Journey to Freedom (7 page)

The sun had moved round. It was glaringly hot. Joel was placing a large container of milk under a bush, and Ellen went to investigate. With some persuasion she managed to lap at it. The milk was refreshing.

‘That’ll do you some good, anyway,’ said Joel. ‘But I wish you’d look at the meat.’

Ellen licked her lips. She gazed at the keeper. Her eyes glinted gold. Joel remembered that expression of appeal. He realised then that Ellen would never recover until she was reunited with her sister.

Day by day Lorna grew stronger, bolder. She returned to the sheep pasture with the honey badger trotting behind her, excited but nervous. He had never lost his distrust of humans.

The night was quiet, but Lorna paused before leaving the cover of the forest. She turned to check on her companion.

‘I’m right behind you,’ said the badger. ‘You smell very strong. I hope the wind is in our favour – we don’t want to alarm the fluffy creatures just yet.’

‘Can’t you smell their fat bodies?’ Lorna cried.

‘Er – no. Your scent tends to drown almost everything else,’ the badger replied. ‘I’m not complaining. It makes me braver.’

The lioness ignored his comments. ‘Come on, let’s hunt!’

In her habitually stealthy way she stole across the field, Ratel keeping directly behind. ‘Spoilt for choice,’ Lorna growled with satisfaction as she saw the flock spread out before her, innocently nibbling at the grass. She turned to the badger. ‘Now, my friend, pick your prey.’

‘Anything. Any one, I’ll go with you.’

‘All right. Let’s – just – creep – a little closer. Now!’

Lorna had selected her victim, this time a fully grown ewe that she noticed moved with a limp. She broke into a run, gaining speed all the while. The badger dropped behind and finally stopped dead to watch the flock flee in every direction. Lorna wasn’t distracted. She stuck resolutely to her intended target, pouncing and hanging on until the lame ewe’s breaths ceased. The badger marvelled at her efficiency, and was suddenly reminded he was supposed to be hunting as well.

Some chubby lambs were trying to screen themselves behind their mothers, and the badger trotted forward purposefully, selecting the fattest and keeping after it, dogging it unswervingly as it skittered about bleating in fright. The badger’s great teeth closed on a woolly hind leg. The lamb broke free, but it was maimed. It hobbled hopelessly after its mother, begging for protection. The ewe half turned and made a courageous run towards the badger, but she was easily outmanoeuvred and the plump lamb was caught. The badger began to tug it away, occasionally dropping it to avoid another fruitless rush from its mother, then taking it up again. In this way he gradually dragged the lamb back to the tree cover.

Lorna was already carrying her prize to one of her favourite spots. She hadn’t seen the badger’s kill. The fierce little predator, panting heavily from his labour,
dragged his trophy to the same place. There was enough meat to supply him for days.

‘You were successful,’ said Lorna coolly. ‘Good. Easy pickings, eh?’

The badger had been hoping for a little more recognition of his efforts. The lamb was a lot bigger than its killer and the badger felt that, for his size, he had performed a really prodigious feat. ‘Not quite so easy for a small animal,’ he gasped. ‘We’re not all giants.’

Lorna was tearing out tufts of wool with her teeth and paid no further attention.

These latest killings did not, of course, go unnoticed. The sheep farmer set a guard on his flock at night. He had no proof of the killer’s identity but he suspected the escaped lion. He was determined to find the necessary evidence, believing Lorna had become a dangerous threat to livestock. In his view if she wasn’t captured soon she should be shot.

There wasn’t a lot of evidence so far; only some bloodstained ground and a few scattered strands of wool. Lorna always carried the remains of her prey, after her first meal, into the cave. As for the badger, he took what he wanted off the lamb he had killed and left Lorna to dispose of the rest. The farmer guessed the hunter would return. He tethered his dogs nearer the flock. He knew no intruder would escape the dogs’ notice and that they would soon rouse their master. In that event he relied on his shotgun to scare the killer away.

Some days passed without incident. Then Lorna was ready for another raid. She began to call for her friend. It was dusk and the badger usually came trotting along when he heard the lion’s rumblings, but on this occasion he didn’t show up. Lorna was unconcerned. She was quite happy to hunt on her own. She went on
her way, still expecting Ratel to appear at some point. She knew where his favourite burrow was, and gave a final call as she passed nearby. There was no response. Lorna accepted that she was on her own.

Further along she heard the badger’s unmistakable squeal. At first she couldn’t locate the sound. She heard it again and looked around irritably. ‘No use calling
me
,’ she growled. ‘You didn’t come when
I
called. If you want to join me, you know where I’m going. Catch me up.’

‘Lion!’ The badger’s chirrup was louder. ‘I’m up here!’

Lorna raised her head and saw movement in one of the tall trees. The badger was busy clawing at something among the branches. There was a tearing sound and suddenly insects were darting all round his head and body, drowning his chirps and whistles with their ferocious buzzing. The badger ignored them and continued to break open their nest. He had discovered a swarm of bees that had made their home in a tree hollow, and knew instinctively that there was honey to be had from the nest; something that was quite irresistible. There were thousands of bees in the hollow and they instantly launched an attack on the animal, but the badger’s extraordinarily thick hide was impervious to the insects’ stings. As he munched on the delicious sweet food, his powerful scent gland got to work, and the bees seemed to become confused. They ceased to attack and crawled all over the tree’s branches and the badger’s body, offering no further resistance.

Lorna watched in bewilderment. She couldn’t understand what was going on. She knew the badger could climb but he was so high up in the tree that he was almost obscured by its foliage. She sat down, expecting him to fall. There was a mild thud. Something had fallen, but certainly not the badger. Lorna sniffed at
the object on the ground; it was a section of the bees’ honeycomb, with many of the bees still attached. Once away from the honey badger’s stupefying odour, they began to function again. Stings at the ready, they automatically returned to the defence of their plundered nest. Lorna’s nose was judged to be the enemy.

The honey badger’s blissful enjoyment of his sticky meal was interrupted by a heartrending roar. Startled, he peered down through the mass of leaves, almost overbalancing. Lorna seemed to be spinning on the spot. Scores of bees had fastened themselves on her, stinging her face, her legs, her shoulders. She whirled about, maddened by the pain, one forepaw then the other swatting in vain at her tormentors. And all the time she roared in protest, in surprise, in agony. In the end in sheer desperation she charged away through the trees, heading for the only place where she thought she might obtain relief: the stream. Slowly the badger lowered himself down the tree-trunk, his great claws digging deep into the bark as he went. He was curious. Quickly demolishing the lump of honey-comb on the ground, he trotted off to find the lioness.

Lorna raced pell-mell for the water, her tawny coat decorated with dead and dying bees. Others still followed her as though drawn by a magnet. She crashed through the undergrowth. Brambles, briars and thorns tore at her limbs but Lorna hardly felt them amid the overriding pain of the bee-stings. At last she neared the stream. Taking an almighty leap, she hurled herself into it and pressed herself to its narrow bed. The cold water rippled over her back and Lorna dipped her sore head under the surface. The last of the bees flew off. Those that had so valiantly sacrificed themselves floated away. Lorna was left to try to soothe her poor throbbing body.

The badger came up, squealing a greeting. His black
and white coat was also studded liberally with bees, but his body didn’t even smart. He regarded Lorna in the water. ‘Are you trying to swim?’

The lioness was so racked by pain that every other sense was obliterated. She didn’t hear the badger, she couldn’t see him and even a trace of his special scent failed to penetrate her swollen nose. At length the pain finally began to subside. Lorna got to her feet and shook herself.

‘You look different,’ the badger remarked. ‘Sort of puffy. And your eyes are nearly closed.’

‘I’m on fire,’ the lioness groaned. ‘I feel as if I’ve been eaten alive.’

‘You have to be careful of bees if you have no defence against them. They don’t bother me.’

‘So I’ve you to thank for the torment I’ve just suffered, have I?’ Lorna looked angry but she was too exhausted by her recent experience to do anything except complain. Ratel knew it and didn’t budge.

‘I’m sorry to see you so out of sorts,’ he said. ‘And you haven’t even had the pleasure of the honey to make up for it.’

‘Honey?’ Lorna grunted. ‘What’s that? A kind of meat?’

‘No.’

‘Whatever it is, it isn’t worth what I’ve endured to get at it. If you’d come hunting with me, none of this would have happened.’

‘Sorry, but I can’t resist the stuff. I
am
a honey badger.’

‘Really? Well, I’m a
meat
lion. And that’s all.’ Lorna pulled herself out of the stream and, still grumbling mightily, plodded to her cave.

‘Shall I – um – rustle something up for you?’ the badger offered.

‘No. I couldn’t eat anything. How could I feel hungry after all that? You can just rustle off!’

The badger was enjoying seeing the vulnerable side of Lorna for once. She always appeared to be so in command on other occasions. He didn’t feel real sympathy because he was incapable of appreciating how painful bee-stings could be. But he marvelled at the way some tiny insects had brought the massive beast so low. Even humans had so far failed to do that.

Lorna nursed her sores and her hurt pride for a while. She didn’t feel like hunting. The sheep farmer began to think that the threat to his animals was lifted. But eventually Lorna’s appetite returned with a vengeance. She set off at once for the pasture, her mouth watering at the prospect of devouring another fat sheep. The honey badger had steered clear of the cave while Lorna was moping. He guessed she wanted to be left alone. Lorna didn’t look out for him as she travelled through the forest. She wasn’t looking for companionship. So it was quite by chance that they encountered each other that night. Their paths crossed near the edge of the woodland.

‘Lion, don’t go that way!’ the badger cried at once. ‘It’s not safe!’

Lorna glared. ‘What are you talking about, Ratel?’

‘There are fierce animals guarding the fluffy ones,’ the badger warned. ‘They yelled at me and their yells brought some humans running. I saw sense and gave up the hunt. I’d rather stay free and eat mice.’

‘Fierce animals?’ Lorna mocked. ‘What kind of fierce animals live round here apart from me?’

‘Well, maybe they wouldn’t bother
you
,’ the honey badger allowed. ‘But what of the humans? I’ve never trusted them. I think it’s a trap.’

Lorna sat on her haunches and considered. ‘Perhaps you’re right about that,’ she said. ‘I must keep one step ahead.’ She growled, angered by having her favourite prey placed out of bounds.

‘You look as though you’re back to your old self,’ the honey badger remarked. ‘Your face is—’

Lorna snarled. ‘Don’t remind me of all that!’ She remembered the pain. She stood up. ‘The humans have made a mistake if they think they can restrict me,’ she declared. ‘There will be other prey not so well guarded, I think.’

‘You mean . . .
outside
the forest?’ the badger asked.

‘What do you think I mean? There’s nothing to challenge me in here, is there?’

Ratel gasped. ‘You’d actually go searching for this prey under the noses of the humans?’

Lorna purred, pleased with the badger’s reaction. ‘It won’t be under their noses,’ she replied, ‘if they don’t know I’m coming.’ She turned and padded away unhurriedly towards a different section of the forest. The badger watched her for a while, then trotted after her.

The lioness made a wide detour around the sheep pasture and emerged from the woodland at a point where there was more open country. Here was hilly terrain interspersed with some pockets of farmland. Lorna had travelled purposefully, never looking back, but she suspected her badger friend was too inquisitive to let her go alone. A strong wind was blowing from the west. It was a warm wind and it carried with it a strong mix of scents, amongst which Lorna detected the rich odour of comfortable, well-fed beasts. She paused to listen for their voices, needing some guidance before she went further. The wind drowned most sounds. There was, however, one faint but insistent animal cry. Lorna didn’t recognise it except in so far
as it sounded like a beast in pain. It was the clue she wanted. Without turning her head she said, ‘If you’re there, Ratel, this is the way to go,’ and set off down a slope towards the source of the cry.