I was walking across the open fields of a neighbor’s farm at night with my two dogs. The moon was full. Wispy clouds rolled by briefly dimming the bright and surreal night landscape. A firm breeze rustled the tall grass and rattled the few remaining leaves in surrounding stands of trees. The air was crisp and cold.

The dogs roamed in front of me, sweeping back and forth in search of deer and foxes. They would circle by every few minutes and dash off in the direction of a new scent or sound.

Now the dogs charged past, tails tucked, and no pause as they raced in the direction of home. It was clear they were in full flight from imminent danger. I froze, terrified, adrenaline flooding my veins. I crouched in fear, scouring the moonlit landscape ahead for movement. I knew that both bears and mountain lions were rare but seen occasionally in this area.

Fifty yards ahead a pair of glowing yellow eyes rose above the fence line and locked on mine. The creature lifted it’s head and unleashed a piercing howl.