Dust twirled up into the sky as the mother cheetah chased after the young gazelle. Like all cheetahs, she had a flexible spine, enabling her to cover the ground quickly by taking huge strides. Using her speed as a weapon she took a leap and brought the young animal down, then, taking it by the throat and piercing its windpipe, she suffocated it. Then she gulped down the bloody flesh quickly, for fresh meat soon attracts scavengers; a vulture, a jackal, a marabou stork, it seemed everyone had a share in her well-earned prize. After pulling most of the red bloody flesh off her dead animal she lifted her graceful strong head and raced off toward her den, which was holding two cubs. As she came to a halt at the den, a huge flash of lightning struck the ground, and the sound of thunder cracked in the dark sky. A hyena screamed and ran from its hiding place, and a small herd of gazelles stood shivering, like a shimmering water hole on the grassy plain. The first drops of cold rain splattered onto the cheetah’s nose and descended slowly onto the bloody scruff. She stood with her head up, sniffing the gusty air; for a second she stood frozen, then backed slowly down the passage to her screaming cubs. Slowly, slowly until she hit the tunnel end and found her pups. They lifted their tiny noses to her mouth and made worrying noises up to her. The regurgitated food dropped onto the sandy floor. The pups exploded with excitement and pushed their way toward it; their eyes were already open, and the stronger cub had dominance over the smaller, weaker one. Their mother lay down and started grooming her sandy brown fur. A bolt of lightning flashed down to the ground just near enough for them to see the sparks of fire, but with their eyes closed in pleasure they saw nothing. She gulped down the bloody flesh quickly Suddenly the grass was a licking amber flame. In an instant the frightened cheetah picked up the stronger cub and rushed to the entrance. The fire licked into the den as they proceeded up to it. Her strong back legs bunched under her and the rows of well-built muscle that had been developed for sprinting at ninety kilometers per hour were now all used to jump high into the air with the cub. The flames engulfed her like a lion jumping through a hoop of fire. They made it with ease and ran off through the golden grass. The tiny cub screamed and dragged herself up to the entrance of the earth. The flames were too intense for her and they burnt her little whiskers and quivering wet nose. The frightened creature scampered helplessly back down to the chamber, her tail between her scrawny legs. The earth fell away as she scratched at the soil. Every time her paws hit the solid wall she whimpered painfully. Where was the emergency exit? She tried in vain to cast her mind back to when the lioness had attacked them; her mother had saved them by blocking up the entrance. Now the soil that for so long had been her friend held her back. There must be a way out. She was sure of it! Glancing back to the entrance of the earth she saw, to her horror, one of the longer roots had burst into glowing flames. Frantically she started to dig. Her baby paws scrabbled at the sides of the tunnel, sending sheets of earth flying behind her. She battered at it with her head, desperate to force a way through. Earth clogged her eyes and nostrils. The large root had glowed dangerously for some time, now it burst with light and golden colors—flames! The cub’s paws broke through the sidewall. She slid halfway down a sooty tunnel and stopped. Behind her the bedding had caught fire. Breathing hard she kicked at the soft earth; the air was full of drifting dust. Her long pink tongue and throat were coated in sticky sand, and as she broke out of the tunnel a fine drizzle started, wetting her face. Bedraggled, disheveled and soaking wet, she struggled on, following the telltale scent of her mother. She screamed in triumph as the dark silhouette of her parent came into view. She scampered happily up to her, wagging her tail and purring in delight. They curled up with the older cub and closed their eyes in pleasure. Outside the wind howled round and the rain pelted down, while lightning lit up the sky. They were cozy and warm in their new-found den; it was small but comfortable with the small amount of bedding they found. The dawning was wet, but with happiness for all animals that gathered. Herds of hundreds grazed on the grassfilled plains. Wildebeest, gazelles and large families of warthogs—they all scurried around a fallen tree finding food, and so did the cheetahs. Silently the two cubs and the long-legged female perched on the top of a warm, gray rock. The youngsters were too interested in the family of wobbly quail that were pecking at the long grass seeds. They never noticed the small herd of gazelle. Her speed was tremendous, like a blurred object The mother cheetah, although young, was too wise to be distracted by such a small meal. The pickings she was focusing on were larger, stronger and faster; also, they were much more nutritious and rich in goodness and would help her produce better milk, so her cubs would grow stronger. Taking no notice of the noisy creatures, she padded down the rock onto the grass. She crept along on her tummy until within three meters, then sprang forward. It was a good take-off, and she was catching up with the young buck that she had being observing for some time. Her speed was tremendous, like a blurred object—faster than the eye could follow; she gripped the hard

Peter Bradbury stepped outside into the ten-degrees-below-zero Canadian air. The winter would get much colder. The bundled-up, seventeen-year-old boy was not cold. He had grown up in this weather. He was tall, lean, dirty, unshaven, strong, and tough. He had been born in the woods. With much difficulty, he trudged through the three-foot-deep snow over to a rack that his snowshoes were on. The frame was made from wood and the webbing was made from animal skin. They had to be kept outside the whole winter. The temperature change of bringing them in the house was not good for them. Wearing the snowshoes, he walked on top of the snow with ease over to a small doghouse. Curled up inside was a young malamute. He was a grayish brown with black ears and patches of white on his face. “Come on, Chocolate. We’re going to check the trapline.” The dog got up. Peter was wearing many layers to stay warm. He had a pack on his back. Chocolate had a thick coat of hair; he was always dressed for the weather. Peter put another pack on Chocolate’s back. “We’re ready to go.” The dog followed Peter into the woods. Peter Bradbury’s trapline was fifteen miles long. At the other end there was a cabin where he would sleep. The next day he would come back home. It was usually easy for Peter and Chocolate to travel the ten miles in a day. “Come on, Chocolate. We’re going to check the trapline” When they traveled down the trail, through the pines, Chocolate ran ahead and then turned around and came bounding back to Peter. Both dog and boy squinted. The light from the sun reflected on the white snow caused their eyes pain. Sometimes Chocolate would run off to the side to chase a squirrel for a while. Peter was quite amused when he dashed into the forest in a frenzy, in mad pursuit of some small animal, barking nonstop. Finally he would give up and come back to Peter. At each trap that they came to, Peter would put in fresh bait, reset the trap, and if there was an animal in it, take it out. The bait came from Chocolate’s pack. Peter whistled cheerfully as he went along. He and Chocolate knew the route well. The first three traps were empty. At the fourth, there was a jackrabbit which he took. He tied the rabbit’s legs together and attached it to the outside of his pack. When he got home, Peter and his mother would skin the animals and sell the pelts at the closest trading post at the end of the season. Peter’s father had died long ago, so Peter was the man of the house. His mother did odd jobs in town. During the winter, Peter’s trapline was their main income. They desperately needed the money. The fifth trap he disappointedly found empty. At the sixth he found an arctic fox. He cheerfully whistled as they moved on. The seventh and eighth traps were empty. Peter started to notice a change in the weather. It was getting colder and dark clouds filled the sky. It had gotten extremely windy. The cold bit at Peter’s pink nose. It was snowing lightly. At the ninth trap there was an ermine. Ermine fur was very much in demand. Very happily, Peter took it out. They were headed toward the tenth trap when there were some very sudden gusts of wind. The snow was much heavier now, coming down in sheets. Peter could barely see. “It’s a blizzard! We’d better stop awhile, Chocolate. Let’s look for some shelter.” About seventy meters to the left of the trail, there was a small rock outcropping. The roof sloped down and met the floor at the very back. Slabs of rock held it up. It could not have been more than fifteen feet by ten feet. Once sitting inside the dry shelter, Peter began to go to work. He brushed the snow off of himself and the dog. “We’ll just stay here awhile, Chocolate.” The dog barked. “I’m going to build a fire. You stay here while I try to find something dry to burn.” The dog stayed in the shelter while Peter pushed his way through the heavy snow, not being able to see where he was going, in search of something to burn. He found some tree branches, felled from the blizzard. Gathering as much as he could possible carry, he tried to make his way back to the shelter. “Oh, no!” Peter groaned aloud. “How will I find my way back? OK, OK. Don’t panic. I can’t be more than fifty feet away. I’ll call Chocolate. I’ll hear his bark and follow the sound back. Chocolate! Chocolate!” he shouted, but his voice was lost in the wind. He continued to shout and kept moving toward where he thought the shelter was. He did not hear an answer. Then he saw something coming toward him. It was an animal covered with snow, about the size of a wolf. Peter started to back away but the animal kept coming closer. Peter tried to remain calm. It was unlike wolves to attack people. The animal kept advancing toward Peter. Peter was still not sure what it was. He kept backing away. Then the wolf-like animal jumped on him. “Chocolate!” Peter cried in relief. Chocolate led him back to the shelter. Once inside, Peter set to work. His hands and feet were numb from cold. His ears were almost frozen. His top layer of clothes was soaking. Peter cut up the wet wood and made a tepee. He stuck the leaves underneath it to use as the kindling. “Now,” Peter said to Chocolate, “all I have to do is get the fire going and then we will defrost.” Peter hesitated a moment and then said, “Oh no. Oh no. Oh boy.” He sighed and then said in a grim voice, “I forgot to pack

Dust twirled up into the sky as the mother cheetah chased after the young gazelle. Like all cheetahs, she had a flexible spine, enabling her to cover the ground quickly by taking huge strides. Using her speed as a weapon she took a leap and brought the young animal down, then, taking it by the throat and piercing its windpipe, she suffocated it. Then she gulped down the bloody flesh quickly, for fresh meat soon attracts scavengers; a vulture, a jackal, a marabou stork, it seemed everyone had a share in her well-earned prize. After pulling most of the red bloody flesh off her dead animal she lifted her graceful strong head and raced off toward her den, which was holding two cubs. As she came to a halt at the den, a huge flash of lightning struck the ground, and the sound of thunder cracked in the dark sky. A hyena screamed and ran from its hiding place, and a small herd of gazelles stood shivering, like a shimmering water hole on the grassy plain. The first drops of cold rain splattered onto the cheetah’s nose and descended slowly onto the bloody scruff. She stood with her head up, sniffing the gusty air; for a second she stood frozen, then backed slowly down the passage to her screaming cubs. Slowly, slowly until she hit the tunnel end and found her pups. They lifted their tiny noses to her mouth and made worrying noises up to her. The regurgitated food dropped onto the sandy floor. The pups exploded with excitement and pushed their way toward it; their eyes were already open, and the stronger cub had dominance over the smaller, weaker one. Their mother lay down and started grooming her sandy brown fur. A bolt of lightning flashed down to the ground just near enough for them to see the sparks of fire, but with their eyes closed in pleasure they saw nothing. She gulped down the bloody flesh quickly Suddenly the grass was a licking amber flame. In an instant the frightened cheetah picked up the stronger cub and rushed to the entrance. The fire licked into the den as they proceeded up to it. Her strong back legs bunched under her and the rows of well-built muscle that had been developed for sprinting at ninety kilometers per hour were now all used to jump high into the air with the cub. The flames engulfed her like a lion jumping through a hoop of fire. They made it with ease and ran off through the golden grass. The tiny cub screamed and dragged herself up to the entrance of the earth. The flames were too intense for her and they burnt her little whiskers and quivering wet nose. The frightened creature scampered helplessly back down to the chamber, her tail between her scrawny legs. The earth fell away as she scratched at the soil. Every time her paws hit the solid wall she whimpered painfully. Where was the emergency exit? She tried in vain to cast her mind back to when the lioness had attacked them; her mother had saved them by blocking up the entrance. Now the soil that for so long had been her friend held her back. There must be a way out. She was sure of it! Glancing back to the entrance of the earth she saw, to her horror, one of the longer roots had burst into glowing flames. Frantically she started to dig. Her baby paws scrabbled at the sides of the tunnel, sending sheets of earth flying behind her. She battered at it with her head, desperate to force a way through. Earth clogged her eyes and nostrils. The large root had glowed dangerously for some time, now it burst with light and golden colors—flames! The cub’s paws broke through the sidewall. She slid halfway down a sooty tunnel and stopped. Behind her the bedding had caught fire. Breathing hard she kicked at the soft earth; the air was full of drifting dust. Her long pink tongue and throat were coated in sticky sand, and as she broke out of the tunnel a fine drizzle started, wetting her face. Bedraggled, disheveled and soaking wet, she struggled on, following the telltale scent of her mother. She screamed in triumph as the dark silhouette of her parent came into view. She scampered happily up to her, wagging her tail and purring in delight. They curled up with the older cub and closed their eyes in pleasure. Outside the wind howled round and the rain pelted down, while lightning lit up the sky. They were cozy and warm in their new-found den; it was small but comfortable with the small amount of bedding they found. The dawning was wet, but with happiness for all animals that gathered. Herds of hundreds grazed on the grassfilled plains. Wildebeest, gazelles and large families of warthogs—they all scurried around a fallen tree finding food, and so did the cheetahs. Silently the two cubs and the long-legged female perched on the top of a warm, gray rock. The youngsters were too interested in the family of wobbly quail that were pecking at the long grass seeds. They never noticed the small herd of gazelle. Her speed was tremendous, like a blurred object The mother cheetah, although young, was too wise to be distracted by such a small meal. The pickings she was focusing on were larger, stronger and faster; also, they were much more nutritious and rich in goodness and would help her produce better milk, so her cubs would grow stronger. Taking no notice of the noisy creatures, she padded down the rock onto the grass. She crept along on her tummy until within three meters, then sprang forward. It was a good take-off, and she was catching up with the young buck that she had being observing for some time. Her speed was tremendous, like a blurred object—faster than the eye could follow; she gripped the hard