Carpathian 21 - Dark Peril

anger; no, not anger—that wasn’t enough to sustain her when she was alone and exhausted and wounded. She needed a well of rage, a weapon honed by years of fighting evil, fighting for women who couldn’t fight for themselves.

    She found a comfortable crook in a wide limb and settled her aching body, sheltered from the endless rain, and tucked her head on her paws, looking down at the wreckage of her village. The ruins receded and she stared at the destruction of what had once been her home. The overgrown brush disappeared in her mind, and the sacred spot was no longer a blood-soaked graveyard but a place of the living with four small houses and a cornfield and vegetable garden.

    At once she could hear the sound of laughter, of children playing on the cleared ground, kicking a ball around. Her younger brothers, Avery and Adam, both looked so much like her beloved stepfather. He’d been so tall and handsome, his face always smiling, lifting her high in the air and spinning her like a top, making her feel like a princess there in the midst of the rain forest. There was her best friend, Marcy, as well as Marcy’s brother, Phin, a tall, serious boy who loved to read. Marcy could always get him to play their games with her winning smile and big green eyes. Their parents . . .

    The jaguar blinked, trying to remember the names of Marcy and Phin’s parents. How could she forget? She would never forget these people. She was the only person left to mark their existence. Agitated, she rose, her sides heaving, panting, tongue lolling as she struggled with her sluggish brain to recall the two people who had been so good to everyone in the small homestead. Annika and Joseph.

    Breathing heavily, she settled once more on the branch. The third house belonged to Aunt Audrey, her mother’s younger sister, with her daughters Juliette and little Jasmine, her newest cousin. She was very close to Juliette, as they were less than a year apart in age and went between the two houses all the time.
    The fourth structure held the majority of the children—four boys and two girls, all orphans the couple, Benet and Rachel, had taken in and parented.

    They lived and worked and played deep in the forest, far from other civilizations, and they were taught to secrete themselves in nearby caverns and underground tunnels. Unfortunately the caves were often under water, and they had to be careful never to be trapped inside when the tunnels flooded. But still, every few days their parents would conduct drills, running fast, not looking back, going through water to leave no tracks.

    Phin was the oldest of them, and she often followed him, peppering him with questions about the outside world and why, at times, they had to hide so quietly. He looked sad, and he’d drop his hand on the top of her head and tell her how special she was. And that they all had to watch over her.

    The jaguar sighed. The rain fell down and she lifted her face, allowing the drops to wash the tears from her muzzle. It did no good to weep for the past. She couldn’t change what had happened; she could only try to prevent others from feeling her pain and loss.

    As she looked down on the ruins, the laughter of the children turned to screams as men poured from the jungle, and with them, great cats, claws rending and tearing, ripping out the throats of the boys. Adam and Avery were caught in the middle of the cornfield. The three of them were playing hide-and-seek and suddenly the great jaguar-men were surrounding them. They bashed in the heads of her brothers without mercy, spilling brains and blood on the ground and trampling the cornfield. She tried to run, but she was snatched up by one of the great brutes and taken into the clearing where Phin and her father fought, back-to-back, trying to prevent the men from dragging her mother from the house.

    A sob welled up, a strangled wail the throat of the jaguar couldn’t quite handle. She panted, her face to the sky, tears burning, mingling with the drops of the rain. Adam and Avery were gone from her, brutally thrown aside, their bodies tossed like garbage. She remembered the dizzying ride as she was tucked under an arm and rushed through the field, the corn hitting her face, blood spatter everywhere. She saw a man with a machete kill Benet and then the four boys behind his fallen body, even the youngest: little Jake, who was only two. Rachel fought them back using a gun, firing at the men to keep them away from the