had he somehow sensed her even though he couldn’t see nor smell her? Sometimes, prey knew they were being watched; some innate, undefined sense warned them.
    She moved from behind the tree.
    The bear was looking right at her. He had known she was there.
    He was on all fours, the remainder of his meal scattered on the ground, some medium-sized animal.
    He moved his head from side to side, lifting it, sniffing at the air.
    She knew that he had a much better sense of smell than she did though his vision was poorer, about that of a human, and he could hear better than they. At short distances, a bear could sprint faster than a man could run though maybe not as fast as a Vastalimi.
    The bear stopped sniffing and watched her. Then it raised itself up onto its hind legs, continuing to look at her.
    A display to make himself look more dangerous? Or a way to see better? Both?
    The bear dropped back to all fours.
    Kay stood as still as a statue.
    A few seconds passed. The bear looked away from her, back at what it had been eating. Then it turned and padded off. In no great hurry, but not dawdling, either.
    Kay smiled. He was not showing fear, but caution. Good.
    â€“ – – – – –
    Intelligent beings who did not hunt usually did not understand how prey behaved when it perceived a threat. They expected that an animal beholding something that might kill and eat it would flee as fast and as far as it could. That seldom happened. What usually took place was that the prey would move a short ways, out of quick reach, then stop to assess the situation. If the hunter didn’t move to follow, as often as not, it seemed almost as if the prey forgot it was there. If the hunter was downwind and