A slightly chilly breeze rustled through the aspens, sending a shiver down my spine.  I glanced around, taking a deep breath.  Something caught my attention: a faint tangy scent.  Another shiver ran down my spine, but this time it wasn’t related to the cool weather.  This time it was related to the thought of what that smell signified.

Straightening up, I walked in the general direction of the smell.  I decided I didn’t want to hurry just yet, it could wait for a bit.

Ducking under a tree branch, I ran into the chest of my brother, Harold.  A deep rumble made its way from the depths of his chest up through his throat and I winced, embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized, backing up immediately.  A slight smirk appeared on his lips.

“Did you smell it too?”  

The sheepish smile on my face was quickly replaced by a confident grin.  “I did.  Are you headed there?”

“I am,” he confirmed, shaking his head slightly to get the long matted curls out of his face.

We both sauntered over to where the aroma was strongest, our smiles growing even larger when our destination came into view.

An orange tent, it’s rainfly slightly flapping in the wind, and a big fir next to it.  Next to the fir was a spot of moist ground, where someone in our family had marked their territory.  

Taking a moment to thank the gods that it was someone from our family, and not some other family, we walked over to the tent and with featherlight hands, lifted the rainfly just enough so that we could peer into the tent.  Two young women and two teenage boys lay sleeping, although every once in a while one of the boys would rub his nose.

We stood there silently for at least fifteen minutes, just watching.  A branch cracked nearby, my head whipping around to see what had caused the sharp noise.

It was another of my brothers.  “Sorry,” he whispered, wincing.  John walked over to us, being more careful to not make any more noise this time.

He stood next to me, glancing at the tired inhabitants of the tent.  “They look like they have some meat on them,” he whispered again, this time even quieter.

I couldn’t help licking my lips at the thought of warm flesh.  “I can’t wait.”

Harold grinned too.  “Let’s go,” he said, letting the corner of the rainfly fall softly from his hands.  

We all walked away, back to our home.  The rest of our family was there, our Father was preparing the rest of our bohn and we walked into the midst of the bustle, each grabbing a serrated blade and a pair rothers for the hunt.  Sharpening knives, tying back hair, and grabbing rawhide gloves.  We walked up to our Father and asked him if the people we were preparing for were the ones we had seen.  He nodded, somber.

“They were greedy.  No one needs to have kids.”  And with those words, he turned back to his tasks.  I looked to Jof gloves.  My hair was cut short, and John’s was already pulled back.

Overpopulation was a real issue in the world, especially in the beautiful state of Colorado where people flocked to live in the mountainous state.  Views of changing aspens, powdered ski slopes, and sunsets from the top of our tallest mountains brought in loads of tourists, many of whom decided to move here in retirement or after college.

Overpopulation caused degradation of natural materials, drove animals to near extinction, and ruined ecological systems.  From the standpoint of a retired environmentalist, Father had obviously seen the many negative effects overpopulation had on the natural world.  When he taught me and my brothers all about it, we instantly agreed with him: overpopulation had to be stopped before all the animals, plants, and other natural resources were depleted.  

Shaking me out of my thoughts about population control, Father clapped his hands softly, bringing my attention back to him.  John and I glanced at each other, grins splitting from ear to ear on both of our faces.  He gave us the rundown of who was doing what, and John, Harold, and I were put in charge of making slight noises.  

Over the decades we had learned that when our targets were afraid, they were more likely to cooperate with us.  I was the best at it.  Knowing exactly whether putting all my body weight onto my heel or toes, which side of the tent to brush up on, and which branches would make the eeriest snap had put me ahead of everyone else.

Ten of us walked back in the direction of the campsite we had visited earlier.  The other seven of us stayed back at our camp, preparing the spit and other things.

When we finally arrived, the people who made visual scares came to stand with the three of us who made the auditory scares.  I stepped onto a nice thin branch, putting all my weight into the sole of my right foot, and effectively snapped it.  It made a sharp sound as it split and a moment later, I heard a shift within the tent.

That was quick.

I jerk my head towards Harold, who knows it means that he should walk towards the tent and brush up against it.  He takes steps that are heavy enough to make a sound but light enough so they don’t leave obvious footprints, and when he brushes up against the tent, it’s like watching a practiced professional.  He makes sure that whoever’s awake inside can’t make out a shape in the mesh of the tent windows.

I hear a light gasp emit from inside, followed by a gravelly voice.  “Hey, babe, do you know what that noise is?”  I guess one of the two guys has woken up.

A higher pitched voice responds.  “No, it’s probably nothing.  Go back to sleep,” the girl speaking groans and there’s a sound like someone’s rolling over.

I decide now is the time to snap another branch.  This one is bigger, and makes a louder noise.  I hear someone sit up.  

“There’s something outside,” the girl says, a slight panic causing her voice to wobble.  She sounds more awake, and I hear her shake someone.  John drags his feet in the dirt, making a noise that causes her voice to rise even more.  “Sarah!  There’s something outside!”

The other girl yawns sleepily.  “Emma, stop being so paranoid.  Jack is right next to you,” she rolls back over, likely to try to get back to sleep.

“It’s not just Sarah.  There’s definitely something out there,” Jack says, his voice radiating panic as well.  It’s more masked than Sarah’s is, though.

Whether it’s the noise of Harold brushing up the tent again, Jack’s panic, or just the fear of something really being out here, Sarah sits up.  I hear a dull thud and then the other boy is awake, grumbling.  “Why did you punch me?”

“There’s something outside.  Wanna go check it out?”  Emma laughs a little, and I’m sure the boy is rolling his eyes as he responds.

“Jack is literally right there.  Make him go look.”  

I snapped another branch, and after a bit of grumbling, Jack stuck his head out of the tent flap.  One of my brothers was standing with his back to the entrance, and slowly turned around, back hunched.  Jack squinted, trying to identify the figure in front of him.  When my brother locked eyes with him, he immediately ran into the cover of the trees as Jack quickly zipped the tent door.  “There’s someone out there.  We need to leave.”

Sarah shivered.  “Do we pack up all the stuff or just come back for it later?”

“Later.”  Jack said, already shoving his arms through a second sweatshirt.

A minute later, all four of them left the tent.  Their fear pheromones were going insane.  

I grinned.  It was finally time.  

When the kids were about halfway between their tent and their car, my brothers lept on them.

Screams were cut off as hands were slapped over their mouths and wriggling limbs were stilled when Harold ran in and wrapped them with rope.  

Me and John sauntered over, unable to keep the smiles off our faces.  As soon as our whole group was there, we hoisted the four up onto our shoulders and ran back to camp with them.  

They kept thrashing, up until the very last conscious breath.  

And as we sat down at dinner that night, all that filled my mind was the thought that we were doing our small part scientists always talk about.  If everyone does something, we can fix global warming.

And our small part was population control.