Free Skillful Death by Ike Hamill Page A

move.
    He readied himself. As soon as the boy got close enough, Constantine planned to burst from the bamboo with his second-best flint blade raised. The group of boys weaved and turned, like an earthbound flock of birds. Constantine grew impatient and the lump on his head throbbed every time the children screamed with delight.
    He rose to his feet and inched towards the edge of the bamboo. A group of girls, way up near the walnut grove, screamed and pointed in Constantine’s direction. He knew the boys would soon look his way as well, ruining his surprise attack. He stepped fast towards the maples where the boys played.
    As Constantine cleared the bamboo, a flash of amber to his left drew his eye. His jaw dropped open as he saw the speed with which the creature to his left moved. It was as thick as a horse, but not as tall. It had the body and face of a cat, but framing its face was a huge mane of auburn hair.  
    Constantine sprinted after the cat, which sprinted towards the pack of boys.
    As the girls continued to scream, the rest of the crowd all seemed to spot the cat at the same time. The boys stopped running, frozen in their tracks as the cat closed the distance. Up on the hill, some men grabbed whatever could serve as a weapon and came fast. Other men and women boosted the young and old up into low branches so they could climb to safety. The majority of people just stood, stunned.
    The blond boy, wearing the suit of a predator, moved to the front of his group and raised his arms like a bear. Constantine accelerated as the big cat slowed. The cat slowed to a stalk and hunched its shoulders, preparing to leap at the blond boy.  
    The boy stood his ground. The men running down the hill meant to scare the cat away. Constantine didn’t even consider the safety of the group, or self-preservation. He meant to kill that cat simply because he wanted its skin.  
    The enormous cat seemed to make up its mind and wiggled as it gathered its legs underneath itself. Constantine transferred the flint to his left hand and jumped over the tufted tail. His feet landed on the cat’s haunches and he meant to throw himself forward, plunge his flint into all that hair, and find its neck.  
    Constantine sprung forward. He raised his flint-hand high, ready to strike. His other hand reached forward to grab the mane. But the cat flipped. It moved in a way Constantine couldn’t fathom. It moved so fast that Constantine’s sharp eyes couldn’t track it. In defiance of inertia and gravity, the cat flipped over. Instead of landing on its back, Constantine found himself falling towards its snarling jaws. The cat flipped so fast it seemed to turn inside out instead of spinning. Its giant paws, as big as the feet of draft horse, opened wide. Its yellow claws, so sharp at the ends that they were translucent, twinkled in the dappled sunlight filtering through the maple canopy.
    Constantine fell into the cat’s embrace. Its strong arms wrapped around his torso and he felt the claws clutching his back. His flint couldn’t reach the cat’s neck, but he brought it down into the bunched meat of the cat’s shoulder, and he stabbed and pulled. That cat’s teeth sunk into Constantine’s wolf-skin cap. As Constantine’s flint tore a ragged gash in the cat’s shoulder, the cat screamed. The beast swung its head off to the side, gnashing its teeth a hair away from Constantine’s arm.
    The cat’s hind legs tucked in under Constantine’s hips and it pushed, kicking him away.
    Constantine found himself flying through the air again. This time, he flew away from the giant cat. He saw the men pulling to a stop near the blond boy. Two men grabbed the boy by his raised bear arms and dragged him backwards. The cat flipped back to its feet and found itself facing a growing wall of men. Each man held a stick, or rock, or hunk of metal. The men stood in a line and yelled at the cat. It roared its reply. The force of the sound drove the men back a half step.