The hunters

One man was walking quietly through the tall grass, tracking a group of lions. He knew that what he was doing was poaching, but the furs from those beasts would command a hefty price on the black market. It was mid-morning and the sunlight shone on his back with the oppressive heat characteristic of the African Savannah. He could tell from the size and shape of the paw prints that these were lionesses, and they were stalking wilderbeasts unaware that they, themselves were about to become prey to a poacher. As he followed the trail, he noticed that the tracks were quickly getting fresher. This was a sure sign that he was gaining on the animals, so he raised his head to check and see if he could see the lions from where he was. The man was in luck. The two lionesses were closing in on a herd of unsuspecting wilderbeasts. The poacher raised his hunting rifle, aimed it at the nearest of his prey, and fired. In one shot, he brought down the animal, and the herd of wilderbeasts, that had been its quarry, scattered. He quickly fired another shot and brought down another lion, which was standing nearby. The poacher rejoiced at the success of his hunt. He had brought down two lions and would be able to sell two pelts on the black market. After making the kill, the poacher skinned the carcasses and left the dead bodies on the ground. Packing the furs into his pack, he walked off confidently in the direction of his shack, where he could dry the furs in preparation for their sale on the market. He waded back through the sea of tall grasses and found his way back to the trail that he had used to come to that lonely part of Africa. He was whistling to himself as he stepped onto the trail. The poacher walked with a giddy step for the rest of the day, until the sun set, and it became to dark for him to find his way. As the sun’s last rays faded away, he set up a camp to rest for the night and built a fire, to keep predatory animals at bay. Then he went to sleep. The poacher had been asleep for a few hours, and was dreaming peacefully, when he woke up with a start. He could have sworn that he had heard something but couldn’t put his finger on it. After a few seconds of relative silence, he lay back down and tried to get back to sleep, but, just as he was drifting off, he heard it again. It sounded like a low growling noise that you hear from big cats, but he couldn’t see any big cats anywhere. He only saw the pelts of the animals he brought down. That’s when the poacher noticed that the pelts were not laying the way that he had left them. He had left them piled up on top of each other and on the other side of the fire, but, now, they were laying next to each other, directly to the left of where he was sleeping, nestled in his sleeping bag. Unnerved, the poacher got up and put the pelts back in their original positions. Once finished, he got up, wiped his eyes, and turned around to return to sleep. However, he was not going to get any sleep tonight as the lion skins were laying on top of his sleeping bag. Staggering back, the poacher tripped over a root and fell back. He struggled to get back on his feet but stopped when he saw the two pelts do something impossible. Slowly, they rose to their feet and began walking quietly towards him. The poacher screamed. He screamed for his life, and, for a moment, the forest echoed with his screams. Then, everything was silent. The next morning, two travelers were walking along the path, talking about the things that they were going to do in town when they came across a horrifying sight. A dead man was found, covered in blood, under the pelts of two lionesses. The travelers were astonished and confused by the sight. They didn’t know what to make of this horrible scene so they just continued along, as if nothing had happened.