Chapter 4: The Silence After
Catherine’s heart was pounding in her chest, her breath caught in her throat as she pressed her face against the cool windowpane. The rustling sound outside had grown louder, but it wasn’t the familiar rustle of wind through the leaves or the simple shuffle of small animals. It was heavier, deliberate. And it was getting closer.
Her mind raced, trying to piece together what it could be. Was it the mother leopard returning for her cub? Or was it something more dangerous? Her pulse quickened at the thought. The silence around her seemed to stretch, as though everything in the world had paused, waiting for something to happen.
She hesitated at the window, her fingers pressed against the glass. The cub was still curled up on the porch, its small body trembling slightly in the heat, but it didn’t seem alarmed. It didn’t move, didn’t stir in response to the sounds. Catherine’s instinct told her that the cub had already become too accustomed to humans, too trusting, too dependent. That could be dangerous.
She looked back outside, her eyes scanning the tree line. The sound was unmistakable now—a heavy footfall, a crack of a branch underfoot, and the soft swish of grass being disturbed. Something was out there. She wasn’t sure what it was, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, her senses heightened as she realized the danger she might be facing.
Another rustle, closer this time, followed by a low, guttural sound. It was unmistakable—a growl.
Catherine’s breath hitched. She knew that sound. It was the unmistakable warning of a big cat.
Her heart raced as panic settled into her stomach. No, she thought, it can’t be. But the growl came again, this time louder, more insistent. There was no mistaking it now. The mother leopard had arrived. But why hadn’t she shown herself sooner? Why was she so close to the house, so close to the cub?
Catherine stepped away from the window slowly, her mind racing. The rangers hadn’t arrived yet, and she didn’t know how much time she had before the situation escalated. She could hear the soft scrape of claws on the wood outside, the unmistakable sign that the cub had begun to stir, likely drawn by the sound of its mother.
The tension in the air was thick, almost unbearable. Catherine knew she had to make a decision, and fast. She could lock herself inside and wait for the rangers, but that would do nothing for the cub or the situation outside. She was torn—her instincts told her to step out, to protect the cub. But could she trust her instincts?
A faint, almost imperceptible noise made her freeze.
A shadow flickered at the edge of the porch. Something large was moving in the dark.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Was it the mother? Or something else?