By Elizabeth Jane Shelton

I braced myself as the oversized Jeep conquered a particularly stubborn pothole. With eight of us crammed into three rows and no roof or doors on the vehicle, I worried I’d be jostled over the side.

My handkerchief slipped off my face, and I pulled it back over my nose and mouth, protecting me against the dust and dirt that whipped up as our driver Pierre, a large Afrikaans-speaking man, sped along Timbavati’s backroads.

Lauren glanced at me. “What’s on your mind?”

“What do you mean?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve got that look like you’re worried about something.”

I chewed my lower lip. “It’s our last day. I have a project due when we get back, and my family is coming to visit, and I still don’t have a birthday present for my sister…”

Lauren shook her head. “We’re in Africa, Ellie! Don’t let your anxiety ruin your last day of vacation!”

I sighed. Lauren was right, as usual. Too bad I couldn’t make my brain and my body agree with her.

Pierre’s radio crackled to life, blaring a woman’s voice in Afrikaans. I perked up and listened carefully, grateful I was in the front. Over our last three days of game drives, I’d picked out the Afrikaans words for the Big Five: rhinos, buffalo, elephants, leopards, and lions. Every tourist wanted to check all of them off the list, and we were only missing one.

The woman spoke for a long time, and when Pierre replied, I clocked the word for “lion.”

My stomach churned, fear and excitement fighting for dominance. With a lion sighting, I’d have officially seen all the Big Five, but… did I really want to? Lions were terrifying. I’d read being eaten by a lion was one of the most painful ways to die.

To be fair, most things terrified me, but at least on this trip, the majority had been far enough away that I could take pictures without panic attacks.

Pierre stopped the vehicle. “Viola’s group spotted a lion, but they’ve lost sight of it. Want to see if we can track it down?”

Lauren raised an eyebrow at me, knowing my aversion. “Your call, Ellie. Can you handle it?”

I took a deep breath. We’d see a lion from a distance, and then I could be done. “We’re in.”

Pierre grinned and took off so fast I had to grip the seat’s front railing. The South African savanna flew by as we navigated to the other side of the private game reserve. Despite the early hour, the late fall sun was already strong enough that I’d shed my jacket, enjoying the warmth on my arms.

In the distance, I spotted a few giraffes—my favorite. Peaceful. Herbivorous. The long-necked mammals still brought a smile to my face, though I’d seen enough of them that I didn’t feel the need to scramble for my camera.

Then we crested a hill, and low brush and flat-topped trees stretched as far as I could see. Thick, tangled brush extended past the top of the vehicle on both sides of the road.

Pierre slowed. “The lion’s supposed to be somewhere in this stretch. Everyone pick a zone and keep a lookout, yeah? You know the drill. Get my attention if you even think you see something.”

I liked the rhythm of tracking—searching the landscape for movement, keeping my balance on the bumpy vehicle, and above all, being patient.

After one pass seeing nothing, we looped around again. And then again. After over an hour of searching, Pierre sighed with disappointment. “We’re almost at time,” he informed us. “We’ll take a bathroom break before one last loop, but I think it’s likely he’s moved on.”

He parked just off the road and jumped out, gesturing for us to follow. “There you go, everyone. Stretch your legs.”

We stopped at least twice on every drive to use the bathroom. Not a real bathroom, of course. Your favorite nearby bush.

Unfortunately, Lauren took the most promising bush, so I sighed and strode toward the brush for a secluded spot to take care of business.

As soon as I neared it, a terrifying grunt-coughing came from the thick foliage. My blood ran cold, and every muscle in my body seized, freezing me in place.

Everyone thinks lions roar, but that’s only when they’re trying to find each other. That cough, on the other hand? That’s the most terrifying sound in the world.

It means you’re the prey.

A massive lion with a shaggy mane charged out of the brush straight toward me. I stumbled backward, my ears ringing. Oh, no. No, no, no. I could not have a panic attack right now!

The lion stopped only a few feet away, close enough for me to see its golden eyes and the shiny tips of its bared teeth. Dimly, I heard Pierre’s urgent voice. “Stay put!”

“What?” I gasped.

“If you run, it will chase! You have to hold your ground!”

My brain screamed to run as fast as I could, but I was still in panic mode, unable to do more than tremble as my body warred against my mind.

The lion turned its massive head in the direction of the vehicle and snarled. I flinched.

With one final cough, it retreated into the brush.

I backed up, still shaking. Instantly Pierre’s arm was around me, guiding me back to the vehicle. “That was amazing! You didn’t even wet yourself!” He laughed. “You just learned the first thing we teach new guides: never run from a lion. Then you only might get eaten.” He grinned at my group. “What do you think? A fitting end to your trip, eh?”

The ringing finally cleared from my ears, and I sucked in air. Had I been breathing? My heart still pounded, but I was alive.

I grinned. Maybe this trip would actually cure my anxiety.

After all, how scary could a deadline be when you’ve been attacked by a lion?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Elizabeth Jane Shelton has loved stories of every kind since she was young, although fantasy is her favorite. She strives to write stories that are both entertaining and meaningful, and she hopes to impact others and honor her Creator with her writing. If she’s not working on a story, it’s probably because she’s writing code at her job as a software engineer.

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