How I ran away

How I saved myself

No hero is coming to save me. Nobody. But I’ve long learned not to rely on others.

                I turn slightly. Then it comes to me. What to do when a lion attacks. Never turn your back to it.

                Oh.

                I turn back.

                It growls. Too late to scare it away. Another growing growl at the back of the beast’s throat. Instinct tells me to run. I know otherwise.

                Never break eye-contact. Never turn your back to it.

                The golden eyes are mesmerizing, hypnotizing—petrifying. Can't look away.

                Turn my back to it? I know enough to watch my back. Not to leave it exposed. I crouch down. still on my feet. Still looking the still animal in the eye. My hands grope the forest ground. Rocks. Twigs. All scattered around. I pick up the first rock larger than a pebble that my hand hits. It’s hard. A snowball in my hand.

                I whack my fist across its face. It taggers back with a groan. Sad. But I treasure my life before an animals.

                Before giving it a chance to recover, I hurtle the stone at it. Hit’s him in the neck.

                Falls back.

                I hate the pained look in his eyes. Confused, looks like I’ve won.

                But I’m not too smug. This lion doesn’t look like the type that would run away. Lions are not the king of the jungle for nothing. And this king just got angry.

                A roar. Not like the growl before. An all out roar. I’m sure the whole forest heard it. A few birds launched themselves from the surrounding trees making a rustle of leaves.

                The lion charges.

                I dive out of the way. A claw scratches my arm. It leaves three angry red marks. Not deep though. But it stings.

                I scramble to my feet as the lion twists around. Stay on your feet. The lion will try to go for my face and throat. If I’m down it will kill me. My leg burns under the pressure. I ignore it.

                I’m going to die. I know it. But that doesn’t matter. What I learned in life is to never go down without a fight. Those words helped me so much. And I go by my advice.

                The lion charges again. This time I’m ready. Not to jump. To fight.

                I take a swipe at his face. Knife-like teeth pierce my skin.

                “Ah!”

                There have been reports of people being attacked by a lion and surviving by fighting back. I’m pretty sure there is a bigger survival rate for those that flee. Not that I ever checked. About to try it out.

                Twist around as he runs at me again. He jumps. A graceful arc through the air. And I dive under. Dive too late and he’ll be on top of me. But I do it just in time.

                Slide under. Jump to my feet. No turning back. I run. The burning pain almost makes me drop. But I run.

                No way to outrun a lion.

                Stupid. Stupid. I know. I’m supposed to look least like prey. Spread my arms out and shout. Now I remember. But he is momentarily confused. Wasn’t I just in front of him? I dived underneath and past. Running.

                It is luck really. Pure luck that saves my life. Pure luck. I hate luck like I hate heroes—I love it. There is no time to climb a tree. Glad I don’t try. I won’t make it in my state. I run past an inviting one with low branches but I feel the lion turn around. Realize where I am. Should’ve stayed still and snuck away. Too late. I know it sees me because I feel it. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

                I fall. Wasn’t looking where I was going. I fall.

                But solid ground doesn’t meet my feet. I go down beneath. Icy cold. A splash erupts.

                Water. I jumped into a small lake in middle of the forest. And that saves my life. Luck as I said.

                Stay underwater or swim? My feet barely reach the floor but at least they do. Or else I would drown. My heart is racing. Breath short. All sweat is washed away by the water. If I swim I don’t know how long I can carry on for. Or how long the water goes on for. It’s all inky black in the night. That’s why I didn’t realize it until I plunged. I could freeze by staying. Am already starting to. Stick my face above the water for a breath. Just my face.

                I see him.

                Standing still. Eyes out at the water. I never really saw it before. Can't really notice stuff when I’m in a life or death situation. Golden fur with a mane blowing back in the night’s air that has me dying in the water. He has a brave face on. Or at least what I think is brave for an animal. Lions. I used to like them. Support all that ‘save the lion’ stuff. Anytime anything tries to kill you, you automatically develop a strong feeling of hate towards it. Or at least I do.

                How long will it take for him to walk away? I’m barely treading water here. Freezing.

                After a very long minute, it turns and walks away.

                After a murderous ten second wait I trudge to shore. My burned, torn, clothes weighs me down. Not that there is much left to way me down with. Note to self: find new clothes.

                It takes a good ten minutes to start a fire. Another few hours to get feeling back to my body. Amazing how things can freeze in minutes but take so long to go back to how it is.

                When the fire is out and I am ready to sleep. More than ready, the sun is rising. Purple paints the sky. Pink joins it.

                I close my eyes. Asleep before I set out a bed. Asleep before I plan out the next move I’m making.

                But that’s okay.

                I already know what I’m doing next.

                I’m not moving blind.