Brody listened to country music on the radio and drove the hundred miles he had to cover that day checking new spots and old spots for any infractions of the law. On his way back home, he drove into a public park that didn’t get a lot of action from tourists or locals. It was exactly the kind of place that poachers would use for their illegal activity.

When he parked, he noticed a red pickup truck with wide wheels and an empty gun rack in the gravel lot. Getting out of his car, he made a note of the license plate and grabbed his rifle. He moved up the trail, opening his bear senses for any signs of hunting in the area. He could usually smell the blood, even in human form. Being a shifter helped him in his job almost every day.

Quietly, he made his way into the forest. When he made it up a steep hillside, he looked down into the ravine below. The scent of blood wafted up in the air and he could see movement down below. Two men were kneeling over a recent kill. A mountain lion. It was not season for mountain lions, but hunters sold their pelts and teeth as novelties. Brody growled. The bear inside reared up, wanting to lash out with his strong claws.

While he wouldn’t let his bear out to handle a couple of poachers, they did need to be dealt with. The tricky part of being a game warden was that the criminals he met were most likely armed. They could also scurry off into the forest so that he had to give chase. He really wasn’t in the mood to track them down in the thick underbrush in this part of the forest.

The men lifted the lion on their backs and began to heft her out of the forest. They didn't see him when he followed. As the trails began to converge, Brody heard them talking.

“Mathews said he wants a lion for his collection.”

“Steve is a real jackass. I don’t know why we’re out here doing this,” the second man said.

“Because he’ll pay us. That’s why.”

“With all the talk of shifters coming out to the world, it feels weird to be hunting anymore. You’d never know if these animals were people.”

“Good riddance, I say,” the second one said.

“Do you have a problem with shifters?” the first asked.

“Well. Yeah. Who doesn’t?”

“You heard about the shifter who died right?”

“How could I not hear about that?”

“I think Mathews wants all these trophies to prove he’s at the top of the food chain.”

“Like I said, Mathews is a jackass. He’s a guy with too much money on his hands.”

As they broke out into the parking lot, they opened the camper shell of the pickup and started to shove the lion inside it.

“It’s not mountain lion season, so I’m pretty sure you don’t have legal tags,” Brody said, holding his rifle loosely pointed in their direction.

“Warden,” one of the men said, jumping.

“This cougar isn’t for us,” the second man said.

“Doesn’t matter who it’s for. You’re in possession of it. You shot it,” he said.

“We just found it like this,” the first man said.

“So, if I check the bullet holes against the caliber in that gun, they won’t match? Is that what you’re saying?”

“We did it. But we were doing it for someone else.”

“Who?” Brody asked, knowing that the men had been talking about Mathews the whole walk.

“Steve Mathews.”

“And why would a man like Steve Mathews have the likes of you two out doing his poaching for him?” Brody asked skeptically. If there was a connection between this and Chris’s death, he’d find it.

“He keeps a room full of stuffed animals. Wanted a new female mountain lion for his collection.”

“Why would I believe you? I should just arrest you.”

“Mathews is the big fish, sir. You don’t want us.”

“Possibly. I’m not going to arrest you today. But… I am giving you a ticket for a thousand dollars and confiscating that lion. If you don’t pay the fine, you’ll do time. Got it?”

“Come on, at least let us keep the kill.”

Brody shot him a look and the man backed down. They even helped him load the lion into his truck as he wrote their ticket. “If a rich man like Mathews really is giving you orders to poach animals out of season, I’m sure he’ll pay the fine for you.” Brody handed the ticket to one of them and he snatched it out of his hand, frowning deeply. “Have a good day,” Brody said, tipping his cowboy hat.

After the men had left, he grabbed a shovel from the back of his truck, and buried the cougar deep in the ground.