“What the hell is going on?” I asked myself audibly. My mind stumbled as I picked up the pace, already out of breath and sweating but staring down at fresh mountain lion tracks in my set of tracks I’d laid down less than an hour ago. In open areas where the snow was good I could see the then fresh lion tracks I’d originally found an hour ago and my boot tracks following them but now there was another set of lion tracks in the mix and in some places directly in my boot prints. I couldn’t comprehend what I was looking at as I sped along, stumbling across a steep canyon game trail in the northern Rockies of Montana.