"I don't—" Wallace's answer was cut off as a huge "cat," with long stilt-like legs spread wide, sprang out of the bushes—directly at them.
Wallace and Saxton sprayed the beams of their guns across the cat's chest, burning a wide, smoking gash. The beast landed, sprang again, and died.
Saxton let out a long breath of relief. "Close," he said.
Wallace stood with a puzzled frown on his face. "How did he know the animal was there?" he asked.
"He must have a good sense of hearing," Saxton answered doubtfully.
"It can't be that good," Wallace protested.
"Maybe this is our chance to get some fresh meat," Saxton said. He drew a knife from his belt and knelt beside the cat's carcass. He made several rapid cuts. After a minute he looked up. "Nothing edible," he said. "Nothing but skin, gristle, and tendons."