A little surprised, she realized she was still hungry. The little pig had been half a day before, and the only thing she had tasted since then had been a single bite of goat. Goat: even without the shaman's presence in her mind, she still hungered for goat, was starved for it. She sniffed and snuffled at the wind, following the herd's scent back to the standing rock. The sun was perched just above the horizon, and slipping lower. Perhaps she would be able to catch a stray after nightfall.

Following the goats' rancid smell was initially simple work. She trailed them easily across the land until their path crossed the scent trails of a mixed herd of elands, wildebeest, and zebras wandering toward a waterhole a mile away. She ended up following a sick wildebeest instead until she found a pride of lions abandoning their kill, having eaten the choice meat and leaving the bones and skin for scavengers.

From her vantage point at the edge of a clump of tall grass, the panther saw the hyenas quickly moving in as the lions left. The panther had no patience for hyenas; she gave a strangled, half-coughing roar as a warning, then ran into their midst, scattering them to all sides. If panthers could smile, she would have smiled to see them bolt. As it was, her fangs kept the monkeys in the trees, the snakes under stones, and the hyenas on the run. The meal was hers to dismember.

The panther gorged herself, tearing the scraps of wildebeest flesh and digging out the marrow, even gnawing at the hooves. The meat was already foul, having spoiled quickly in the heat of the fading day. She ignored the rancid taste and kept eating--she needed fuel to keep her powerful bulk strong. But nothing slaked her appetite; even when her belly was full, her mind still ached with the hunger the shaman's spells had created. She had tried to satisfy it, and failed.

Thinking of goats, she left the bones and skin behind.