Chapter Two:
I sprinted through the woods, my heard pounding in my chest. My breath was coming in ragged gasps that shook my small, fragile body as I pelted through the forest, my blonde hair streaming behind me. The sound of my feet scrambling through the leaves was drowned out by the constant thunder of the lion's quickly approaching paws. He roared again, right behind me. I saw the shadow of his paw raise, and I threw myself to the side as a massive paw thundered down on the exact spot where I'd been standing. The lion's claws had been unsheathed, and now dug into the ground as he advanced on his cornered prey. He snarled at me, and I backed up, whamming into a tree. He truly had me cornered. Dropping my bag, I pulled out the knife and held it up in my trembling hand. What had once seemed like a measurable weapon now seemed small and useless. However, it was all I had.
The lion took another step, and I looked at the tree above me. If I hit it at forty-five degree angle, then I should be able to rebound at a ninety-degree angle, taking the density of the tree and bark into account and judging for the wind speed….
Suddenly the lion leapt, interrupting my calculations. I leapt at what I hoped was a forty-five degree angle, grabbing onto a branch and, without a second's hesitation, pushing off at an angle parallel to the ground. Fear had given my legs strength, and I landed exactly where I'd planned: square on the lion's back. The lion reared up in fury, its claws raking the tree. I could see now the claws were a glistening bronze, not the usual keratin. I reached for the knife in my jacket. Suddenly, the lion bucked, catapulting me into the air. A screamed ripped itself from my lips as I fell. And then I landed on the lion's back again, with a jolt that rattled my teeth. The lion prepared to buck again, and I clasped the golden fur tightly with one hand. The other still held the knife. Before the beast could buck again, I plunged the knife into its body. It passed through the flesh as if it were made of water. It didn't make a scratch. I tried again, with the same effect. Screaming with frustration and fear, I hurled the knife into the forest.
` The lion's claws darted back at me, and I scrambled backwards across the fur. Despite my efforts to get out of range, the lion's claw still raked itself down my leg. I gasped in pain, my head spinning. Blood spilled out, staining the golden fur. The lion positioned itself for another attack, one that I knew I would not survive. As the claws rose, an idea struck me. Crazy, yes, but still possible. It still offered the slightest chance at survival.
As the claws began to descend, I flattened myself on the lion's back, digging my fingers into the coarse fur so he'd know where I was. The next few seconds seemed to occur in slow motion. The lion's claws were an inch above me, and I rolled suddenly to the side. My momentum carried me off the lion, and I was falling to the ground. My leg was sending waves of pain through my body. I watched as the lion's bronze claws impaled his body, and I distantly heard his roar of agony. Then the beast exploded into dust that drifted in the wind. I hit the ground hard, and finally gave in to the darkness as it closed in around my eyes.
When I woke, I wished desperately I were still unconscious. Still oblivious to the world, so I wouldn't have to think, to operate. So I wouldn't have to remember the traumatic experience of the day before. The lion…
I scrambled to my feet. Instantly my left knee buckled, and I crumpled to the ground. Waves of shock and pain flooded me. The lion… the knife… the powder… I shook my head, trying to clear it. I reached for my bag, which was covered with a sickly yellow dust. I brushed it off quickly, and then began tending to myself. I drank some water and consumed an energy bar. I then re-organized my bag and changed clothing. It was only then did I look at my leg.
My entire thigh was caked with dried blood. I bit my lip, knowing that I had to rinse off the blood. I took my water bottle and trickled some of my precious water on the wound. Within a few minutes I had a clear view of my injury. It was a long slice that ran down my thigh. Blood still trickled from it, although most of the blood had clotted. I took my used clothing, which had been pretty much destroyed in the attack, and ripped it into strips. I then created a makeshift bandage, which I rolled my pants back over. I breathed a sigh of relief. Now, as long as it didn't get infected, it should scab within a few days. I was lucky that the claws hadn't cut deeper. The claws that were… bronze. My head spun. The lion seemed like something from a dream, with its gleaming fangs and metallic fur that couldn't feel my knife. But it wasn't. It was real, all of it. Confusion and panic bubbled up inside me, and my stomach churned. I buried my head in my arms and began to shake with silent sobs of fear. The realization of how close I'd come to death was hitting me hard now, and I grasped the ground beneath me, to remind me it was still there. To reassure me that it wouldn't spin away like my certainty of what was real and what wasn't. A teardrop rolled down my cheek.
"I want to go home," I whispered through my muffled sobs. "I want to go home." I laid there for the rest of the day and far into the night, finally falling asleep to the soporific chirping of the crickets.