by Colin Dann
She was alert and curious at once. She left the cave, intent on investigating. Silent as ever, she travelled beneath the trees. The men were not so silent. They had given the bloodhound its head and were now hurrying to keep up with it. The bull mastiffs trotted at the men’s side. Lorna soon detected the men’s hasty steps and took her customary evasive action. She set forth on a wide detour, taking her to the fringe of the woodland and bringing her round to the men’s rear. The loud snuffling of the bull mastiffs, who breathed badly, intrigued Lorna and she followed in their wake.
Meanwhile the bloodhound was becoming confused. Lorna’s scent was everywhere in the forest. The hound tried to keep its nose to the freshest trail but the lioness’s tracks were a sort of maze. They diverged here, met up again there, dividing and rejoining constantly. Finally the hound found the most recent scent and barked in excitement. It bounded along then on the very route Lorna had taken that morning. The men were outdistanced and found it difficult to keep the bloodhound in view. Lorna, however, was ready for it.
She heard the dog’s triumphant bark and took cover. Shortly afterwards she saw the bloodhound approaching. To Lorna the animal resembled nothing she had ever seen before, except that there was some slight similarity in the way it moved to that of a fox. Lorna knew all about foxes. She crouched behind her screen of undergrowth, preparing to pounce.
The bloodhound’s head was up as the lioness sprang but the dog never knew what hit it. Lorna’s crushing weight drove the breath from its body and her jaws fastened on its throat. But she didn’t have time to carry off her kill. The men were approaching. Lorna hesitated, then dropped the carcass and loped quietly away unseen, snarling to herself in exasperation.
The dog-handler was the first on the scene. ‘My God, Martin! Look at this!’
The rest of the men trudged up, breathing heavily. The handler was on his knees, examining the remains of the unfortunate bloodhound. The bull mastiffs sniffed at the carcass with puzzled expressions.
Martin looked strained. ‘This is awful,’ he said. Then, angrily, ‘She’s not to get away with this! She can’t be far. Come on, lads. Let’s go after her.’
None of the others was keen. ‘I can’t leave Bruno like this,’ the dog-handler said, looking sadly at the bloodhound. ‘I have to take him back.’
‘Yes. Yes, I’m sorry. This is a tragedy,’ said Martin. ‘We’ll help. You can use the sling to carry him. Brian, Dean, will you help? Take Bruno to the car. Then come back and join the rest of us.’ He wiped a hand wearily over his face. ‘I can’t say how sorry I am about all this. It’s just . . . unbelievable.’
‘It’s a cruel waste,’ said the dog-handler. ‘Bruno couldn’t have stood a chance.’ He shook his head. The bloodhound’s body was lifted on to the sling. ‘The mastiffs are no good to you now,’ he said. ‘They’re not tracking dogs.’
‘I’d like to keep them a bit if we may,’ the leader replied. ‘They make us feel less vulnerable.’
The handler nodded. ‘As you like, but keep them on their leads. We don’t want any more accidents. If you come up with the beast, they’ll play their part. But I wouldn’t think you stand much chance now.’ He turned to go.
‘Where will you be, boss?’ Brian asked as he and Dean lifted their burden, grunting with the weight. ‘Where will we find you?’
‘Round about here. If Lorna has left this area we’ll call it a day. But I think she’s lurking nearby. She’ll be thinking about her—’ He broke off. He’d been about to say ‘kill’ but it was too sensitive a word while the dog-handler was still within earshot. ‘You know what I mean,’ he finished in an undertone.
The three men departed. Those remaining had lost heart. The lioness was too clever for them, too strong and too savage. She had everything in her favour and they weren’t happy about that. But Martin was determined to continue. Beset by constant failure and reversals, and under increasing pressure from their employers on the national newspaper, the team needed somehow to justify themselves. Martin knew it and wouldn’t give up. Besides, he was furious at being outwitted once again.
Lorna was lying up in some bracken, well hidden, but still in the vicinity. Martin had been right: she hadn’t forgotten her abandoned meal. The men, with very little enthusiasm, began their search. All of them, Martin included, had the same uncomfortable feeling of being watched. The bull mastiffs felt the men’s tension and stiffened visibly. Lorna was supremely quiet and still. She could see the human figures in the near distance. They never came very close.
Eventually Brian and Dean rejoined the group. All the men wanted to quit the forest. They had had nothing but bad luck in it, and didn’t think they had the remotest chance of any success.
‘We’re not achieving anything here,’ one complained. ‘Let’s leave. It’s an impossible job.’
There were murmurings of assent.
‘You want her to beat us?’ Martin said accusingly. ‘One wretched animal against eight men?’
‘She’s not just any animal,’ Dean reminded him. ‘There’s no shame in it, boss. We’ve done our best.’
‘No.’ Martin shook his head. ‘We haven’t. And that’s what I’m being told. We’ve got to get a result here. If not today, then soon. Otherwise it’ll be peanuts for all of us for all our efforts. There’ll be no real pay-out.’
‘What do you suggest then?’ one of the other men asked.
‘I’ve got one more idea for today,’ Martin answered. ‘A lion doesn’t like to leave its kill. She’s waiting for us to go. She’ll be bound to come looking for that poor brute of a dog once she thinks it’s safe to do so. Let’s play her game. Get into hiding and wait.’
‘Wouldn’t she know we’re still around?’ Brian asked. ‘She could scent us, surely?’
‘Not if we’re a little way away. Lions rely more on their eyes and ears than their noses. But we must be completely quiet. Including the dogs. Shall we give it a chance?’
There were half-hearted responses.
‘How long do we wait?’
‘As long as it takes.’
‘But what if she doesn’t come back?’
‘She will,’ said Martin. ‘I know it.’
‘Then why didn’t we try this idea before? When we nearly had her at the deer kill?’
‘We didn’t have the dogs with us then, did we? Trackers or not, the mastiffs make me feel happier. We only had ourselves to rely on before.’
There was no further conversation. Martin placed his team so that they were close enough to have a good view of the scene of the kill, while at the same time being sufficiently well hidden to be not immediately noticeable. There was nothing to do then but wait. Not a word was exchanged. As an added precaution the bull mastiffs were muzzled. Men and dogs crouched together, watching the spot where the hound’s spilt blood coagulated and began to turn solid.
Lorna was the essence of patience. She lay still for a long time. Then, growling low in her throat, as though reasoning with herself, she eventually got to her feet. She looked for signs of humans and listened for their sounds. There were none. Satisfied, she began to approach the pool of blood at a leisurely pace. The smell of it was strong and sweet. She headed directly for it – then suddenly stopped, baffled by the disappearance of the carcass. Her angry growl was distinctly heard by the watching men. Lorna looked ahead, assessing the turn of events. Martin raised his rifle. Lorna spied the slight movement and, with an astonishing burst of speed, raced towards the ambush. The men had no time to unmuzzle the dogs who were struggling to their feet, straining furiously, as Lorna charged. Martin tried to hold steady but his hands trembled. Some of the men broke away. The lioness was almost on them.
Lorna sprang at the man with the gun, dashing it from his hands as she vaulted over his body and careered onwards through the undergrowth. Martin was completely unhurt but badly shaken. Lorna had had no intention of attacking him. It seemed she had recognised the threat of the rifle and had deliberately planned her leap to upset i
t. In no time she was once again lost from view. Some of the men were gasping at the abruptness of Lorna’s run. Others shook their heads slowly.
‘It’s uncanny,’ said Dean. ‘She seems to know, doesn’t she? As though she can read our minds.’
Martin slumped on the ground, white-faced. The men glanced at him awkwardly. One of them tried to stir him.
‘What’s next, boss?’
There was no answer at first. Then Martin slowly got to his feet. ‘Resignation,’ he murmured.
Into Africa
The cargo plane carrying Ellen and Joel touched down at the East African airport in late afternoon, but their journey was not yet over. There were still some miles to go by road before they reached Kamenza. Ellen’s crate was unloaded and transferred to an open-top truck, and she was given fresh water and food. Tired after her ordeal, she drank all the water but barely touched the food.
Joel also was tired. Having made certain Ellen was as comfortable as possible he took the passenger seat in the car that was to follow the truck. Photographs were taken to accompany a short article in the sponsoring newspaper which would report Ellen’s safe arrival on the African continent. Then the next stage of the journey began.
Ellen roused a little once on the move again. She was immediately aware of new sensations, the most noticeable of which was the heat. She had never experienced temperatures of this kind, any more than had Joel. The air was heavy and full of strange and pungent smells. Nothing remembered from her enclosure at Lingmere Zoo in the north of England was remotely akin to any of these things. Ellen was totally unprepared for the change. And yet, deep within her unconscious self, an ancient instinct was stirred and an ancestral echo reawakened.
Joel felt no such echo. The car was hot, and he was sleepy and uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he was able to marvel at the unfamiliar landscape while he wrestled with the rich accent of his friendly African driver. The truck trundled ahead and eventually turned off the metalled road, throwing up quantities of reddish dust. They passed a village where they received some enthusiastic waves. Joel waved back and grinned broadly.
‘Kamenza village,’ the driver announced.
‘Oh yes?’ said Joel. ‘Then we’re close?’
‘We’re here,’ the driver replied. ‘OK?’
The truck pulled into a yard. Some people came out of a building on one side and ran over to lend a hand. The car drew up in front of a house with a veranda and a short flight of steps running down to ground level. A man in shirt and shorts hastened down them as Joel got out of the car. He was the chief game warden of the nearby national park, and was also in charge of the animal refuge centre. His voice rang out.
‘Joel? Simon Obagwe.’ He thrust out a hand and grasped Joel’s. ‘Good trip?’
‘Good, but long.’
‘Of course. You must be worn out.’ Simon smiled at the driver who was carrying Joel’s luggage. ‘Thank you, Paul.’ He turned to Joel again. ‘You’ll want to freshen up and change your clothes. Come along in. Hot, isn’t it?’
‘Very,’ Joel agreed. ‘Er – I’d really like to see Ellen settled first, if that’s all right.’
‘Plenty of time for that. They won’t do more than unload the truck until we’re ready. I expect you could use some refreshment?’
Ellen sensed several sets of eyes on her as her crate was brought to the ground. She was quite used to being stared at, but when Lorna had been with her she had known that the attention was shared. Now she was the sole focus of interest. She glared suspiciously at these men with their excited chatter. She felt deserted and vulnerable. If only her sister were with her now! She showed her teeth in a half-snarl as one man came particularly close to examine her.
‘Beautiful, beautiful,’ the man was murmuring.
Later Ellen was introduced to her roomy new pen. It had plenty of shade and there were clear areas under the trees where she could lie. There was also a pool. Ellen was the only occupant. Surrounding the enclosure was a three-metre-high wire fence with overhangs to prevent climbing out and a second, lower fence around that. Support poles were sunk into concrete so that digging a way out wasn’t an option either. Joel noticed the emphasis on security, comparing it with Lingmere. For the hundredth time he wondered whether Lorna had been recaptured. He meant to find out as soon as he could make contact with England.
‘What d’you think?’ asked Simon.
‘I think she’s very lucky,’ Joel answered. ‘Except she’ll be lonely. She’s always lived with her twin before.’
‘I know. An unfortunate business, that. I hope she won’t be alone for long.’
‘So do I. I don’t know what’s happened at home. Perhaps I could—’
‘We’ll find out,’ Simon said promptly. ‘Meanwhile Ellen has a neighbour she can see: Upesi, a young cheetah. We brought her in as an orphan. Her mother injured a leg. Couldn’t hunt. Starved to death, I expect.’
Joel registered this information, given so baldly. Life in the African wild was another cup of tea altogether. It could be nasty and short. If Ellen – and Lorna – ever reached the release stage, they would face a host of dangers and difficulties neither of them knew existed. How would they cope? He watched Ellen begin a cautious exploration of the pen. Release seemed a distant prospect. But at least the lioness had a chance now to become familiar with the kind of terrain she might one day roam. Her enclosure’s fencing had been erected around existing vegetation, a chunk of the savannah. Ellen brushed against it, close to where Joel was standing. He spoke to her.
‘It’ll be all right; you’ll see,’ he said softly. ‘You’ll be well cared for. And I’ll be here for a while.’
Ellen recognised his voice. She paused. Their eyes met. Joel thought he saw a kind of appeal in Ellen’s gaze. He wondered whether he was imagining it. But he answered anyway. ‘She’s coming,’ he whispered. ‘Soon.’ He hoped he was speaking the truth.
By now Lorna was exulting in her freedom. She had become scornful of humans and their feeble endeavours in the forest. She and the honey badger hunted throughout the woodland and they met no rivals.
One evening after filling their bellies the two animals lay by the stream. They were entirely confident in their surroundings.
‘Have you ever thought,’ Lorna asked lazily, ‘of going beyond the forest?’
‘No,’ the badger answered at once. ‘I don’t need to. I have everything I want right here.’
‘Aren’t you just a little curious?’
‘Not me, no. Why should I be? This is my territory.’
Lorna stared at him with a hint of contempt. ‘Don’t you want to enlarge it?’
The badger sat up. ‘What’s on your mind, lion?’
‘I’ll tell you,’ Lorna answered. ‘Bigger prey! I remember some creatures I saw soon after my escape. I didn’t understand about hunting then. They’re still there, beyond the trees; you can hear them making their weak, silly cries. They’re fat, Ratel. Very fat. I think they’d be easy game.’
‘The humans are out there,’ the badger protested. ‘You’re safer in here now they leave you alone.’
‘Humans!’ Lorna scoffed. ‘They don’t know what I’m thinking! They wouldn’t be expecting me. And, besides, they shut themselves in their dens at night. I’d have a clear field. Why don’t you come too? See the sport. Don’t you always follow me?’
‘Mostly,’ the badger replied. He had no real desire to be part of Lorna’s plan. ‘When is this to be?’
‘When I need a kill.’
Ratel considered. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘You go first. If it goes well, I’ll come the next time.’
Lorna said disdainfully, ‘Of course it will go well. But I don’t require your help, so you must do as you please.’
Lorna was keen to test herself. Even before hunger really asserted itself again, she was ready for the prowl. The honey badger followed as far as the woodland’s rim. Lorna aimed for the sheep field she remembered so vividly, and hesitated on the edge of t
he trees.
‘Is anything there?’ the badger asked.
‘I don’t hear them,’ Lorna growled. ‘Maybe they’ve moved.’
‘Try another time,’ the smaller animal suggested.
‘Nonsense. They’re out there somewhere. And I’m going to find them,’ Lorna finished positively.
‘Be careful, lion. I want you to come back.’
Lorna’s ears cocked but she didn’t answer. She crept into the empty field. In her mind’s eye she could see the mass of plump, top-heavy bodies that had scattered as she ran between them. Where were those funny long faces and dainty feet? She raised herself and walked more boldly across the pasture. A spectral barn owl dived earthwards and scooped up a vole. Nothing else moved.
Lorna paced her way into an adjoining field. And then she heard them. A stray bleat answered by another: a ewe calling its lamb. The lioness hastened towards the sound. White, woolly-coated bodies dotted the far side of the field. Most of the sheep were lying down, chewing incessantly. Some grazed the turf. Lorna picked out a young lamb adrift from the main flock. She sank to her belly and crawled forward, her head straight and still, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on her target. The flock had no reason to be particularly cautious. They had no history of being hunted. Lorna’s progress was easy; the lamb still had its back to her when she made her final dash. It was dead before it could even bleat.
Now the flock saw the killer and panicked. But Lorna merely lugged the lamb away towards the forest, carrying it comfortably in her jaws. She ignored the rest of the sheep then, but the ease with which she had made her kill remained in her memory.