Chapter 12: The Clash of Survival
The mother leopard exploded into motion, a blur of fur and muscle. Her roar shattered the air, fierce and primal, as she charged the poacher with the speed and power of a predator in defense of her young. Catherine’s heart hammered in her chest as the world seemed to spin around her. The poacher, caught off guard, barely had time to react. His tranquilizer gun swung wildly in his hands, but the mother leopard was already upon him.
With one powerful swipe, she knocked the weapon from his hands, sending it skittering across the ground. The poacher’s eyes went wide with shock as he stumbled backward, falling hard against the earth. He scrambled to his feet, his hands reaching for his belt, but it was too late. The leopard’s teeth gleamed as she leaped, her claws extending like daggers.
Catherine, frozen for a split second in awe of the sheer ferocity of the mother’s defense, snapped back into action. The cub was still there on the porch, its tiny body trembling with fear, but it hadn’t moved. She couldn’t let the poacher take it.
“Move! Get away from the porch!” Catherine shouted to the cub, her voice high with panic.
But the cub didn’t move. Its small body remained still, its eyes wide and confused, its instinct not yet guiding it to safety. Catherine’s heart clenched, but there was no time to think. She had to do something.
The first poacher was trying to regain his balance, scrambling away from the leopard’s vicious swipes. The sound of the second poacher moving through the trees reached her ears—a soft crackle of branches—too close, far too close.
Catherine bolted forward, reaching the cub. She grabbed it by the scruff of its neck, her fingers shaking as she pulled it closer to her chest. The cub let out a small, frightened squeal, but Catherine kept moving. She could feel its tiny heartbeat, the warmth of its body against her own, but she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t risk it being caught.
Behind her, the sounds of the struggle continued. The mother leopard was relentless, her growls rising into the air like a battle cry, the poacher’s shouts muffled by the chaos. Catherine didn’t dare turn around to see what was happening—she had to keep the cub safe.
She reached the edge of the porch, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her legs burning from the sudden movement. The second poacher was moving closer, and Catherine knew they had only moments before he would be upon them.
The mother leopard was still fighting, but how long could she hold them off?
Catherine looked over her shoulder. The poacher was almost upon them. And the other poacher wasn’t far behind.
The question now was: Could they make it out of this alive?