Chapter 6: The Hunt
Catherine’s hand gripped the doorknob, her fingers cold with fear. The heavy silence outside was broken only by the soft rustling of the trees, but it wasn’t just the wind anymore. She could feel it—something out there was moving, watching. And it was getting closer.
The cub, still curled up on the porch, hadn’t moved. Its body was small, fragile, and exposed in the open space. Catherine’s mind raced. Her instincts screamed at her to go outside, to do something, but every rational thought told her that she had no business interfering. She had already broken the rules by feeding it water. She couldn’t risk making things worse.
Yet, as her eyes flicked between the cub and the dark forest beyond, the primal instinct to protect rose within her. She couldn’t leave the cub to face whatever was out there alone. She had to act.
With a final, decisive breath, Catherine opened the door just a crack, the cold air rushing in, making her skin prickle. She stepped outside, careful not to make a sound, her eyes scanning the porch and the surrounding darkness. The growl had stopped, but the tension in the air remained thick, almost unbearable.
She crouched low, keeping her body pressed close to the door, her breath shallow. The cub hadn’t noticed her yet. It was still huddled in the shade, its small form barely visible in the dim light. Catherine’s heart pounded in her chest, her every instinct telling her to stay hidden, to wait for the rangers. But the clock was ticking.
Then, just as she began to pull back inside, she saw movement in the trees. A flash of something large, powerful, stepping out from the shadows.
The mother leopard. Catherine’s breath caught in her throat.
The mother’s golden eyes locked onto the cub, and Catherine felt a jolt of fear mixed with awe. The growl came again, lower this time, more urgent. The cub, still unaware of its mother’s presence, remained motionless, the air around it charged with the weight of the moment.
The mother took a slow, deliberate step toward the porch, her body low to the ground, eyes fixed on her cub. Her muscles rippled beneath her sleek coat, and Catherine could almost hear the quiet snap of tension in the air. Every movement, every step was measured, controlled. Catherine knew the mother leopard wasn’t playing; she was moving in for a reunion, but the danger was still real.
Catherine held her breath, not daring to make a sound, watching as the mother leopard approached.
The cub’s head lifted. It could sense something.
But then, before Catherine could react, she heard something else—something faint, a shift in the underbrush. It was a human sound. Someone was approaching from behind the trees.
Her blood ran cold.
The poachers.
In that instant, Catherine realized that what had begun as a simple act of kindness had spiraled into something far darker.