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I asked if we could go for a walk, and Sonny seemed glad to do so.

We didn’t venture farther than the street that would lead us back to town if we walked long enough. I didn’t need a few miles under my belt, but the night air smelled pleasantly of sage and a distant campfire, so we moved slowly. I also caught waves of a bitter smell that didn’t stick around long enough for me to identify, but it kept me on olfactory alert. Smells could be warnings out here.

The night was clear and the air warm. Not surprisingly, Sonny was a star expert and could point out everything in the sky above with authority.

He pointed toward the horizon. “There’s Scorpius.”

“It looks like a scorpion.”

“It does. It’s my favorite.”

“Why?”

“It’s distinctive. Some are a little more difficult to see until you get used to looking for them. Scorpius never appears with Orion because myth has it that Gaia sent a scorpion to kill Orion. I guess I like the story behind it.”

“It’s a good story.”

With the dark-sky rules, the light pollution was low, and it was easy to spot the stars above, but it was also so dark along the road that we walked that it was difficult to see much going on in the houses as we passed by. The only pattern to any of the streets in Black Vulture and Tumacácori was that there really wasn’t much of a pattern. Small houses on small plots were located next to bigger places almost willy-nilly. Like the horse property next to Sonny’s small place, the rest of the streets were laid out the same.

Fences and trees—mostly mesquite and palo verde—dotted the front yards. There wasn’t much grass, but desert plants and succulents added layers and charm even if sometimes you had to change your perspective to appreciate the rest of the stark terrain.

There were plenty of places to hide, observe from a dark spot. Roaming around in the local landscape in the dark wasn’t wise, even if you were a seasoned desert dweller.

As we walked and talked about the sky and I drank in the night air, that bitter smell became more constant.

I stopped walking. “What is that?” I sniffed.

Sonny’s eyebrows came together as he sniffed too. “I don’t know. I’m not smelling anything distinct.”

I turned toward the smell and walked to the side of the road. I peered into the darkness of the sage and tumbleweed filled landscape at a spot that didn’t have a house or a trailer. I took a big pull of air through my nose and then bored my eyes into the darkness.

“I smell that man. The one who knocked me over.”

“You do?” Sonny stepped even closer to me. “Out there?”

“The scent has been with us the whole time. I thought it might be the horses, but it’s not, and it just got stronger.”

Something rustled in the sagebrush about twenty feet ahead.

“There.” I pointed.

“Hazel, let’s step back.” Sonny put his hand on my arm, and we took some steps away. He stepped in front of me and looked out toward the movement. “Who’s there?”

No one answered, but the rustling and the smell advanced.

In the span of just a few seconds, I realized that something was coming at us, but if it was human, they were low to the ground so probably moving on all fours, which didn’t seem reasonable. Still though, we stepped back. We didn’t run. I suspected Sonny was probably coming to the same conclusions I was. Something strange was happening, but not from someone walking upright.

As those split seconds ticked by, it wasn’t too long before the worst of it came into view.

I put my hand on Sonny’s arm. “We need to run.”

He didn’t argue but kept stride with me as we took off. I ran backward, so he did too.

Another brief moment later, the predator showed itself by bursting out of the brush and onto the street.

“It’s a javelina,” I said. Wild, piglike creatures with even bigger teeth, they were not attractive, but they could be cute.

It didn’t appear to want to come after us, so we quit running.