Adam Mason sat on the edge of a red rock mesa, a painter’s sunrise stretching to the horizon before him. Hundreds of feet below, rocky terrain stumbled along the bottom of a box canyon. It was as beautiful as it was deadly.
Movement.
Just a blur, barely glimpsed, followed by the sound of tumbling stones.
Something was down there, and if he could see it, it could be watching him as well.
Adam scooted back from the edge to hide his silhouette. Reaching into his pack, he withdrew a much-used pair of binoculars. He scoured the landscape below, studying each crevice and shadow.
Suddenly, a tan body leaped into view as a mule deer bounded through a shallow canyon before slipping up the steep side, its sharp hooves kicking free cascades of gravel and loose stones with each jump.
Adam settled back, exhaling a held breath. His pulse was loud in his ears, and his skin felt cool and prickly, the hot smell of dust burning in his nose.
A bot would know just as he did—this would make an ideal place for an ambush. Boulders to hide behind, a gentle rise in the terrain creating natural high ground. From his vantage, Adam watched as the deer continued on its way, grateful that’s all it had been.
It hadn’t always been this way: living on the defensive, hiding from view. It was a way of life now, probably the only reason they had survived this long. It wore a person down, though, living under constant threat.
For now, it was restorative to take in the view, enjoy the colors that filled the sky, and try not to imagine something out there watching him, calculating how to get to him and his friends.
