Jinx's assessment of the animals that roamed the other side of the river holds true. The size of this beast lies somewhere between a rhino-bear and a vile wolf. I grow tired of naming this Earth's vile creatures, but I need to call this predator something besides a monster. In contrast to the animals before the flood, the creature's size is more comparable to a polar bear, but its overall appearance is more like an enormous white lion. So I settle on a snow lion. This description fits it well. The designation heightens my senses, sending nervous waves tingling through my extremities.

I can only imagine what its teeth might do to me and the ones I love.

As it creeps beneath a spruce branch, I realize that Jinx, in fact, picked it up on his infrared sensors over a week ago, but not now. Why? I suspect the reason lies in the icicles imbedded and hanging from its body like a glistening coat of arms. The river has to be the answer. The snow lion had to swim across it to reach us. That meant dipping beneath the water and resurfacing as the moisture froze deep into its wooly mane of white fur. The icy shield, combined with its thick hide, must conceal its heat signature. Either that, or it has a way to lower its body temperature to brace itself against the cold, while maintaining its core. It could be both scenarios played out in some strange survival mechanism.

Under the sagging branch, the creature glares at me with ice-blue eyes, poised to strike.

"You see it now?" I ask Jinx.

"I have a visual, but nothing on infrared."

"What do we do?"

"Slowly, lower your rifle and step behind me."

I don't like the idea of lowering my gun, but I follow Jinx's instructions and take up a position behind him. Even though my weapon points down, I keep the stock firm against my shoulder and my finger on the trigger, never taking my eyes off the snow lion. It would be easy to lose the animal in the glare of the surrounding landscape. In this environment, the creature blends in with the wintry whiteness like a chameleon. All I see is the sheer blueness of its eyes. Like sapphires glistening beneath the branch.

We engage in a stare down as Jinx's percussion rounds dial up with a high-pitched whir of air and electricity.

I estimate the creature's height from ground to shoulder at around five feet, taller than a vile wolf and more powerfully built, like a tank. It peers down at me with those mesmerizing eyes ready to attack.

"When I say run," Jinx says, "run as fast as you can back to the cabin and barricade yourself indoors. Understood?"

I swallow the nerves lodged in my throat and muster a reply. "Yes." But I have another plan. I can't run and hide. I have to run and fight, make a stand, even if it's my last.

The snow lion slinks into the open, leaving the tree cover to reveal its actual size as it rises on its hind legs like a bear to stand over ten feet tall!

The creature roars like thunder charges its voice, as if it could peel bark from the trees.

Gooseflesh rushes over me, and my heart explodes in my chest, my body bursting into quivering spasms. It's all I can do to stand still as my feet tremble within my boots.

"Don't move," Jinx says. "Not yet."

The creature lowers to the ground and crouches. Then, using its muscular hind legs, it leaps into the clearing.

"Now." Jinx blasts the snow lion with a percussion round.

As the electrified air-bullet slams into its side, ice crystals shatter and fall away. Unaffected, the predator lands, clearing a twenty-foot jump with ease.

"I said, now." Jinx swivels to face uphill.

Moments ago, it was all I could do to remain still. Now I edge forward, stumbling, trying to follow his command, my leaden feet resisting orders from my brain.

Finally, my will to survive helps me find my stride. I charge up the mountainside while Jinx fires off quick bursts. With my thighs and calves burning, and my lungs gasping for air, I glance over my shoulder to see the creature leaping away to avoid Jinx's shots. Despite its great size, the snow lion's nimbleness makes it look like it's toying with the drone as the snow lion leaps out of the way at the last second, dodging rounds, having learned what the drone can do.

Jinx says, "My percussion blast confirms that the ice crystals hide the creature from my sensors." After the proclamation, the drone dials up his most powerful charge, a percussion grenade.

As I make the push uphill, the grenade booms from the end of his largest blaster barrel. The shock wave knocks me forward. I look back, hoping the grenade ended the threat as a tree trunk splinters into fragments of wood and smoke.

I slide to a halt as the creature vanishes into the flying debris.

When the smoke settles and the ringing in my ears fades, I hear paws pounding through the forested mountainside. The creature is on the run, maybe deciding it's had enough of Jinx's air blasters. But as I track the crunching ice and fallen limbs snapping under its paws, I realize what it's doing. It's circling around us, up the mountain, trying to outflank us, or beat us to the cabin.

Fear paralyzes me. Thoughts of Eve and the twins urge me to move, but my boots remain planted in the snow.

"Heat signature located," Jinx says. "Calculating interception route."

Finally, saving my family drives me into action.

I raise my rifle and race up the mountain at the best angle I can come up with. I have no desire to wait for Jinx.

"Course charted." The drone blazes past me, the wind from the sphere ruffling my hair.

Jinx takes a path to the left of the cabin, aiming to keep the creature from reaching Eve. I choose a route straight for the front steps. If Jinx can't kill it, maybe he can slow it down so I can get into position. I have no confidence my 30-30 shells will stop it, but I'll empty the entire magazine if I have to.

As I hurdle a fallen tree, land with a grunt and keep moving, Jinx fires multiple percussion rounds, for all I know, missing because he continues to unload on the creature. He needs to power up for a supercharged grenade, but he doesn't have time.

In the next few seconds, I reach the cabin and careen over a woodpile, my legs skimming over the top where I hit the ground and come to rest in a defensive position. I whip the rifle over a log and take aim.

Ahead of me, a narrow trail weaves between the trees, a path I cleared out a week ago. It's laden with several inches of new precipitation. I consider the likelihood the snow lion will follow the corridor I laid out for it. Maybe not, but the path of least resistance could play a factor.

I can't see what's happening because of the trees, but Jinx pauses with the percussion blasts. Maybe he's charging up a grenade?

My heart hammers with anticipation.

A roar tumbles down the corridor toward me. Paws strike the ground with spine-tingling thunder, heading in my direction. My heightened senses scream at me, demanding I brace myself for what's coming.

The snow lion rounds the bend and streaks into sight.

A week ago, I carved a large 'X' into the last two trees on each side of the corridor. To my right, Jinx zooms out of nowhere, like a cannonball. Everything is falling in line, the creature pounding uphill toward me, Jinx soaring to intercept.

At the last second, the giant beast skids to a stop, twenty feet from the end of the corridor, inches from my trap. Jinx halts, hovering in my peripheral. A shock of failed expectation rolls over me, but I hold my position with the rifle braced against my shoulder. I keep the gun barrel anchored on the stack of logs, my finger flexing on the trigger. My greatest fear is that shooting the animal will only make it angry, like hornet stings that can't kill it.

The snow lion paws at the ground in front of it, as if sensing something amiss. It stomps and growls, a deep rumbling that gives me chills. As it backs away, a claw snags the blanket I had laid across the ground for cover, tied off to the surrounding trees to help support the weight of snow on top of it.

The claw rips the blanket away and slings it aside to reveal a dugout pit with sharpened wood spikes sticking up from the bottom, waiting to claim a kill that may never come.

The beast narrows its eyes and snarls as it backs away from the hole.

A tingle in my gut warns me what it's about to do.

With a lurch, it starts toward me and leaps over the trap, but before it lands, Jinx nails it with an electrified grenade. The explosive impact launches the creature into a tree trunk, where it bounces off and crashes into the pit, impaled by the sharpened spikes.

As I rise to my feet, wondering if it's dead, Eve bursts through the front door. "My water broke. The twins are on the way."

I don't have time to process the news that I'm about to be a father, because another roar echoes through the forest. The snow lion was not alone, and the tumultuous sounds of our furious battle have led another one to our doorstep.