What she didn’t anticipate was the other voice, then the dark-haired woman bolting for a grove of pines…the scream.
Laura willed her legs to spring into action, but they responded with a whimper. She limped to the trees and found a hiding place where she could get a decent view. In the clearing, a cougar circled a young girl who lay prone on the ground.
Laura’s breath caught in her throat.
Curling her hands into makeshift binoculars, she brought them to her eyes. The narrowed visual fields allowed her to focus on the downed figure.
Not a child at all.
This was a small redheaded woman, helpless against the stalking beast.
Do something, Laura!
She didn’t want to die, but better her than an innocent. If it were the only way, she’d walk straight over and punch the lion in the gut. She’d never be able to take the animal down, but if it turned on her, that just might give the woman on the ground time to escape.
Laura was willing to do whatever it took to give her a chance.
As a child, her mother taught Laura to pray.
If ever there was a time to consider her soul, it was now.
She closed her eyes.
One tear slid down her cheek, followed by another.
Prepare to die.
She pictured herself leaping onto the lion, rolling around on the ground.
Ready.
Set.
And then . . . her heart stopped as suddenly as a bird that had soared blindly into the sheer rock walls of a mountain.
She opened her eyes.
The monster was far more dangerous than any mountain lion.
If Laura died before she had a chance to expose it, the monster would go on living, and that meant more victims—more young women would die.
Yes. She had to save the woman from the cougar, but she owed it to the other victims to stay alive.
As she filled her lungs with untainted mountain air, her resolve grew steely.
She made a decision: She had to find some way to distract the lion that would give the woman time to escape, and Laura the best chance to stay alive. In her weakened condition, if she attacked the lion directly, it would mean certain death.
Her eyes darted in all directions and eventually landed on the scree-covered ground.
Her thoughts sharpened, and her heart quickened.
If she hurled one of those small rocks to the opposite edge of the clearing, it should startle the lion, and hopefully it would turn away, stalk toward the new threat—away from both Laura and the woman on the ground. If the woman was conscious, she’d have a good chance of escaping on her own, but if she wasn’t, Laura would enter the clearing and drag her to safety.
All she needed was a little bit of luck, and her plan would work.
Only trouble was Laura had never been lucky.
Caitlin considered her plan of careful observation and masterful inactivity a success—thus far. Her lungs were working so hard she might as well have been doing push-ups instead of lying quietly on the ground, but the lion seemed to be calming down. Its growling had grown softer. Now and then, it paused to look at something other than Pandy.
Ten more seconds passed.
Pandy remained untouched by the beast, and Caitlin remained unnoticed at the periphery of the grove. Any minute now, the wind might shift and carry her scent to the lion, but just as likely, it would grow tired of its game, decide Pandy was no threat, turn and stalk away.
Caitlin focused on melding her mind with the lion’s.
Walk away, Mamma.
The lion halted midstride, lifting one paw.
That’s it, girl. Go home to your babies. No one here wants to hurt you.
Bam!
A rock landed near the lion’s head, sending a landslide of scree raining down.
The lion let out a great roar, shaking debris off its fur like a wet kitten—only this was no kitten. It crouched, eyes locked on its target—Pandy.
Caitlin’s do-nothing strategy went up in smoke.
She catapulted to her feet, threw her arms above her head, and made herself as big as possible. Using all the energy left in her lungs, she pushed out a mighty roar.
The lion pivoted.
Their eyes locked.
Her heart beat not at all, and then much too fast.
“Run, Pandy! Run!” she screamed.
The lion crouched, ready to vault at Caitlin.
No time to run.
Every muscle in her body contracted in anticipation as the beast became a blur of color and motion.
Boom!
The lion’s paws hit her square in the chest.
All the air rushed from her lungs, and her feet dropped out from under her. Her body, now on autopilot, squeezed into a protective ball. One hand tightened into a fist. She drew it back, then landed a blow to the lion’s skull. The impact reverberated down her arm like the kick of a gun. Blood dripped into her eyes, obstructing her vision. Her heart revved in her chest, fueling her muscles with oxygen.
Then all thought fled, as she fought for her next breath with every ounce of her being.