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would be grazing alone. Alec’s sixth sense, an awareness of the presence of animals even when he could not see them, told him there were not any near by. He listened to the sounds of the bulls in the distance and hurried on.
    A few minutes later he came to an abrupt stop, certain he had heard rustling in the grass directly behind him.
The breeze had died
. What had accounted for the sound? Footsteps? Hoofbeats? Man or bull? He could not tell. Sweat trickled down his body as he stared into the darkness, every sense alert.
    He thought he heard the sharp intake of a person’s breath and the massive movement of a great body on light hoofs. Could there be both man and bull? Or was there nothing at all? The sounds—assuming they were not the product of his imagination—had stilled.
    He stood quietly, knowing it was not wise either to walk or to run. In this pasture were no cows or calves but full-grown fighting bulls, as dangerous as any other fierce animals in the world. He’d realized that before climbing the fence. And he had no weapon with which to protect himself.
    It was a bull and it was alone, separated from the herd either by a fight with another bull or … Had he actually heard footsteps as well? Had someone intentionally separated this lone bull and arranged this meeting?
    Alec listened to the movements of the bull. He could not yet see him. The wild animal was trotting now, coming toward him faster and faster. Alec had no time to run even if he had wanted to. His heart pounded madly but there was no trembling of his hands or body. His muscles were ready. He didn’t fool himself into believing that he had the strength and skill to cope with such an adversary. Standing one’s ground against an unruly horse or dog was not the same as facing a bull bred for centuries to attack.
    Yet the cavemen had managed, going naked and unarmed to hunt this very beast for food, according to González. At least they’d had a club, Alec reminded himself bitterly. He had nothing, nothing but his wits.
    Where was the moon? Would its light help or make things worse? The bull had come to a stop in the darkness, seemingly undecided which direction to take. Alec held his breath. The bull blew, whistling through his nostrils. It was different from the Black’s whistle—hoarser and more guttural. Alec heard the hoofbeats come closer, then stop again. Perhaps if the moon had not emerged from behind the clouds at that particular moment the bull might have returned to his herd. As it was, the light brightened the pasture and the two looked into each other’s eyes, the bull more surprised than Alec.
    Less than a hundred feet separated them. The bull was a big one, his neck a tremendous hump of muscle. The animal lowered his head, his great horns pointing menacingly, and pawed the ground. Then he blew again. Alec knew the attack was about to come.
    He had no more than a second to wait. Like a blackthunderbolt the bull charged, the rush of his great body shaking the earth and stirring up a sudden gust of wind. Alec twisted away to avoid the horns seeking his flesh. There was a quick movement of the bull’s head and the tearing of cloth as the tip of a horn rent Alec’s white shirt at the waist. The passing body struck him hard and he fell to the ground.
    The monstrous bull was swallowed by the night but before Alec could get to his feet he’d come out of the darkness again. Alec lay flat on his stomach, knowing there was no escape.
    The bull lumbered over him, kneading his prone form with hoofs and head. Fortunately the horns struck only the ground on either side of his body. He was butted and bumped by the big head. He could only lie still, praying that if there was no movement from him the bull might stop before the horns pierced his body. He buried his face in the deep pasture grass and suddenly the bull stopped.
    Alec waited and held his breath. The bull butted a final time and the tip of a razor-sharp horn caught the back of