found.
Chapter 10
At now nearly 4:00 p.m., I realized that if I didn’t find the main road and Peter soon I’d lack shelter and warmth for the night. I had only ninety minutes until the gates closed at five thirty and probably thirty minutes of light left after that. While I might be lucky enough to run into some tourists doing a night drive, chances were slim. Instinct insisted that the Limpopo River had to be close, but in what direction? A lovely slim lizard with a long, electric-blue tail and striped body wiggled out into the ground before me. Clearly harmless, he now seemed my only friend, and so I directed the question at him.
“So which way do you think I should go, little guy?” I asked as the lizard basked in the bright sun. The reptile twitched its vivid blue tail and, considering that as much of a sign as anything else, I re-shouldered my backpack and began trudging in the direction his tail pointed.
A light cloud cover darkened the sky. While threatening no rain, it did succeed in confusing me as to the sun’s true direction. I walked slowly, hoping I was headed east. The late afternoon grew chilly and my stomach ached from tension. Worse yet, I seemed to be having an allergic reaction because my skin itched and crawled underneath my damp clothing. An unseen root caught at my trainer and I plunged facedown into the dirt, eating sand. Spitting and coughing, I dragged myself into a shallow indentation in the soil not far from some acacia trees.
Like a hopeless child I burst into tears, the salt stinging my torn cheek. Despair visited me that hour just before dusk as I lay trembling, curled into a tight ball in a fruitless effort to try to retain my waning body heat. Black ants scurried near my face and the evening sounds escalated, adding to my ripening fear.
It was then I spotted her. Her eyes glowed yellow in the dimming light as her elfish ears tilted toward me. She remained frozen in mid-stride as she analyzed how viable a meal I’d make. How had it come to this?
The cat’s yellow eyes bored into my hazel ones. Never a champion at staring contests, something broke inside me. Whether it was fear, despair about Peter and my situation, stupidity, or some belated sense of courage that propelled me, I’ll never know.
I suddenly lurched to my feet, screaming and roaring, clapping my hands together like some frenzied exercise nut performing clownish jumping jacks. The feline’s eyes flamed and she leaped—not at me but away, springing gracefully over low bushes and grass. Madness overtook my senses and I chased her, screaming like a wild banshee. I remained as sure-footed and almost as swift as she. The caracal suddenly leaped, springing in a graceful arch that landed her upon the sandy shores of the river.
I stopped like some sort of demented lemming halted at the edge of the cliff it had nearly plunged over. Standing gratefully upon the rocky embankment, I stared once again at the wide Limpopo. The frightened cat had led me to its sluggishly moving waters. I sank down upon my bottom and gazed at its banks, cherishing its wide, languid shores like a lost lover regained. The distant grunting of submerged hippos echoing through the riverbank stirred up a belated sense of reason in my fatigued brain. With little chance of finding the main road before dark, I had to face the fact that I was stuck in the bush for the night. I tried to remember all the tidbits of information Peter had shared about his walking safaris. I recalled how he and his clients had slept atop their jeeps in a portable tent—hoisted away from lions, snakes, and other harmful creatures.
Scanning the curving banks of the river, I searched for an elevated place to shelter. Perhaps one of those huge fig trees I’d climbed after escaping the hijackers would do. In its protective branches I could craft a nest for the night. After a cautious quarter of a mile, I stumbled upon the perfect
Chapter 10
At now nearly 4:00 p.m., I realized that if I didn’t find the main road and Peter soon I’d lack shelter and warmth for the night. I had only ninety minutes until the gates closed at five thirty and probably thirty minutes of light left after that. While I might be lucky enough to run into some tourists doing a night drive, chances were slim. Instinct insisted that the Limpopo River had to be close, but in what direction? A lovely slim lizard with a long, electric-blue tail and striped body wiggled out into the ground before me. Clearly harmless, he now seemed my only friend, and so I directed the question at him.
“So which way do you think I should go, little guy?” I asked as the lizard basked in the bright sun. The reptile twitched its vivid blue tail and, considering that as much of a sign as anything else, I re-shouldered my backpack and began trudging in the direction his tail pointed.
A light cloud cover darkened the sky. While threatening no rain, it did succeed in confusing me as to the sun’s true direction. I walked slowly, hoping I was headed east. The late afternoon grew chilly and my stomach ached from tension. Worse yet, I seemed to be having an allergic reaction because my skin itched and crawled underneath my damp clothing. An unseen root caught at my trainer and I plunged facedown into the dirt, eating sand. Spitting and coughing, I dragged myself into a shallow indentation in the soil not far from some acacia trees.
Like a hopeless child I burst into tears, the salt stinging my torn cheek. Despair visited me that hour just before dusk as I lay trembling, curled into a tight ball in a fruitless effort to try to retain my waning body heat. Black ants scurried near my face and the evening sounds escalated, adding to my ripening fear.
It was then I spotted her. Her eyes glowed yellow in the dimming light as her elfish ears tilted toward me. She remained frozen in mid-stride as she analyzed how viable a meal I’d make. How had it come to this?
The cat’s yellow eyes bored into my hazel ones. Never a champion at staring contests, something broke inside me. Whether it was fear, despair about Peter and my situation, stupidity, or some belated sense of courage that propelled me, I’ll never know.
I suddenly lurched to my feet, screaming and roaring, clapping my hands together like some frenzied exercise nut performing clownish jumping jacks. The feline’s eyes flamed and she leaped—not at me but away, springing gracefully over low bushes and grass. Madness overtook my senses and I chased her, screaming like a wild banshee. I remained as sure-footed and almost as swift as she. The caracal suddenly leaped, springing in a graceful arch that landed her upon the sandy shores of the river.
I stopped like some sort of demented lemming halted at the edge of the cliff it had nearly plunged over. Standing gratefully upon the rocky embankment, I stared once again at the wide Limpopo. The frightened cat had led me to its sluggishly moving waters. I sank down upon my bottom and gazed at its banks, cherishing its wide, languid shores like a lost lover regained. The distant grunting of submerged hippos echoing through the riverbank stirred up a belated sense of reason in my fatigued brain. With little chance of finding the main road before dark, I had to face the fact that I was stuck in the bush for the night. I tried to remember all the tidbits of information Peter had shared about his walking safaris. I recalled how he and his clients had slept atop their jeeps in a portable tent—hoisted away from lions, snakes, and other harmful creatures.
Scanning the curving banks of the river, I searched for an elevated place to shelter. Perhaps one of those huge fig trees I’d climbed after escaping the hijackers would do. In its protective branches I could craft a nest for the night. After a cautious quarter of a mile, I stumbled upon the perfect
Similar Books
