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the sound. There was only wind whispering through pine needles.
    And then it came again.
    Whatever it was, it was out in the savanna, maybe a hundred feet away, and it seemed to be coming toward him. He stared, squinting, and finally saw a movement out in the sedges. A tall figure was moving his way, almost a beeline right toward him. He held silent until he could identify it.
    It stopped. All he could see was something light colored standing behind a tuft of bear grass. And then it was moving toward him again. Suddenly, it appeared from out of the tall grasses.
    â€œHello,” she called in a husky voice.
    Ron breathed out, relieved and wondering why he had been so tense. There really wasn’t anything out there likely to be a danger to him. He felt relatively certain he could outrun a big snake. He laughed nervously, low in his chest, before he stood.
    â€œHey,” he replied. The girl was moving his way quickly. She, too, had a small daypack on her back. She was wearing khaki cotton pants and a long-sleeved shirt of similar color, a kerchief of muted green around her neck. She had short brown hair, and she was very tall.
    And she was quite pretty, he noticed as she walked up to greet him, her own hand outstretched to take his. Her grip was strong, stronger than he had expected. He had to look up to meet her eyes: she was six feet tall, at least.
    â€œSo. You’re with Fish and Wildlife.” Her gaze was on the patch on his right shoulder.
    â€œYes,” he needlessly replied. “Out here scouting around today.”
    â€œYou guys thinking of updating those preliminary impact reports you did? Those really sucked, you know. I almost thought you fellows were working for the studio.” She was shedding her own pack, revealing a great dark stain down her back. Ron realized she had been out on the savanna for some time, and he wondered how she had spotted him.
    â€œNo. I’m not here for anything like that. That’s not my gig. They have other boys at the office for that type of thing. I’m more of a Jack-of-all-trades with the department. PR, informational talks, that kind of thing.” He indicated his tree. “Have a seat. Plenty of room. Name’s Ron, by the way. Ron Riggs.”
    â€œSure. I think I will have a seat. Lunchtime, anyway. Thanks.” She tossed her pack next to his and sat, her long legs extending out before her, back against the tree much as Ron had been sitting before she’d arrived. “My name’s Kate Kwitney. I was hoping your bunch’d do another impact statement. As I said…”
    â€œThe last one sucked,” he finished. She smiled at him. “Yeah, I read it, too. I thought it was somewhat superficial to say the least. Hell. I just saw a Snail Kite zipping across the sky here. There was no mention, at all, of Snail Kites in the report.” He was sitting next to her, getting his sandwich and searching for his water bottle.
    â€œChrist. You have no idea,” she told him as she retrieved a bag of dried fruit. “Why, we’ve identified ninety-three threatened or endangered species living within three miles of here. And that’s just birds, mammals, and reptiles. We’re not even talking plant species, amphibians, or fish. Botany and ichthyology aren’t my line, mind you, but I know a bit. We have a couple guys working on those.”
    â€œ We? Who are you with?” Ron sat there, his sandwich poised.
    â€œOh. Sorry,” she told him, working the words around a mouthful of dried apples and apricots. “I work for Holcomb. Vance Holcomb. You know who he is, right?”
    â€œYes. Yes, I do. He’s fighting Berg Brothers tooth and nail over this old bombing range. How’s that going, by the way?”
    She stopped chewing, and Ron looked at her as she stared off into the savanna. Her blue-green eyes were terribly pretty, he thought. So was the rest of her. “Well, you know Vance is an