His animal instinct helped him retrace his steps—there was no stumbling about, no fishing for the way. To the cat in him, the path stood out lividly, his own spoor clearly marking his previous route through the woods. New smells filled his feline mind: rodents brought out by the dusk, a few deer not far away, the unnerving stench of man that lingered everywhere. The major must’ve sent scouts to find the Yankee camp—Caleb caught a whiff of them and steered clear. He kept to higher ground, following a small ridge too rocky for the humans to use. Before long he found Brance’s scent, and tracked it down to the same clearing they had shared the night before.
Caleb went straight for the stump where Brance had sat earlier in the day. His was a unique scent, not quite human, not quite animal, but
