sled. He knew it was wasteful to fire it for the sake of hearing the noise, so he decided to at least go in search of a rabbit. When the dog saw the rifle, he started bounding around the hunter. They left the camp, heading in a westward direction toward a pile of boulders that looked, from a distance, like the form of a sleeping giant.
Not so much as a lizard showed itself. Cley scanned the sky for crows or buzzards. It was perfectly blue and empty all the way to the horizon. Since natural cover was so scarce on the plain, he held out hope that something would be hiding in the shadow of the boulders.
As they neared the huge rocks, Wood ran ahead, barking, and disappeared behind them. Cley stood a few yards back with the rifle aimed and ready for whatever was flushed out. He waited, but nothing bolted into the sunlight. The dogâs bark changed to a growl, and, bringing the gun down, the hunter ran around to the opposite side of the formation. He worried that Wood had cornered a snake. In their travels they had seen some large ones, all a startling bright yellow, slithering through the new grass.
What he found was not a snake, or not the snake he had envisioned. Wood crouched in his attack stance, the hair along the ridge of his back raised, his teeth bared, facing off against the skeletal remains of what had once been an enormous creature.
The skull itself was nearly as large as the dog, resembling a cowâs but with a much longer snout. Its mouth was open and filled with rows of perfectly preserved, needlelike teeth. The eye sockets were big enough for Cley to easily pass his fist through. Stretching out for fifteen feet behind the head was a body composed of a spine with pointed, half-circle ribs curving down and resting their tips on the ground. Both the length of the ribs and the width of the spine diminished toward the tail, which ended in a three-foot-long, tapered bone needle.
Cley circled the remains, rubbing his hand on the smooth, sun-bleached bones. He noticed the lack of legs or arms. âSirimon,â he whispered, and the thought that one or more of these things might still be roaming the plain made him nervous.
âJust old bones,â he said to Wood. The dog relaxed somewhat, but was still visibly agitated by the skeleton. The hunter put the rifle butt to his shoulder, took aim, and, without hesitation, pulled the trigger. The gunâs report was like a violent explosion that, for a heartbeat, devoured the serenity of the plain. Smashing through the skull, chips of bone flying in its wake, the bullet lodged in a rib halfway to the pointed tail. Cley instantly regretted the reckless act.
He moved away quickly and whistled for Wood to follow. A few yards later, they both stopped in their tracks. The dog was silent. The hunter scanned the empty sky. âWhere are the birds?â he asked. They hadnât seen a rabbit or any other creature all morning. He squinted as if trying to see more keenlyâno lizards, no ants, not even the gnats that had been their constant companions from the first day on the plain. Now, even the breeze had vanished.
âWhere are the damn bugs?â he said.
At midafternoon, Cley sat up from where he had been trying to relax since their return from the boulders.
âLetâs get out of here,â he said.
He began quickly to gather the clothes and supplies laid out around the camp. Refilling the pack, he readied himself to resume the journey. His hands shook as he fixed the harness over Woodâs head and chest. Before they set out, he packed the bow and arrows on the sled and again lifted the rifle. Removing his pack, he rummaged through it for the box of shells and loaded the gun.
They moved away from the campsite at double their usual pace, and it didnât take long for motion to alleviate the vague anxiety that had beset them more than the gnats ever had. He wondered if the problem was simply that they had broken their routine, but he
Not so much as a lizard showed itself. Cley scanned the sky for crows or buzzards. It was perfectly blue and empty all the way to the horizon. Since natural cover was so scarce on the plain, he held out hope that something would be hiding in the shadow of the boulders.
As they neared the huge rocks, Wood ran ahead, barking, and disappeared behind them. Cley stood a few yards back with the rifle aimed and ready for whatever was flushed out. He waited, but nothing bolted into the sunlight. The dogâs bark changed to a growl, and, bringing the gun down, the hunter ran around to the opposite side of the formation. He worried that Wood had cornered a snake. In their travels they had seen some large ones, all a startling bright yellow, slithering through the new grass.
What he found was not a snake, or not the snake he had envisioned. Wood crouched in his attack stance, the hair along the ridge of his back raised, his teeth bared, facing off against the skeletal remains of what had once been an enormous creature.
The skull itself was nearly as large as the dog, resembling a cowâs but with a much longer snout. Its mouth was open and filled with rows of perfectly preserved, needlelike teeth. The eye sockets were big enough for Cley to easily pass his fist through. Stretching out for fifteen feet behind the head was a body composed of a spine with pointed, half-circle ribs curving down and resting their tips on the ground. Both the length of the ribs and the width of the spine diminished toward the tail, which ended in a three-foot-long, tapered bone needle.
Cley circled the remains, rubbing his hand on the smooth, sun-bleached bones. He noticed the lack of legs or arms. âSirimon,â he whispered, and the thought that one or more of these things might still be roaming the plain made him nervous.
âJust old bones,â he said to Wood. The dog relaxed somewhat, but was still visibly agitated by the skeleton. The hunter put the rifle butt to his shoulder, took aim, and, without hesitation, pulled the trigger. The gunâs report was like a violent explosion that, for a heartbeat, devoured the serenity of the plain. Smashing through the skull, chips of bone flying in its wake, the bullet lodged in a rib halfway to the pointed tail. Cley instantly regretted the reckless act.
He moved away quickly and whistled for Wood to follow. A few yards later, they both stopped in their tracks. The dog was silent. The hunter scanned the empty sky. âWhere are the birds?â he asked. They hadnât seen a rabbit or any other creature all morning. He squinted as if trying to see more keenlyâno lizards, no ants, not even the gnats that had been their constant companions from the first day on the plain. Now, even the breeze had vanished.
âWhere are the damn bugs?â he said.
At midafternoon, Cley sat up from where he had been trying to relax since their return from the boulders.
âLetâs get out of here,â he said.
He began quickly to gather the clothes and supplies laid out around the camp. Refilling the pack, he readied himself to resume the journey. His hands shook as he fixed the harness over Woodâs head and chest. Before they set out, he packed the bow and arrows on the sled and again lifted the rifle. Removing his pack, he rummaged through it for the box of shells and loaded the gun.
They moved away from the campsite at double their usual pace, and it didnât take long for motion to alleviate the vague anxiety that had beset them more than the gnats ever had. He wondered if the problem was simply that they had broken their routine, but he
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