“What does that mean?”
“The angle of light.” He studied her face. “You're tired. We'll go over your mistakes and then go back to the house.” He turned away and moved up the slope. “You dislodged rocks over there.” He pointed. “You flattened ground cover when you first started down this hill, and the color is a little different.” He pointed again. “You broke the stem of that plant when you went into the bushes.” He knelt down. “And here's a clear footprint.”
“It doesn't look clear to me.”
“See the curve where your toe pushed into the ground?”
She nodded. “It's like learning a foreign language.”
“Your eyes just have to train themselves to see the signs. There are four indicators to watch out for. Flattening, when dirt, rocks, or twigs are pressed into the ground by the weight of a foot. Regularity, which is an effect caused by straight lines or geometric shapes or anything not generally found in nature. Color change, which is a difference in color or texture from the area that surrounds it. Disturbance, which is a recent change or rearrangement.” He moved ahead of her. “Come on, we'll go to the first place you hid and we'll go over the signs there.”
She hurried to keep up with him. “I might as well have left a sign pointing to where I was.”
“Well, yes. But I didn't have to look at the ground when I got near those shrubs.”
“Why not?”
“I smelled you.”
She missed a step. “What?”
“Deodorants, toothpastes, shampoos are the scents of civilization. But nature gives everyone their own individual scents.”
“You're saying I stink?”
He looked at her. “No, you smell intensely female. It couldn't be more enticing.”
She glanced quickly away from him. “Or identifiable, evidently.”
“I'd know you in the dark.”
She inhaled sharply and searched wildly for something to say. “And did your Apache friend educate your nose as well as your eyes?”
“No, it's a talent. I just had to refine it.”
“Sarah's dog, Monty, has a wonderful nose.”
He started to laugh. “You're comparing me to a dog?”
The tension was gone, she realized with relief. “Well, he's an exceptional dog.”
“Then I guess I'll have to accept that as a compliment.” He knelt down and pointed to a spot some forty yards away. “Here's where I first picked up your trail. Do you see the shine?”
She squatted down beside him. “Yes, how did I do that?”
“Your footprints pressed into dirt particles, which formed a reflective surface. But you can only see them in an oblique light angle.”
“As shine.”
“But you might miss them if you were right on top. That's why distance is good.”
“Well, you're definitely an expert on distance.”
“I'm not bad on top either.”
She didn't make the mistake of looking at him this time. She quickly rose to her feet. “Let's go. I can't wait to see what else I did wrong.”
“You're pretty incredible out there.” She stared into the fire as she slowly sipped her hot chocolate. “How did you meet this Indian who taught you to track?”
“The Army sent me to him. It was part of my training.” His pencil moved swiftly over the sketch pad. “You never know when you're going to have to seek out and find. Actually, it took me longer than it should have to become proficient. At first, I didn't like hunting. I had to learn to block out the thought of the final kill and concentrate on the chase itself. You know, you look really good in the firelight. . . .”
“You'd better draw fast. This heat is making me sleepy.”
“Just a little while longer. . . . You said you went hunting with your father. That surprises me. I can't see you with a rifle.”
“We didn't take rifles. My father didn't like shooting animals. We took cameras.”
“Now I understand. Much more in character.”
“Do most people in your profession have problems learning to”—she searched for a word—“hunt?”
“Kill. Say it.” His gaze remained on the sketch. “Some do, some don't. Occasionally, you find someone who loves it. Loves the hunt. Loves the kill.”
“Not you?”
“No.”
“But you've known someone who does?”
He nodded. “And for a short while he infected me with his enthusiasm.”
“Was he as good as you?”
“No, but he came close.” He put the sketch pad on the end table beside him. “Go on to bed. I've captured the essence. I'll fill in the rest tomorrow.”