She stopped to soothe her throat, lapping water from a tiny stream that trailed from a little waterhole. A light breeze drifted down the water, and she caught a rancid whiff of--goats. They had come to the water to drink! Following their scent up the trickling stream to a small ridge, she soon heard the bleating of distressed animals. She reached the top of the ridge and stared down, eyes keen in the twilight, into a hollow shadowed by an immense monkeytree.

At first glance, the scene was not as goat-filled as the panther would have liked. A clearing under the tree contained a small hut and a cluster of creatures, but it seemed to her as if the some of the goats had somehow changed to humans: there were two humans now, and only four goats, far fewer than she remembered. The goatherd was there--she expected that--but a new human was there as well, a young strong woman in pale clothes that made her glow in the dusk. The humans were growling, pushing, and braying in the manner of humans. The dog was leaping and running between them, barking and caught up in the excitement.

Slipping down the ridge, the panther moved closer to the goats. The humans noticed nothing; the dog barked at her, but the humans ignored it. The goats were too stupid or too afraid to bleat in fear. At last her quarry was in reach. She would kill goats. At last the spell that drove her would leave her in peace.

There was a sudden barking voice from the ridge; the dog and the humans in the clearing stopped their shouting at one another to look up. This was the panther's chance, but she hesitated: the sound seemed somehow familiar, even though she knew nothing of humans' voices. She spared a glance uphill. Two more humans stood upon the ridge, along with a creature she recognized: a feral shadow, like night's mist gathering in the darkness.

One of the humans she recognized as a Breathstealer, one of the tribe of men who had enchanted her so long before--enough reason to hate these new humans. But then he stepped aside and she saw the other clearly: a man in brightly colored robes. She suddenly knew him for the black mist that had controlled her mind, the shaman who had stolen her from her beloved jungles and brought her here to this dry place and clouded her mind with talk of goats, nothing but goats!

The shaman was her true prey. Ignoring the goats in the hollow below, the panther moved up the ridge, a shadow rippling through the evening light.

The humans barked at one another: two hunting packs fighting for dominance. The noise made good cover, and the shaman's voice made it easy for the panther to target him. She crept through the ridge's bushes. Her heart pounded strangely: the shaman would die. She approached to within a short jump, a kitten's pounce, then tensed her muscles. The shaman turned and saw her. He barked in fright as she sprang. The human's barking was cut short.