The night was cool, one of those mid-summer nights when the air was cooler than the slight breeze lifting the leaves from the branches. The air was sweet, filled with the bloom of late flowers and fresh snow coming off the peaks. Small insects chirped and buzzed in the tall green grass in a symphony of life. Then it all went silent. The abrupt stillness was so deep the sound of fur rustling over the large body was easy to hear.

Soft grunts and snorts drifted lazily through the air, faint clicks and tapping underlying the approach of the massive predator. Over nine pounds, just under nine feet from nose tip to tail, the grizzly was a fully equipped hunter looking for a meal. Sharp canines crushed prey's bones between steel like jaws, flesh carved by splendidly formed claws that hooked tenaciously into hide. At eleven years old, the huge predator was in his prime. His keen nostrils could pick up the scent of prey from long distances, and scenting now, a wafting breeze brought it to him.

In the distance, somewhere far down the mountain came the sounds of prey feeding. Jaws clacking, the boar rose to his back feet, stretching his neck out to use his keen sense of smell better. Multiple animals, so close by saliva dripped from his rubbery black lips, the boar chuffed quietly, dropping back to all fours. With sudden stealth, he moved ahead silently, intent on his meal.

Ray was sound asleep in his small wood cabin when his shaggy, patched colored mutt Scrub rose, ears pricked, a growl bubbling in the back of his throat. Instantly alert, the man opened his eyes, but as was his custom, did not move right away. Ears searching the night for sound, senses reaching, what woke the hound came to him. Leaping from bed, he grabbed his rifle and sprinted for the door. He didn't have to call for the dog, the mutt was already at his heels.

The cattle had been lowing, distressed, frightened, but as he raced toward the stock pen, it was eerily silent. Scrub took off in the darkness, snarling fiercely, but Ray slowed down, his eyes going wide as the moonlight betrayed his loss. Strewn around like logs, the bodies of his stock lay shredded and bloody in the pen, the cows dead, the bull barely moving but dying. The wooden bars enclosing the paddock had been ripped open, and kneeling down, Ray swore. Grizzly!

"Boss!" Jace Drummer ran up, suspenders hanging over his long johns, rifle in hand. "What happened?"

"Grizzly." Ray got up, gesturing. The breeding bull had stopped moving and lay still. "All dead."

"Don't that beat all..." Jace swore softly, climbing over the poles to see the damage for himself. "Ever' single one- hey, where's Scrub?"

They looked around, but the scruffy dog was gone. The bear had slaughtered the small herd, and upon hearing the approach of the man and dog, had grabbed a young calf and retreated. Scrub had gone after it. Ray went back to the house and threw on his clothing, strapping his gun belt around his hips. He met Jace outside where the younger man had already saddled the horses, and the two started off.

"Just what are you thinkin' Boss? It's plum loco to track a bear at night. Recall what happened to that Sattler fella who lived yonder, and Nebbit ain't come back."

"Sattler was tore to pieces," Ray agreed soberly. "But that poor buster wasn't armed with nothin' more'n a knife. I got a sight more, and he's been plaguin' the country for months. Nebbit coulda just up an' quit. That blasted bear killed all his stock."

"You know Rum Nebbit never quit nothin' in his whole life! He's huntin' that bear an' more'n likely been killed by the beast! No we's doin' the same dang thing, it's just loco, Boss."

"That why you comin' along, Jace?" Ray grinned at him. "I'll only give that bear trouble if he starts it with me, for now. Sides, I'm curious why it is the old boar prefers my beef."

"Gonna get yourself kilt." Jace mumbled sullenly. "I knew I shoulda cut off our association back when I met you. Plum loco...huntin' a grizzly in the dead of the night."

"Call me daft. You got no call to come along if'n you ain't of a mind to."

"Now hold on, Ray! I didn't say I wasn't aimin' to come along!" Jace protested sharply. "There you go always puttin' words in my mouth! I ain't a kid no more! I can stack up to trouble well enough!"

Ray chuckled at him, eyes sparking with humor. They stopped talking then, letting their senses attune to the night, filtering out the sounds as they rode. In the distance, about a mile from home, Ray heard the echo of a bark. Using his rifle, he gestured at Jace who nodded, and the two stepped up the pace, riding straight into trouble.