The Gap Between the Breaths

by Jan Twomey

In the leaden heat of the late African afternoon, a solitary leopard stared unblinking across the clearing, her sand-scratched bloodshot eyes burning with fatigue. The spring rains had come and gone, but her grief over the taking of her cub remained undiminished by the passing of the season. As the other animals rested and slept in shade, readying to hunt again when darkness came, the leopard eventually closed her eyes and watched the shapes created by the light filtering through her lids, willing sleep to come. Once more though it seemed as if it would elude her, as it had every day since that sunrise when she’d brought the fresh kill back to the den for her own nourishment, her milk heavy and ready in her teats for her cub. But, nearing the den she’d thought so well hidden, she’d smelt lion. She’d dropped the dangling buck and froze, sniffing the air for the scent of her cub. She’d smelt her cub alright, but it was the scent of his raw bloodied flesh that mixed with lion. Flattening into the grasses, she inched forward, seeing at last the blood of her offspring around the lion’s mouth, her son’s blue eyes, once bright, dulled and lifeless in his head.

All that long day she’d lain there, still as any predator, but no match for the lion, which ate and dozed and licked the taste of her cub from its mouth. She’d watched as the lion, standing up to leave her table, found the discarded buck, and nibbled a little of it to wash down her cub. She’d watched as night fell, and she’d heard the grasses rustle and the night birds calling. She’d watched all through the darkest hours, her round dilated pupils observing dispassionately the small and large battles of the predator and the prey as they played out nearby. That was her fate forever more, it seemed, to nap only when exhaustion overwhelmed her, waking always after just a few minutes, with her nostrils filled with her son’s milky bloody blend.

In the leaden heat of the late African afternoon, she started from her doze as the strange animal that rumbled and sputtered approached the clearing. She’d seen this animal now quite often. Her imprinted knowledge could not identify it. It emitted a low growl not unlike hers, except that the growl never ended until the moment before the hind-leggers jumped from its back; it rolled across the grass and through the trees as if it were a snake; it was faster than almost any animal she knew, its coat usually pale brown, but sometimes dark green. The hind-leggers were not afraid of the rumbling snake animal. Once its growling stopped, it seemed that it stayed completely still as the night passed, until the hind-leggers wanted to ride on its back again. She thought that it must be a plant-eater, because it had no carnivore scent that she could recognise, and she’d learnt to walk around it in the night without fear.

She examined the new leap of hind-leggers from her nest in the flattened grass, the dappled shade and her dappled coat seamlessly joined. The first time the hind-leggers had come, the leopard had inched away until she was sure they would not be able to find her scent. With each new time they came, she’d learnt that she could stay closer and closer. They were very undeveloped animals, she’d concluded. Not one had ever even looked in her direction, and they seemed to have no idea that she was there. If not for their strange noises, like baboons, the fact that they stayed in leaps, could always rest next to fire without fear and, most of all, their magical ability to build green or brown caves that closed, the lions would find them laughably easy prey. Before the lion had taken her cub, the leopard had once thought of hunting one of these hind-leggers, but the risk was too great and their reek made her slightly nauseous. Now she rarely ate, and had little energy for any prey except the simplest catch.

As she watched, the hind-leggers once more began to build their magic caves, creating them from unknown skins that they laid upon the ground, before lifting them with trees, walking in and closing the entrances. How marvellous it must be, thought the leopard, to be able to construct such a shelter. Her cub would surely have been safe in one of those caves, instead of so vulnerable in the simple nest of dried grass she had made for him, hidden under an overhanging rock. She watched closely as the caves were created, wanting to learn their secret. She watched so closely that she was startled to see one of the hind-legger cubs had strayed quite near to her without noticing her in her camouflage. The cub smelt young, though no longer milky as her cub had been. This cub ate meat, and she wondered what his favourite kill was. The cub turned to look at some berries, and she saw his bright blue eyes flick past her, unseeing. A careless cub, she thought, and her heart swelled with maternal connection.

The hind-leggers screeched like baboons, and the cub ran back to his leap, but for the first time since her own cub had died, the leopard felt alive.

When night fell, the hind-leggers produced their hidden kill, and ate. They clustered around fire as the leopard watched, wary of the flames and their revealing light. She knew the hind-leggers hunted in the day, riding on the back of the rumbling snake animal in search of their prey. It was so much easier to hunt in the darkness of concealing night, and she thought again how undeveloped these animals were, not to have learnt that. Their baboon chatter was wearying, and the leopard thought to set out in search of her own prey. She stretched her stiff limbs, and saw as she did that the hind-leggers were also stretching and moving as they chattered. As she watched, the blue-eyed hind-legger cub was taken into one of the caves, and soon all the caves were closed and quiet settled on the clearing.

Despite her hunger, the leopard found herself drawn to stay with this strange blue-eyed cub, to inhale his warm young scent, to listen as he slept. Cautiously, she moved out of the protective shadows where she had lain all day, her once lithe frame stiff and ungainly in her malnourishment. The bush was loud with grunts and squeaks and the crack of dead wood underfoot, but her pads moved soundlessly across the beaten earth to the cave she sought. A bird called an alarm; she froze, ready to bolt, but the only response was a sleeping snort from one of the hind-leggers. The moon tracked her across the sky as she slipped towards the cave until she could smell that cub. The leopard lifted her nose towards where she knew the cub lay, and she smelt pure cub, no blood, no killing lion. Now, suddenly, she hungered for rest, and carefully lay down outside the cave where the scent was strongest. As she slipped into sleep, she breathed in time with the cub, the gaps between his breaths so parallel to the breathing of her lost cub that she could breathe as one with him as they slept.

In the morning, the tourists awoke to the gift of a freshly killed buck, laid carefully next to one of their tents. In the pre-dawn, the guide had thought it a pair of hiking boots, and so it was the child who found it first. His mother stepped outside, still bleary from sleep, to find the child bent over the carcase, stroking its still warmth. She shrieked, bringing the guide running. He was fascinated. What animal would leave its kill unattended, so close to humans? Gazing at the dust, he saw leopard prints, and followed them into the surrounding bush until the grasses became too high for safety. There was no sign of the leopard, and the reason why it had left its prey so suddenly must remain unknown. He did observe, though, that the leopard had not been running as it left, so nothing had menaced it into dropping its prey. The guide wrote the event down in his journal, for the safari operator to add to the blog they published. Later, with the child watching on, he took a spade and dug a hole and buried the kill.

The leopard was sound asleep under her overhanging rock by the time the ungrateful hind-legger buried her gift to the cub, but she had seen the wonder in the cub’s bright blue eyes before she left.

That night, as the leopard lay again outside the cave, next to her cub, she listened to the cycle of his quiet indrawing of breath, then a last sip of air, then a pause, then a slight huff as he breathed out through slack lips, and she filled her heart with that beautiful hanging pause before each new breath. She lay so close to the wall of the cave that, when the cub rolled over in his sleep, his warm body pressed against her, and she curved herself closer to nestle his body into hers the more.

It was so that she lay, one ear resting on the ground, when she heard the groan from deep deep below her, and felt the slightest of shivers as, far away, tectonic plates ground and nudged, then sharply released, in country far from where she had ever been. Alarmed, she fled to the safety of the long grass, waiting for the hind-leggers to rouse to the threat, but they slept on. She knew then that they were no more able now to protect their blue-eyed cub than she had been able to protect hers in the past, and understood that the responsibility for his care must now pass to her.

As the sun rose, the tourists spilled from their tents, waving their phones. They talked over one another.

“Did you see the news about the Morocco earthquake?”

“It’s awful, half the buildings in Marrakesh have collapsed. Apparently lots of people died.”

“We’re supposed to be staying there next week. Who knows if our riad we booked is even standing.”

“Us too, we’re supposed to be flying out of there, but the flights have all been redirected.”

Amidst the chaotic self-absorbed chatter, the blue-eyed boy wandered unnoticed at the edge of the clearing, until his unfocussed gaze fixed suddenly on two green eyes in a face of spotted fur. The fur looked very soft, and he reached out his hand to stroke it. The big cat nuzzled into his hand, then turned, looking back at him to be sure he followed. He did.

By the time anyone realised the child wasn’t still in bed, the leopard and her cub were far enough away that he didn’t hear the calling and the screaming and the beating of the drum. The leopard did, but she led him on regardless to a waterhole, where he could soak his dry lips and drink while she stood watch. The cub turned from the muddy water though, and refused to drink, and began to cry. She pressed against him to quiet him, jumped high in the air to amuse him, and quickly his crying changed to a new high-pitched cackle, reminiscent of a hyena. What strange animals these hind-leggers are, she mused, joy welling as he jumped in time with her and cackled on and on.

But even the most entertaining time of play must end, and the leopard worried about the exposure at the unsheltered water’s edge. Before leaving, she drank deeply herself, but the cub would not copy her. She would try again later in the day, she decided, when the sun was at its peak and thirst would drive his fussy drinking. They walked on.

As the sun rose and the thorn bushes ripped at the cub and his skin turned red and his cheeks redder, the cub began to cry in earnest. The leopard jumped and tumbled for him, and licked his scratches, but he would not be soothed. She thought he must be hungry, but she could not risk trying to hide him from lions while she hunted. The memory of the gift of the kill she had made prodded at her, and she thought perhaps, if the hind-leggers hadn’t already eaten it all, she may be able to retrieve some remains, feed the cub, and settle him down for an afternoon nap. She remembered how her first cub had been difficult when he was tired and hungry. Against her better judgement, she turned and began walking back towards the hind-leggers’ caves. The cub dragged behind and sniffled, but his crying was spent. Eventually, he placed his chubby paw on her back and let her lead him on.

On nearing the place of the caves, the leopard was surprised to find that there were many more hind-leggers, and more of those rumbling snake animals, and the baboon-chattering was deafening. She slowed, uncertain, but the cub started to run ahead. The leopard hissed sharply at him to stop and take cover. The cub kept running though, and a lion, who a moment before had been idly dreaming of meat, with no specific plans, raised its head as the cub ran. The leopard smelt the lion, and saw its movement. In that moment, she knew that she would not lose another cub to a lion. Her mother’s heart pounded in her chest, and her mother’s rage filled her, and her mother’s voice sawed, and her mother’s courage fuelled her as she sprang at the advancing lion. The cub screamed and hid beneath a bush; the hind-leggers heard his scream and ran towards him, banging pots and lids and drums, and screaming too. Baboons barked and guinea fowl honked and the lion and the leopard roared and swung and slashed and bit, until the lion, who had after all not been planning anything only a moment before, decided it was all too much trouble on a warm afternoon, and left.

In the leaden heat of the late African afternoon, the leopard felt the cub’s warm paw stroking her, and his tears bathing her dry lips as he pressed his face into hers, while the gaps between her breaths lengthened, and it was only the smell of her own blood that filled her nostrils. Her cub was safe, and her mother’s heart was full as it pulsed its last beat.