they saw the lion’s stomach, panting.
Sophie froze. She and the lion locked eyes. Kurt gestured, trying to get her to come towards him, but she did not see him.
The lion held its head up, flattened its ears and opened its mouth, but made no sound. Its head was a round mass of muscle and bone, but beneath that, dark red blood streamed down the orange crossbow bolt and fell to the ground in an arc as it strained its muscles.
Sophie raised her spear and took a step forward. Kurt whispered, “Are you crazy? Get over here!” She took another step, then ran straight toward it, dropping the knife, grabbing the bottom of the spear with her free hand, and driving it down into the lion’s shoulder, overhead, as if she were driving a flag into the earth. It swatted at her, catching her knee, and she fell back, bleeding. Kurt dropped the ball of concrete and ran to the cat, yelling, but it didn’t move. Its eyes were blank, its pink tongue out, blood dripping from its mouth and wounds.
Sophie sucked in air and clutched her knee.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“She wanted me to kill her. To finish it. I saw it in her eyes.” She winced and rocked back and forth. “Man, that really freaking hurts.”
“Let me see.” He pulled her fingers apart. There were two gashes, three inches long and about an inch apart, that went to the bone.
“Hold your knee above your heart. Yeah. Like that.” She lay down and held her leg up without bending it. Kurt looked around, found a half-inflated basketball in a nearby driveway, and used it as a prop.
“That’s actually pretty comfortable.”
“Good. You lunatic.” Kurt shook his head, then looked around. “I don’t think this is mating season. It’s fall, right? So this thing’s – how’d you know it was a she?”
“I dunno. I just did.”
“Well, you were right.” He looked at it closely, then pushed its paw away with his baton. “Sorry, girl.” He put his shoe on her jaw, set down his baton, and pulled out his knife. With one sure cut, he severed her jugular and half her neck. No blood spurted. He wiped the blade on his shirt, and pulled Sophie’s spear out of the lion’s shoulder. She was about five feet long, maybe 100 pounds, ribs visible, starved.
“I’m going to get a medical kit. Don’t move around till I get back.” He handed her the spear.
“Can you prop my head up a bit?”
“No. I want your heart at ground level. It’ll reduce the bleeding.”
“OK.” She sighed, and held her spear across her chest. He took off his bloody t-shirt and wrapped it around her knee, tugging the half-knot down tight, then making a bow. As he left, her blood seeped into the shirt, and she felt sleepy.
Bane’s bike was there, but he wasn’t. Kurt unzipped the bag with the medical supplies, and noticed a gym coach’s whistle. He blew it twice.
Bane staggered out of an abandoned booth, one of those tiny, stand-alone buildings that, over the years, had been a photo processor, a hot dog stand, and most recently, a tobacco store.
Kurt walked towards him. “What were you doing in there?”
“Found her kittens. Eyes are open, but they’re pretty weak. Two alive, one dead.”
“Oh, crap. Don’t tell Sophie. She’s gone all Sheena Queen of the Jungle on me. She’ll want to adopt them.”
“Where is she?”
“We found the mountain lion hiding in the bushes next to a house, bleeding out. She and Sophie locked eyes, and then Sophie just hauled off and ran her through with her spear. Got swiped on the leg pretty bad. Gonna need stitches.”
“She killed it?”
“Yeah. You hit it good, but she finished it.”
“Damn. We need to give her an Indian name or something.”
“Won’t Listen to Father,” said Kurt.
Bane chuckled. “Or Sophie Long Spear .”
“That’s not bad.”
Bane nodded.
“But let’s not tell her about the kittens.”
Bane kept nodding. “They’ll die, though.”
“Everything dies,” said Kurt. “I’m stopping
Sophie froze. She and the lion locked eyes. Kurt gestured, trying to get her to come towards him, but she did not see him.
The lion held its head up, flattened its ears and opened its mouth, but made no sound. Its head was a round mass of muscle and bone, but beneath that, dark red blood streamed down the orange crossbow bolt and fell to the ground in an arc as it strained its muscles.
Sophie raised her spear and took a step forward. Kurt whispered, “Are you crazy? Get over here!” She took another step, then ran straight toward it, dropping the knife, grabbing the bottom of the spear with her free hand, and driving it down into the lion’s shoulder, overhead, as if she were driving a flag into the earth. It swatted at her, catching her knee, and she fell back, bleeding. Kurt dropped the ball of concrete and ran to the cat, yelling, but it didn’t move. Its eyes were blank, its pink tongue out, blood dripping from its mouth and wounds.
Sophie sucked in air and clutched her knee.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“She wanted me to kill her. To finish it. I saw it in her eyes.” She winced and rocked back and forth. “Man, that really freaking hurts.”
“Let me see.” He pulled her fingers apart. There were two gashes, three inches long and about an inch apart, that went to the bone.
“Hold your knee above your heart. Yeah. Like that.” She lay down and held her leg up without bending it. Kurt looked around, found a half-inflated basketball in a nearby driveway, and used it as a prop.
“That’s actually pretty comfortable.”
“Good. You lunatic.” Kurt shook his head, then looked around. “I don’t think this is mating season. It’s fall, right? So this thing’s – how’d you know it was a she?”
“I dunno. I just did.”
“Well, you were right.” He looked at it closely, then pushed its paw away with his baton. “Sorry, girl.” He put his shoe on her jaw, set down his baton, and pulled out his knife. With one sure cut, he severed her jugular and half her neck. No blood spurted. He wiped the blade on his shirt, and pulled Sophie’s spear out of the lion’s shoulder. She was about five feet long, maybe 100 pounds, ribs visible, starved.
“I’m going to get a medical kit. Don’t move around till I get back.” He handed her the spear.
“Can you prop my head up a bit?”
“No. I want your heart at ground level. It’ll reduce the bleeding.”
“OK.” She sighed, and held her spear across her chest. He took off his bloody t-shirt and wrapped it around her knee, tugging the half-knot down tight, then making a bow. As he left, her blood seeped into the shirt, and she felt sleepy.
Bane’s bike was there, but he wasn’t. Kurt unzipped the bag with the medical supplies, and noticed a gym coach’s whistle. He blew it twice.
Bane staggered out of an abandoned booth, one of those tiny, stand-alone buildings that, over the years, had been a photo processor, a hot dog stand, and most recently, a tobacco store.
Kurt walked towards him. “What were you doing in there?”
“Found her kittens. Eyes are open, but they’re pretty weak. Two alive, one dead.”
“Oh, crap. Don’t tell Sophie. She’s gone all Sheena Queen of the Jungle on me. She’ll want to adopt them.”
“Where is she?”
“We found the mountain lion hiding in the bushes next to a house, bleeding out. She and Sophie locked eyes, and then Sophie just hauled off and ran her through with her spear. Got swiped on the leg pretty bad. Gonna need stitches.”
“She killed it?”
“Yeah. You hit it good, but she finished it.”
“Damn. We need to give her an Indian name or something.”
“Won’t Listen to Father,” said Kurt.
Bane chuckled. “Or Sophie Long Spear .”
“That’s not bad.”
Bane nodded.
“But let’s not tell her about the kittens.”
Bane kept nodding. “They’ll die, though.”
“Everything dies,” said Kurt. “I’m stopping
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