Chapter 9: A Clash in the Shadows
The poacher stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock as the mother leopard launched herself toward him. The ferocity in her attack was nothing short of terrifying—her growl reverberated through the trees, a sound full of warning and wrath. The poacher scrambled back, stumbling over the underbrush, but the mother’s speed was too much. She was a blur of tawny fur and muscle, her teeth flashing as she closed the distance between them.
Catherine’s heart leapt into her throat as she watched the chaos unfold. The cub was still on the porch, too small and fragile to understand the magnitude of the danger, but Catherine couldn’t afford to take her eyes off the fight. The poacher, struggling to regain his footing, finally managed to pull a tranquilizer gun from his belt, but the mother leopard was too quick. She swiped at him with her powerful paws, knocking the weapon from his hands before he could aim.
A muffled shout escaped his lips as he staggered backward, but the leopard was relentless. Catherine could see the tension in the poacher’s movements as he tried to retreat, but the mother leopard kept her ground, her eyes locked onto him. The poacher knew he was in real danger now. He scrambled to his feet and made a run for it, but the mother’s low growl followed him like a shadow.
The other poacher, hidden in the trees, was watching the scene unfold. He was waiting for the right moment to act, but Catherine knew that time was running out. She couldn’t let the poachers take the cub—she couldn’t let them harm it or its mother.
With trembling hands, Catherine reached into her pocket and grabbed her phone, dialing the ranger station. The line clicked through, but the voice that answered was not what she had expected.
“This is Catherine Morrison. The poachers—” she started, her words cut off by the sound of more rustling in the woods.
“I know,” the voice on the other end interrupted, calm but urgent. “We’ve been tracking them for a while. Stay low. We’re on our way, but you need to stay out of sight.”
The adrenaline coursing through Catherine’s veins made it hard to think clearly. She could hear the poacher behind her, moving closer, but she couldn’t move—couldn’t risk making a sound. Her pulse thudded in her ears as she glanced over at the porch, watching the cub huddling, unaware of the danger closing in.
The mother leopard had paused, watching the retreating poacher, but she didn’t follow him. Instead, her eyes flicked toward Catherine, and for a moment, their gazes locked. In that instant, Catherine knew the mother had made her choice. She wasn’t just protecting her cub. She was protecting all of them.
Suddenly, the underbrush cracked again, and Catherine felt a chill run down her spine.
The second poacher was close—too close.
The question now was: could they make it out before it was too late?