The PacificBoard

Rang and one other Commando wait by the trees. After spooking the panther from its hiding lair three nights before, they have been fighting to find a new way to find it. It has killed one more person in that time, a nine-year-old child who was tending to some cows on a farm. The cows stampeded and scared the panther off, leaving the body behind. Rang decided to wait there, to see if it returned to finish its meal. He lies, partially covered in dirt, with a military shotgun, while the Commando lies two feet to his left with a rifle. They wait, hoping that the cat will come back. Neither of them are armored

As it happens , tonight is their lucky night. Three hours before sunset, they see movement at the edge of the trees. It’s the panther. It scans the field, and seeing nothing, slinks low to the ground, towards the body. It makes it to within four yards of Rang when the wind changes. It looks up suddenly, right as both Rang and the Commando jump up. The Commando fires first, hitting the panther. The panther let’s out a scream of pain and sprints back to the trees, covering the distance in a few seconds. Rang and the commando look at the blood on the ground. It’s not good. The blood is the dark and greasy blood of a stomach shot. While painful, a stomach shot does nothing to impair the cat’s ability to kill. It only makes it mad. Rang and the Commando run up to the treeline. The blood trail continues. They might still be able to catch it. Rang turns to the Commando.

Rang: “Sergeant, stay here in case he doubles back for the body. I’ll go in there. The shotgun will be better in the jungle anyways.”
Sergeant: “Sir, that thing is pissed off and only barely injured. That’s suicide, and the Kathol’ar will kill me if you die.”
Rang: “No more civilians are dying on my watch. I’m going after it. Wait here. I’ll signal you with the gun if I need help.”

Rang runs into the trees, leaving the protesting Commando behind. He races along the trail created by the blood, always searching ahead. After ten minutes, the trail starts to slow down. It isn’t moving as fast. Rang’s hopes begin to rise. Maybe it’s more injured than they thought. He slows to a cautious walk. The trail, looking like it was moving much slower at this point, goes into a dense group of bushes. He readies the gun. It must be in there. He sidles up to it. He gets right under a big tree. He hears a small crackling if branches above him, and realizes his mistake.

The panther jumps out of the tree and onto Rang in an instant. Rang can’t believe it. It knew he was following it, and laid a trap with its own blood and gore. The shotgun goes flying out of his hand as the panther knocks him over onto the ground. Rang kicks it off and stands up, pulling his knife. The Panther growls at him before charging again, still bleeding from the hole in its gut. Rang tries to sidestep, but the panther charges direction in a blink of an eye and is on him again. It slashes at him with its claws as it tries to bring his head closer for that fatal bite in the skull. Rang feels four lines of pure pain open up in his chest, and numbly realizes that it must have clawed him across his front. He stabs upwards, hitting the panther in the chest. It yowls and attacks with renewed frequency.

Rang does the only thing he can think of. He shoves his metal hand into the cat’s mouth as it tries to bite his face off. It starts chewing on his arm, not realizing for a moment that the thing in its mouth isn’t flesh. The pain is immediate as the advanced sensors in the arm relay signals back to Rang, but he keep going as it continues to work on it with its teeth. He punches it with his other arm and kicks it off. He sees the shotgun on the ground and dives at it, grabbing it up. He turns to see the panther almost on him again. He fires reflexively and watches, almost in slow motion, as hundreds of pellets smash into the panther’s face and reduce it to a pulp. The force of the blast knocks the cat over backwards where it lands, unmoving. Rang cautiously stands up, ignoring the pain, and places another blast right into the base of the next, almost removing the head. That’s one cat he isn’t letting get up again. Fires three shots in a row up into the air, emptying the magazine soon, he hears the Commando crashing through the bush to reach him. The sergeant arrives, rifle at the ready, and sees the cat in the ground. Then he sees Rang, very cut up and bleeding.

Sergeant: “Come on, we need to get you to the hospital. Those cuts will infect.”
Rang: “Are you sure? I think I’ve had worse.”
Sergeant: “No you haven’t. They have layers of rotten meat in between those claws and teeth. Those cuts will infect. Come on. I’ll mark the position and send the other Commandos to grab the cat. That’s one trophy you’ve earned. And those claw marks on your chest will make one hell of a scar.”
Rang: “I suppose so. Kayla is going to be pissed.”
Sergeant: “I’m just glad you’re alive. That means she’ll be pissed at you, and less pissed at me.”

They walk off, leaving the dead cat behind. Until the Commandos arrive to grab its corpse, the Maneater of Khaltanar spends its last few hours in the silent places of Kathol Rift.