Jonathan Reed, muscles taut and heart pounding, drops his pack and sprints toward the woman. Dust swirls around his boots as he shouts for the lions to back away, brandishing a long stick and flares from his belt.
"Stay behind me! I'll keep them off you!"
The woman glances up, her face streaked with tears, voice trembling as she calls for help.
With desperate energy, Jonathan shouts, waving his flares and stumbling back, blood spattering on the dry grass. The pride hesitates, then melts away into the sun-dappled undergrowth, their eyes lingering on him.
"Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"
The woman nods, her gaze unreadable, as Jonathan collapses to his knees, clutching his wound.
Inside the canvas shelter, the air smells of smoke and antiseptic as Jonathan wraps his injured arm. The quiet is heavy, broken only by the distant roar of lions and the crackle of the campfire.
"How did you end up out here, alone, with those lions?"
The woman sits by the fire, her lips curling into a dark smile.
the woman's[/@ch_2] face as she begins to laugh—a low, unsettling sound that chills Jonathan.]
"I was never in any danger. The lions are my family," she says, voice rich with amusement. She leans forward, eyes gleaming like amber in the lamplight.
"They weren’t attacking me. They were helping me get more supplies."
Jonathan’s confusion deepens; his jaw tightens, and his eyes dart nervously toward the tent flap.
Jonathan staggers backward as the lions fan out, their muscles rippling under moonlight. The woman calmly begins rifling through Jonathan’s supplies, tossing aside maps and rations.
"What are you doing? Please—"
The lions close in, their jaws opening wide, and all pretenses of safety vanish.
When she is finished, the woman stands, brushing dust from her clothing, and whistles. The pride, sated, slinks away with her into the midnight wilderness, leaving behind only torn canvas and a story the wind carries across the savanna.
