Chapter 18

Lilia and I breakfasted before daybreak, then slipped out the door. Behind us, I heard the ‘thunk’ as Millie dropped the bar into place.

Lilia carried her bow, already strung and with an arrow on the string, and my lighter-weight socketed spear was slung across her back. I carried my heavy spear in my right hand, my quiver of arrows at my left hip, and my bow slung across my back. I also had my axe and knife, indispensable tools for butchering. The axe would be needed to create a travois to haul our kill home if we were successful.

I knew which way to go, based on the direction the cabin faced, and we set off at a slow, cautious pace. We were the equivalent of rabbits in this wilderness, and there were but five of us that could be considered ‘friendly’. When you’re a rabbit, speed kills.

We still made good time despite the slow pace and frequent pauses to listen. Walk a few paces, pause; listen, and once we were satisfied there was no danger around, resume walking. There was no need to speak. Lilia was close behind me and whenever I paused, she maintained position by lightly touching my arm. We had traveled at least a mile by the time the sky lightened enough for us to make out nearby objects. A small clearing lay just ahead, and a few hundred yards away from the clearing was the roost tree I’d found. I hoped there would be deer still browsing in the clearing. They feed in early morning, then head for a water source. By mid to late morning, they’re bedded down in thick brush or atop a hill where the deer can see anything that moves. And there are always escape routes, regardless of where the deer beds down.

We eased slowly ahead, making no noise, but nothing moved in the clearing.

I had marked the location of a tree during my previous visit, ten yards back from the clearing. It had strong, sloping branches, easy to climb without making excessive noise. I had planned to wait in the tree if the clearing was empty ; deer had been here before, as evidenced by dung piles in the clearing, and there was no reason they shouldn’t return.

Lilia was a complication, however; I indicated that she should take this tree and I would find another one. It would be a more difficult ascent, but I was accustomed to climbing. As it happened, she went up the tree as easily as I could have. I watched as she arranged her quiver so that that a second arrow would be immediately available and headed off to find a tree of my own.

I settled in to watch, with my bow ready and my quiver conveniently placed. I might need my spear at some point, but for the moment it was awkward and might hamper my use of the bow. I laid it across a nearby forked branch and settled in to wait.

Only my eyes moved, scanning from right to left around the clearing. A quick glance at Lilia showed me that she was also still, clearly no novice at hunting. She glanced back at me, and then resumed watching.

The time passed slowly and the darkness slowly changed to the light of early morning.

The clearing remained deserted. A few insects buzzed, but none reached up to where we waited.

I had been sitting unmoving in the tree for two hours or so. It might have been a little more, but probably wasn’t much less. I was stiff and I suspected Lilia was too. Was this site a bust? I was wondering, when I spotted a slight flick on the far side of the clearing. A dark object, and a tiny movement that covered only two inches; I couldn’t tell what it was at first, but it was moving and there was no detectable breeze. Finally I realized I was watching a tail.

The tail belonged to a long, tawny shape crouched in the brush at the clearing’s edge. The animal was perfectly still, except for the excited twitching. If the critter wasn’t a lion, it would do until a real one came along!

This one was female, and she hadn’t discovered either of us. Sheer good luck, that tiny twitch at the end of her tail! Had we decided to climb down, the lion would have seen us.

And probably attacked!

I glanced at Lilia. I hadn’t seen her move, but now she was watching me. I eased my hand out and wagged it slowly from left to right. To make sure she got the message, I slowly shook my head. No, we didn’t want anything to do with a lioness!

She was big, heavy-bodied, and might not be hunting alone. I hadn’t seen another, but lions hunt in prides, don’t they? At least, they do in that other world, downtime.

I decided that we could just roost in our respective trees until the lion went away, but then it occurred to me that the tail-twitch might have indicated she’d spotted something I hadn’t.

I glanced at Lilia to make sure she had gotten my message. To reinforce it, I silently mouthed “Lion”, exaggerating my movements as I pointed toward where she lay concealed. Lilia’s eyes opened a bit and she mouthed back, “Lion?” I nodded, and when I turned my attention back to the lioness. I had a moment’s fright. I thought at first that I’d lost her, but she was still there.

And the tail tip had stopped twitching. The lioness sank even lower as she crept from cover, muscles bulging and belly barely touching the ground. I think I lost five years of life before I realized she wasn’t heading our way!

But she was clearly intent on something, stalking instead of simply moving to a better position. I tried to see what had attracted her attention, and finally, I saw it, and wondered how I’d missed it before. The animal was larger than an elk, but it blended almost-perfectly into the background. It had pale dappled spots along its side, a dark line along the back from neck to tail, and a buff-colored body that faded to cream along the belly. Its antlers were like nothing I’d ever seen; they were huge, with long spikes extending from a palmate structure similar to what a moose might have. I judged that it was larger even than a downtime moose, and represented a species I’d never heard of.

The stag had spotted the lioness when she left cover and I’d spotted movement as it turned to face her. The head sank low, nose almost touching the ground, and that formidable rack of spikes now faced the lioness. The stag backed slowly away, ready but not looking for a fight. But it was not going to happen.

The lioness roared thunderously, and charged. She crossed the clearing in three huge bounds before reaching her full stride, and ten or twelve more yards she would be close enough to attack. A final bound would land her on the back of the stag.

That turned out to be a mistake. The stag wasn’t intimidated. Was it instinct at work, or perhaps experience gained by having faced lions before?

Lions normally attacked in groups and tried to close before springing onto an animal’s back. Anchored by its claws, the lion could then bite through the spine or hook the nose with a powerful clawed forepaw and break the grazer’s neck. If the prey attempted to run, the lion could race alongside and sink its teeth into the throat. Almost always, there would be several lions working together. Whether from breaking their prey’s neck or suffocating it, lions usually managed a kill.

Neither of those approaches was suitable for a single lion attacking an alert animal with a head protected by spikes, but this one hadn’t waited. An outcast, maybe, or just hunting away from the pride? It didn’t matter, because she had made a fatal mistake.

The stag’s head was low, antlers angled forward and spikes slightly raised. As the lioness sprang, the head swept strongly up and rammed several of the long spikes into her body. She squalled in pain as she spun away and landed on her side. As she scrambled to regain her footing, The—stag-moose?— revealed his alternate weapons. He reared up and came down on the lioness, both front legs stiff and all his considerable weight behind them.

Ribs broke with a crunch and the lioness squalled again. The stag had been clawed during the attack, although I hadn’t seen it happen. But he was bleeding, and infuriated, he reared up and landed on her again, then a third time. This time the lioness made no sound. There was little left from shoulders to haunches that didn’t show evidence of those killing hooves and antlers.

I glanced at Lilia. She was switching her attention between watching me and the end of the drama below. I made a sudden decision. We were in a tree, no other lion had joined the fight, and the stag couldn’t climb. It was worth a try.