Path of the Jaguar by Vickie Britton, Loretta Jackson Page B
Authors: Vickie Britton, Loretta Jackson
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her the trees grew black and impenetrable, leaving only the barely visible path beneath her feet. For what seemed an eternity she walked through silent darkness.
With relief, Lennea spotted silver threads of light through the damp, quivering branches. She hurried to the bare spot where the trees ended. Up ahead, she could see the outline of a crumbling stone wall, the rough silhouette of the jaguar head.
She stopped—dreading to find what she probably would find—the money missing. Taking one last look around, she approached cautiously and knelt beside the jaguar. The empty navy bag that she had brought from the house bumped against her leg as she slid back the loose stone until she could see the edge of the plastic cover deep in the crevice. Just as she had left it. The hiding place had not been disturbed.
Someone had already searched for the money and had failed to find it! She started to tug at the stone, then having a change of mind, stopped. Why not just leave the money safely buried instead of taking it back to her bedroom?
Lennea rose, aware again of the darkness, the shifting, restless movements of the night. A jungle filled not with stone jaguars but with real ones. What would she do if one would spring out of the jungle into her pathway?
A chirp, a rustle of leaves and branches. No other noises. The darkest part of the path lay before her. She quickened her steps, thinking that she would soon be back at the LaTillas. She paused. That sound close behind her, what had it been?
She whirled around, expecting to see the black form of some animal stalking her. Nothing visible but empty darkness. With each step the path grew harder to follow. The further she went the darker it became until the path ahead became a narrow and impenetrable maze.
She hadn't remembered the path as winding, as a labyrinth. She told herself that her heightened senses were merely seeing more correctly, in more detail. Now she stopped to make sure, to orient herself.
Lennea heard the noise distinctly, not far behind her—the snap of twigs, the faint crush of leaves as if something solid, heavy, were moving after her.
Something was back there! Logic told her it wasn't an animal at all, but a person! She began running. The form was swiftly overtaking her. Human hands grabbed her from behind, hurling her face-down into the underbrush.
Fear numbed the pain in her wrists and elbows as she fought, struggling to free herself from sharp, whip-like branches. Through the tangle of her own hair she saw him, or at least his shadow, only an arm's length away. Surely, he could see her, too, hear the frightened, uneven rasping of her breath there in the darkness.
Slowly, on hands and knees, she inched away from that massive shadow. Then she scrambled, spider-like, to shield herself beneath the cover of dark, wet leaves.
She didn't know how long she crept like some hunted animal through the darkness. She lost all sense of time, place, and motion. When the panic cleared away, she sensed that her attacker was no longer stalking her. For the first time she realized that her blue bag was missing.
That was the reason she was no longer being pursued! Whoever it was had left because he had already taken what he wanted from her. He had grabbed the flight bag—where he thought she had put the money.
Lennea walked through the darkness on shaky legs. Had her attacker been the Mayan who she had seen out here before? Or had it even been a man? She had no clue to the identity of the form. She had only an impression of loose, dark garments and strong, angry hands.
The sharp, acute fear of being followed was gradually replaced by a duller, but no less serious concern. In her haste to lose the man who had been stalking her, she had also lost the path!
Desperately, Lennea searched for the faint trail that led back to the LaTillas'. She worked her way through leafy darkness, pushing aside tangled vines and thick branches. The further she went, the more lost and
With relief, Lennea spotted silver threads of light through the damp, quivering branches. She hurried to the bare spot where the trees ended. Up ahead, she could see the outline of a crumbling stone wall, the rough silhouette of the jaguar head.
She stopped—dreading to find what she probably would find—the money missing. Taking one last look around, she approached cautiously and knelt beside the jaguar. The empty navy bag that she had brought from the house bumped against her leg as she slid back the loose stone until she could see the edge of the plastic cover deep in the crevice. Just as she had left it. The hiding place had not been disturbed.
Someone had already searched for the money and had failed to find it! She started to tug at the stone, then having a change of mind, stopped. Why not just leave the money safely buried instead of taking it back to her bedroom?
Lennea rose, aware again of the darkness, the shifting, restless movements of the night. A jungle filled not with stone jaguars but with real ones. What would she do if one would spring out of the jungle into her pathway?
A chirp, a rustle of leaves and branches. No other noises. The darkest part of the path lay before her. She quickened her steps, thinking that she would soon be back at the LaTillas. She paused. That sound close behind her, what had it been?
She whirled around, expecting to see the black form of some animal stalking her. Nothing visible but empty darkness. With each step the path grew harder to follow. The further she went the darker it became until the path ahead became a narrow and impenetrable maze.
She hadn't remembered the path as winding, as a labyrinth. She told herself that her heightened senses were merely seeing more correctly, in more detail. Now she stopped to make sure, to orient herself.
Lennea heard the noise distinctly, not far behind her—the snap of twigs, the faint crush of leaves as if something solid, heavy, were moving after her.
Something was back there! Logic told her it wasn't an animal at all, but a person! She began running. The form was swiftly overtaking her. Human hands grabbed her from behind, hurling her face-down into the underbrush.
Fear numbed the pain in her wrists and elbows as she fought, struggling to free herself from sharp, whip-like branches. Through the tangle of her own hair she saw him, or at least his shadow, only an arm's length away. Surely, he could see her, too, hear the frightened, uneven rasping of her breath there in the darkness.
Slowly, on hands and knees, she inched away from that massive shadow. Then she scrambled, spider-like, to shield herself beneath the cover of dark, wet leaves.
She didn't know how long she crept like some hunted animal through the darkness. She lost all sense of time, place, and motion. When the panic cleared away, she sensed that her attacker was no longer stalking her. For the first time she realized that her blue bag was missing.
That was the reason she was no longer being pursued! Whoever it was had left because he had already taken what he wanted from her. He had grabbed the flight bag—where he thought she had put the money.
Lennea walked through the darkness on shaky legs. Had her attacker been the Mayan who she had seen out here before? Or had it even been a man? She had no clue to the identity of the form. She had only an impression of loose, dark garments and strong, angry hands.
The sharp, acute fear of being followed was gradually replaced by a duller, but no less serious concern. In her haste to lose the man who had been stalking her, she had also lost the path!
Desperately, Lennea searched for the faint trail that led back to the LaTillas'. She worked her way through leafy darkness, pushing aside tangled vines and thick branches. The further she went, the more lost and
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