Free Zambezi Seduction by Tamara Cape Page A

rolling waves. Kerry was thrilled and more than a little frightened. It was unmistakable. Lions . . . a fight – almost certainly. Something – the zebra carcass, a territorial dispute, mating rights – had led to a titanic struggle. It continued, varying in intensity, for fifteen minutes, then abruptly stopped. There was quiet; even the hyenas were silenced.
    “Thought I heard lions,” Chad said, surfacing from his slumber.
    “You did. I thought of waking you.”
    “ The pride males warning others to keep their distance. Could have been a fight, a scrap over territory.” After a moment he sighed sleepily. “Comfortable?”
    “No, but I’ d rather be inside the car than out there.”
    He laughed softly . Kerry listened to his breathing become regular once again and wished she could find sleep so easily. She tried to relax and it seemed to work. Just as she felt herself drifting away she heard a jackal call. It was close – the other side of the river. As it ended there came another sound which brought her fully alert. She adjusted the seat-back to the upright position.
    What she had heard was the guttural cough of a lion – she would have bet money on it.
    And the sound had come from close quarters.
    Had the loser of the fight come down the track to the river to drink and sooth his wounds? And had a passing jackal chanced on his blood spoor?
    Kerry realized something: the breeze from the west would carry their scent to the lion. She was frightened – she shook Chad awake and told him what she had heard. He sat up and made a token show of listening and looking around before settling back.
    “It’ s nothing . . . river sounds or a hyena up at the kill,” he mumbled dismissively. “Go to sleep.”
    Despite his opinion, Kerry had enough confidence in her own judgement to remain wary. Chad had been sleeping at the time of the noises and waking him had been a mistake. It was impossible for her to sleep now. She looked out on the darkness, searching for she knew not what, her body tense.
    Although it was dark she knew the lay of the land. She’d had nothing else to look at all afternoon. On Chad’s side lay the track and some Mopani trees. In front and on her side, open ground. Behind was the river, shrouded by a ghostly mist. A cloud layer, remnant of the storm, hid the moon.
    She wondered if her ears had deceived her for now there was only the monotonous chorus of night insects and frogs noisily celebrating the coming of rain. Little by little she began to discern other noises: tree branches rubbing together, the purr of a nightjar.
    Then the noises were forgotten. There was movement off to the side . . . blurred and eerie. Slow, silent movement.
    Kerry rubbed her eyes and looked again. Nothing. Fatigue and tension were getting to her.
    S he saw it again.
    In spite of the cool night, her skin felt clammy. Hardly daring to breathe she watched the pale form move f urther up the track from the river. Distance and darkness made definition impossible.
    She put off waking Chad. He would not be amused to be wakened a second time , especially if what she saw turned out to be shifting moonlight or a passing antelope. Such an outcome would leave her feeling small and foolish.
    A buck? She tried to convince herself, but deep down she could not accept it. Instinct told her predator: lion, leopard or hyena. Had she witnessed the stealthy approach of a hunting cat?
    If so, what prey was it stalking?
    Chad slept on. The jackal yelped again. Kerry waited for a roaring riposte to confirm her suspicions. She watched the open ground in front of the car. Whatever she had seen was heading that way. She felt like the man-on-watch on a cruiser trying to locate an enemy battleship that radar tells you is there but which lies hidden in a fog. She sensed something in front of the car . . . or was it her imagination?
    Head thrust forward touching the windscreen, she watched the spot like a gundog working in heather. There was only one