As Smith had predicted, with the warmer weather came a lot of work. In the following weeks, they had established a routine. In the early mornings, the doctor watered and tended to his garden. Then he gathered firewood after lunch. In the late afternoon, after the heat of the day had reached its zenith, Smith and Artemis would hunt.

The doctor had gone back to wearing his old t-shirt, since it was cooler than any other clothing he possessed. He had modified his buckskin pants into shorts, keeping the hide he'd cut away to sew back on when winter came again. As for footwear, the mocassins were quieter during the hunt and he seemed to have more luck sneaking up on prey. His hair had grown long enough that it was starting to get in the way, so he tied it back to keep it out of his face. He opted to keep his beard, but trimmed it close.

This particular afternoon, Artemis had chased after some larger herbivores, while Smith split off to go after the pig-like creatures. He'd followed one through the brush to a rocky outcropping. As he ran into the clearing, he saw the creature dart into tall grass nearby.

Smith crept along the length of the rock wall, one hand feeling along the craggy surface and one hand gripping his spear. He kept his gaze focused on his prey in the tall grass ahead and stayed low to avoid alerting it to his presence. His nostrils flared as he caught a whiff of the animal's musky scent. Smith stood cautiously to check his quarry's position, but cocked his head to the side, in confusion, as the feeling that something was not quite right began to trickle into the back of his mind. His eyes widened in surprise as hot, fetid breath struck the back of his neck. A small bead of sweat trickled down his temple and his heart pounded wildly in his chest as adrenaline flooded his body. He swallowed hard and resisted the overwhelming urge to run.

He knew he couldn't outrun whatever it was on the rock behind him. If he tried, it would be upon him in just a few strides and he'd meet a vicious, painful, and messy demise. His only chance was to turn and fight. Slowly, he moved his other hand to grip the spear and received a low warning growl in response. In one swift move, he swung around and raised his spear. Before he could take aim, a dark, muscular form leaped over his head, landed gracefully some ten feet away, and turned to corner him against the rock. Smith held the spear out in front of him to keep the beast at bay.

The beast was the same species of feline as Artemis, though decidedly larger and most likely male. It was probably the one they'd seen weeks ago. One swipe of its paw sliced through the point of Smith's spear. As he stared in alarm at the devastation wrought on his best manner of defense, he was beginning to regret splitting off from Artemis during their hunt. The beast advanced slowly, its muscles taut and its elongated canine teeth glistening. Smith tried moving to his right in hopes of extracting himself from his tight position against the rock, but the beast quickly corralled him again.

Smith tensed and waited for the beast's next move. Having observed Artemis on a hunt, he was well aware of the species' behaviors. In the split second it took for the beast to pounce, Smith dove to his left and rolled. As the beast lay briefly dazed from a head on collision with the wall, Smith scrambled up the rock to the plateau above. As soon as he'd gained his feet, he turned to see the feline jump up to join him atop the rock. With every step the beast took toward him, he took a step back. He had lost his spear on the ground below. His only defense was the knife in the sheath strapped to his thigh. He withdrew it, for all the good it would do and kept low, ready to make another desperate dive if need be.

The beast swiped at him with one razor-tipped paw, but Smith jumped backwards just in time. The beast advanced and swiped with the other paw. Smith deftly avoided it as well but wasn't prepared for a quick second strike from the opposite direction. The claw shredded his sweat soaked t-shirt and raked across Smith's chest. Howling in pain, he stumbled backward and fell. Smith dropped his knife and clutched at his burning chest with his right hand, the pain contorting his face in a grimace. He readied his left hand to ward off the coming attack as best he could.

With a sniff and a victorious growl, the beast advanced to claim its victim. Placing a heavy paw on Smith's shoulder, it raised its head and prepared to deliver a stabbing blow to his jugular with his saber-like teeth. Smith tried in vain to extract himself from the beast's grip, but knew he was about to breathe his last. He shut his eyes tightly and hoped it would be quick and relatively painless.

Smith's body shuddered, but not from any coup de grâce. He had felt the tremendous weight of the beast quickly and forcibly removed from its position atop him. When he opened his eyes, the identity of his savior was revealed. Artemis was firmly attached to the beast by tooth and claw, struggling to maintain her advantage. Despite the searing pain in his chest, he scrambled down the rock to retrieve his spear. The trip back up was more difficult, but adrenaline drowned out the pain and pushed him onward. He retrieved his knife and held it against the now blunt end of the spear. With his right hand, he deftly unstrapped the sheath from his thigh and used it to secure the knife tightly to the end of the spear.

Smith approached cautiously, not wanting to miss his intended target and injure Artemis. While Artemis held the beast, Smith found the right angle and stabbed the knife-tipped spear into its neck. It roared in pain and aimed a sharp claw in Smith's direction, but Smith stood just out of its reach. Artemis withdrew her saber-like teeth from the beast and adjusted her grip. She drew back her head and delivered the deadly blow to her opponent's neck, the kind that the beast had intended for Smith. It fell to the ground lifeless.

Smith released his grip on the spear and stepped back. The pain in his chest was impossible to ignore. The tattered remnants of what was once his t-shirt stuck to the drying blood and loose shreds rubbed irritatingly against the wound. He grabbed at the neck of the cotton garment with both hands and with a cry that was part pain, part victory, and wholly primal, he ripped the shirt from his chest and threw it to the ground. He dropped to his knees as the adrenaline wore off. Artemis released a victory roar of her own and went to Smith's side.

Removal of the shirt had brought some relief, but Smith knew he'd have to tend to the wound sooner rather than later. But first, he had more important business. He knelt next to Artemis, his face just inches from hers. He ran a hand across the smooth fur on her head and then scratched that favored spot behind her ear. She leaned her head against his hand and purred.

"Thank you, my dear," he whispered. "I owe you my life… again."

She gently butted her head against his and mewed softly. Someone has to keep you out of trouble.

Smith smiled, patted her on the head, and stood, using her muscular shoulder for leverage. He grabbed his t-shirt and retrieved his spear, then made his way down the rock wall. He headed toward the river to clean his wound, intending to use his t-shirt for makeshift bandages if possible. Artemis leaped off the rock and took the lead. She remembered her vow to protect him. She had her work cut out for her.