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of these heads. Or they taught our Mowgli how to do it himself.”
    Walking over from his spot in the circle Ravizza took the arrow head from the sheriff and declared, “He killed your elk like he killed my dog. I now, too, will wear this head in a remembrance of our fallen Aurora until justice has been served.” Ravizza cut a piece of rope tying a half-hitch knot around the head and draped it around his neck. The sheriff and his crew had no idea how right his thoughts on the origins of the heads were. Uncle had indeed made both of the heads.

10 Two Birds
    W ith justice in mind the group set course at daylight for the next point given to them on the GPS. They were headed directly for the orchard and again would be within close distance to not only the twins themselves but also their home.
    Hours passed as they now hiked on trails that were nonexistent. Bushwhacking through thick brush and swamp land slowed their pace to not much more than a crawl. Not to mention they had been steadily climbing uphill through the day putting them near the ridge of the valley. A summer sun and no breeze did not help with the mosquitoes and black flies who feasted on their hosts’ bodies. Hot, tired and angry, their defenses were down.
    Even Ravizza and Henderson did not notice the tracks they walked upon. Paw prints went unnoticed as did the tufts of fur floating on the tops of the knee-high ferns. Step by step, slice by slice as they cut their way through the brush, they got closer. Stopping for a break, Coleman leaned against a tree trunk. Sitting there drinking from his canteen, he raised his head, pouring the water over his face to cool down. His canteen empty, he brushed away the remaining splashes from his eyes only to realize what was above him. Their eyes met and Coleman froze. Not being able to process exactly what it was, Coleman only could mutter a broken word.
    “La, La... La... Lio...n!” Coleman was not given the time to finish the warning. The rest of the group had seen it just as he did and although each of them was armed and could have easily shot at the attacker they all instinctively fled in various directions. The traumatic events surrounding Aurora’s death mixed with their weakened and somewhat lost states of mind made the group of deputies panic and along with their leader, each ran crashing through the bush and swamps.
    The cougar let out a shrieking roar as it soared down from its perch on the branch above. The big cat’s fully extended claws dug deep into Coleman’s shoulder as the impact took him to the ground. Fumbling for his shotgun, he rolled to his side as the cat sank its teeth deep into the thigh of the screaming deputy. Coleman quickly clutched the knife from his belt and thrust it into the left eye of the cat. The combination of the knife hitting bone and the blood on his hands made him lose his grip on the knife as the cat whipped its head away from Coleman’s leg. With all its power the cat was still much smaller than Coleman, who had now wrapped his other leg up and over the top of the lion’s back, scissoring the animal while he pulled its solid head to his chest in an attempt at breaking its neck. Interlocking his feet together, he rolled his body weight with all he had, spinning both him and the beast down a small drop off and onto a sandy ledge.
    There in the full sun the man and cat slowly regained their balance and broke free of one another’s grasp. Now both on their feet, they circled one another on the small landing. Both warriors bleeding profusely from the wounds their respective challenger had inflicted and neither yet willing to die. Coleman glanced down to his left and saw bones. Looking to his right there were more. Piles of bones.
    “So this is your pussycat graveyard, huh?” Coleman said to the cat as he realized he was now in the lair of the hunter. Claw marks on the nearby trees were evident from years of scratching and sharpening, as was the strong musky odor of the cat