He chuckled. "I know—it takes some getting used to."

"Three?" I guessed.



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"Five. There are two more in the trees behind them."

"What do I do now?"

His voice sounded like he was smiling. "What do you feel like doing?"

I thought about that, my eyes still shut as I listened and breathed in the scent. Another bout of baking
thirst intruded on my awareness, and suddenly the warm, tangy odor wasn't quite so objectionable. At
least it would be something hot and wet in my desiccated mouth. My eyes snapped open.

"Don't think about it," he suggested as he lifted his hands off my face and took a step back. "Just follow
your

instincts."

I let myself drift with the scent, barely aware of my movement as I ghosted down the incline to the
narrow meadow where the stream flowed. My body shifted forward automatically into a low crouch as I
hesitated at the fern-fringed edge of the trees. I could see a big buck, two dozen antler points crowning
his head, at the stream's edge, and the shadow-spotted shapes of the four others heading eastward into
forest at a leisurely pace.