Serafina and the Black Cloak - Robert Beatty Page 0,45
toward her as if it didn’t have a care in the world.
She extended her arm, holding her hand still. The brave little cub slowed down, but it kept coming toward her, watching her, inching closer and closer. When it reached her, it sniffed her fingers and rubbed the side of its mouth along the length of her hand. Serafina smiled, almost giggled, pleased that the cub didn’t fear her.
She sat down in the grass, and the cub climbed right into her lap, pawing playfully at her fingers. She wrapped her arms around the cub and hugged its warm, fuzzy little body to her chest. It was good to have some company that didn’t scare the living daylights out of her. The other cub came over, and soon she was lovin’ on both of them as they tumbled and rolled around her, and they rubbed themselves against her and purred.
“What are you sweet little babies doing here?” she asked. After all she’d been through, it felt more than agreeable to be accepted by these wonderful little creatures. It felt like a homecoming.
Soon, they were all up and about. She chased the cubs around the glade, pretending to swat at them with her paw, then they chased her. She got down on her hands and knees. One of the cubs ran behind the pedestal of the stone angel, came around the other side, and peeked at her, his dark little eyes blinking as he pretended to stalk her. He darted out playfully, running sideways with his back arched into a mock attack as he leapt upon her. Then the other cub joined in, grabbing her arms and legs, trying to tackle her, and soon they were all brawling and growling. The adorable, kittenish attack made Serafina laugh out loud.
And her laughter carried through the misty forest.
She kept playing and wrestling with the cubs, feeling a pure and oblivious childlike pleasure that she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Then she sensed severe and immediate danger. She turned and saw something hurtling toward her out of the mist. At first, it seemed to be floating like a ghost, but then she realized it wasn’t a ghost at all.
It was running. Fast. Straight toward her.
A wave of dread washed through her as she realized that by playing with these cubs she’d made a terrible, terrible error in judgment. The angry, full-grown mother mountain lion charged toward her. The lioness would kill her to defend her cubs.
Fear jolted Serafina into motion. The lioness leapt through the air, her claws and teeth bared. Serafina knew she was going to die, but she tried to duck. The impact of the lioness’s attack slammed into her so hard that it knocked her off her feet. She and the vicious beast tumbled across the grass in a brawling, snarling mass of hissing, teeth, and claws.
Serafina battled with all her strength. She had never in her life fought anything so physically powerful. She knew there was no way to defeat her; she was but a kitten compared to this wild beast. Her only hope was to get away as fast as she could. She kicked her feet and flailed her fists. She beat the lioness with a stick, screaming all the while.
When the lioness tried to bite her neck and deliver her deadly blow, Serafina slammed her hands into the lioness’s face and tore at her eyes, then whirled herself into a wild, twisting frenzy. Her attacks distracted the big cat just long enough to break herself free. Then she sprang up and darted away like a scalded dog.
The lioness chased her, but Serafina sprinted with an incredible burst of fear-induced speed. She scrambled into the thick bushes like a squirrel and just kept running. She ran and she ran. She ran until her whole chest hurt with thumping pain.
She crossed a rocky stream, then went through a thick stand of pines, and then delved into a thicket of thistles and blackberry thorns. She climbed up hills and over rocks and just kept running as far as she could.
Finally, exhausted, she ducked beneath a bush like a rabbit and listened for the sounds of her pursuer. She did not hear her.
She imagined that the lioness, satisfied that she had chased off the intruder, had returned to her cubs. She could picture the mother lion scolding them for playing with a stranger and pushing them angrily back into their den beneath the roots of the tree.