Leopard Adventure

by Anthony McGowan

  He peeled another piece of bark off the rotten log, and used the small blade on his multi-tool to shave and scrape and score at the pale inner surface, giving it a feathery appearance.

  ‘Now for the fun bit,’ he said, digging down into the zippered pocket of his combat trousers.

  Amazon assumed he had some matches in there, and she was going to say that they’d be useless because of the soaking they’d all got. But what Frazer finally pulled out – after a ball of string, some loose change and a clump of sodden tissues – was not a box of matches. It was a piece of metal, about half the size of a pencil.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It’s a firesteel.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘It’s a special metal alloy. Just watch.’

  He then lined up the piece of metal with the feathered bark and scraped the multi-tool blade along its length. It produced a gratifying shower of sparks, which fizzed on to the bark. It was like a miniature firework display. Amazon let out an involuntary little gasp.

  Unfortunately, despite Frazer’s gentle blowing, the first set of sparks didn’t quite take hold. Frazer got ready to try again. Amazon was sure it would work this time.

  However Frazer didn’t get a second chance. The two children were so engrossed in what they were doing they didn’t notice that others had gathered round to watch. Now Boris barged forward and roughly shoved Frazer aside.

  ‘Hey!’ yelped Frazer.

  ‘This take too long. If we wait for you, winter will be here and all will freeze, eh? Boris show you how Russian man make a fire – not like stupid Yankee.’

  And then Boris pulled the clip from his hunting rifle – actually a World War Two, Mosin-Nagant sniper rifle – and snapped out a bullet. He twisted the cartridge open, and emptied out the black powder at the base of the neat woodpile Amazon and Frazer had built. Then he shoved the clip back in the rifle.

  ‘Back!’ he said, and fired a bullet into the little pyramid of black powder.

  This all happened so quickly that no one had time to react. But now pandemonium broke out. Simultaneously the powder burst into flame, wood scattered and splintered, Frazer and Amazon dived for cover, and Kirov charged into Boris, cursing him so violently in Russian that the words seemed like axe blows.

  It looked as if the two men were going to fight it out to the death, and Frazer’s money would be on the smaller man. His eyes burned like sapphire lasers.

  But the fight never happened. Boris looked down and then away, and then muttered to himself.

  ‘Fire is lit,’ he said sulkily, and so it was.

  Soon they were all warm and dry. Makha and Dersu had found the body of the deer that had caused the accident floating in the water. It was of the species known in Russia as the izyubr – a close relative of the European red deer and North American elk.

  This was a magnificent specimen, with antlers as wide as Boris’s outspread arms. The two Udege quickly skinned and butchered the carcass, and soon skewers of venison were cooking on the fire.

  However it was not a happy group.

  Doolins was agitated about the time they’d lost, and there was bad blood among the rest of the group, most of it centred on Boris, who’d managed to fall out with pretty well everyone there.

  ‘How far is it to the area of the forest fire?’ Miranda asked Doolins.

  ‘Another hour and we should be at the site,’ he said. ‘Let’s just hope we make it before the fire is totally out of control.’ He turned to Frazer, who was trying to keep a low profile. ‘I hope you’ve learned your lesson here, boy. Someone could have been killed. And we’ve lost some of the fire-fighting equipment the troops needed.’

  Surprisingly it was Kirov who spoke up for him.

  ‘The boy was not really to blame. That deer came out of the forest very fast. And when he swam in the water, only his head was showing. Not easy for the boy to see.’

  Dersu suddenly was paying very close attention. He spoke to his grandfather, who replied in a tone of great agitation.

  ‘This is bad sign,’ Dersu said. ‘Izyubr is only afraid of one thing: Amba!’

  At the word ‘Amba’ Boris the Dog whined and snuggled close to Amazon. She stroked his ears. She was growing fond of the stupid, cowardly creature. ‘It must be the same tiger that was at the cabin last night,’ Dersu continued. ‘My grandfather is unhappy. We must go.’

  In half an hour they were back on the water.

  Frazer had asked Dersu if he could ride in their boat. ‘Bit awkward over in the inflatable,’ he’d said.

  ‘Of course,’ said Dersu. ‘But my grandfather thinks it best if I am at the helm. We have killed enough deer for one day.’

  It wasn’t much later that Amazon caught the first whiff of smoke, and soon Frazer was pointing out the angry grey plume lying over the land ahead on the right shore of the river.

  In a few more minutes they came upon a ragged collection of tents by the river. Beyond them the forest was engulfed in thick smoke, pierced here and there by flashes of intense red flame. The boats pulled in, and a group of Russian soldiers appeared. Most of them had cigarettes in their mouths, which struck Amazon as pretty stupid given the situation.

  ‘Looks like Mr Doolins has his work cut out with that lot,’ said Frazer.

  ‘Not good men,’ added Dersu. ‘Not good men at all.’

  After he had left the clearing, driven away by that strange smell and the feeling of ‘badness’ that emanated from the cabin, Amba had followed the track down to the river. From there he had moved quickly, following the river’s course.

  He was still determined to destroy his spotted rival. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t peckish.

  And so when he saw the izyubr he decided that vengeance could wait a little while.

  He stalked the big deer, creeping forward to within pouncing distance. With smaller prey – a wild pig or the graceful roe deer – Amba would leap on the animal’s back, and bite through the vertebrae of the neck, bringing a swift death.

  However, with prey as large as a full-grown izyubr, Amba’s technique was to attack from behind, and then to come up almost beneath the victim so as to get a grip on the throat. Death was just as sure, but much slower as the animal suffocated.

  Now, just as Amba was ready to take the three bounding strides towards the izyubr, the wind changed direction, and his strong feline stink reached the deer. Instantly the stag’s head was up, and his senses – hearing and sight as well as smell – fired into life. Amba charged, but the izyubr was already bounding away. The tiger followed. All was not lost. The deer was heading towards the river and Amba could outswim any deer.

  The terrified izyubr burst from the trees and splashed out into the water. Amba was about to close on his victim, and then he saw the boats, and recognized his enemy of the previous night – the small ancient human who should have feared him and yet did not.

  Amba stopped, growled and retreated. The deer, still convinced that the predator was about to sink its teeth and claws into his flanks, carried on.

  Right into the path of the onrushing inflatable.

  Thwarted again, Amba continued on his way, more determined than ever now to find and kill the leopard and her cubs.

  The smoke made the air acrid and bitter, and stung Amazon’s eyes, as Doolins, his head bandaged and his arm in a sling, gave them their final instructions.

  ‘So, as agreed with Ms Coverdale, the three teams are: one, Amazon and Frazer with Dersu and Makha; two, Miranda with Boris; and, three, Bluey and Kirov. Team one, you’ll take the side nearest the Khor River. Team two, you’ll trek across to the Ussuri River, and work your way down from there. Team three, you go down the middle. Each team will have a tranq rifle. And you’ve each got a receiver to pick up the signal from the radio collar. As you know, we lost the sat phones in the, er, accident …’ Doolins paused, but didn’t look at Frazer, for which the boy was very grateful. ‘And there’s no chance of a normal mobile signal in these mountains. What this m
eans is that we must have a fixed rendezvous at the point where the two rivers meet. That’s about sixteen miles from the drop-off.

  ‘It’s fifteen hundred hours now. Twenty-four hours should be enough for you to work your way from here to there. So I’ll be waiting with the inflatable at this time tomorrow. I suggest you set the timers on those fancy watches of yours.’

  Amazon clicked through to the stopwatch function on her GPS watch, and set it to twenty-four hours.

  ‘I don’t need to tell you to be careful,’ Doolins continued. ‘Leopards are dangerous animals – none more so than a mother defending her cubs. And we don’t know if there’s a tiger in there as well, but there may be. And there are reports of hunters. And topping it all off is the fire – if the wind strengthens, then it could trap you. I’ll do what I can with the soldiers here to construct a firebreak, but realistically it’s down to you to find and rescue the leopards. Remember, if you fail, and the leopards don’t make it, then this whole conservation project will be closed down, and the local government will sell the land off to loggers. Any questions? No? Good. See you in twenty-four hours.’

  A scruffy and sulky Russian soldier ferried the three parties around the burning line of fire in the inflatable. They unloaded their gear and the boat zoomed away.

  ‘This is where we part, then,’ said Miranda. ‘Frazer, I’m counting on you to take good care of Amazon. Trust your guides and do what they say. Take no risks. The leopard is important, but people are more important still. Got that?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Frazer, although he wasn’t really listening. He felt that at last the adventure was really beginning.

  ‘Take it easy, kid,’ said Bluey, ruffling Amazon’s hair. ‘Don’t let the boy genius here get into any trouble.’

  Boris the Dog came to say goodbye. He snuffled at Amazon’s feet and whined and slobbered. Amazon reached into her pack and found a small piece of chocolate.

  ‘Take this you silly thing,’ she said, and he snaffled it up.

  Then Boris the man came and dragged him away, saying, ‘Give candy to dog is bad. Make dog lazy. Lazy dog is as much use as gun without bullet.’

  ‘Small treats are OK, sometimes, for dogs and for people,’ said Amazon.

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Boris, shrugging. ‘But let me give advice to English girl. Is old Russian saying, Ot dobra dobra ne ishchut.’

  ‘And that means?’

  ‘It means, English girl, be careful.’

  And then Boris spat on the forest floor, and walked away, Boris the Dog slinking at his heels.

  Bluey and Miranda gave a final wave, and Kirov saluted before following after the big Russian and his dog, leaving Amazon and Frazer with Dersu and Makha.

  But the parting wasn’t yet quite over. After about a hundred metres, Boris the Dog paused and looked back over his shoulder at Amazon. His master stopped also, and spoke roughly to him. The dog looked from Boris to Amazon and back again. Boris shouted and then he aimed a kick at his dog. It wasn’t an especially vicious kick, but it was the final straw. Boris the Dog lifted a back leg and let out a disdainful stream of water in the general direction of his master, and then ran back to the other group. He jumped up and put his heavy paws on Amazon’s shoulders and licked her face.

  ‘Keep stupid lazy coward dog!’ yelled Boris with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘Good only as food for tiger.’

  And then he turned and went on his way, muttering in Russian.

  She had found what seemed like a safe new den for her cubs: a burrow dug out by a fox or jackal under the spreading roots of a big larch tree. And the hunting was suddenly spectacular: she had never seen so many of the beautiful spotted sika deer, or big izyubr, or the goat-like antelope called the goral. She wasn’t to know that they were all bottled up by the fire.

  It was a sika deer she was eating now, beginning, as leopards always do, with the hindquarters. And as she ate, her cubs suckled, batting at each other with paws that were not yet the lethal killing machines they would one day become.

  One of her cubs – the youngest and cheekiest – crawled on to her back, digging his sharp little claws through her fur and into her skin. He reached the plastic collar round her neck – it was so light that the leopardess had forgotten it was there. But the cub took exception to this thing that was so obviously not supposed to be part of his mother. He chewed and worried at it. But the radio transmitter was designed to take that sort of punishment, and soon the cub got bored, and rolled off her back. Time to tease his sister.

  Despite the safe den and fine hunting, which meant that her cubs were growing fat on her rich milk, the leopardess was still uneasy. It wasn’t just the smell of distant smoke. It was the knowledge that her only natural enemies, the tiger and man, were here. She pulled the complaining cubs close to her and wrapped herself protectively around them.

  ‘OK,’ said Frazer, unpacking the radio receiver. ‘Let’s track this baby down!’

  The receiver part of the tracking equipment consisted of a small hand-held device, a little bigger than a mobile phone, with a large fold-out antenna like a portable TV aerial. The handset had an on/off switch, and a line of LED lights to indicate the signal strength. Frazer flicked the ‘on’ button, and held the device up.

  ‘It should beep if the leopard is anywhere within a couple of miles,’ he said.

  Dersu and Makha exchanged looks, their faces interested, but ever so slightly amused. This was definitely not the Udege way of tracking.

  Frazer waited for the beep that would tell him that their quarry was near.

  Silence. And not a flicker from the LEDs.

  ‘Nothing. It must be out of range. Guess it’s down to you guys for a while,’ he said to Dersu.

  Makha was already walking, the long forked stick in his gnarled hand, picking his way carefully into the forest. Frazer, still clutching the (so far) useless tracking device, looked at Amazon, and gave her an encouraging nod. Then they followed the leader, Amazon struggling under her heavy pack, but still amazed and delighted to be in such an unexpected place. She felt oddly comforted by the presence of Boris the Dog at her heels – proven coward though he be. Dersu, as watchful as ever, brought up the rear.

  Soon they were deep in the heart of the forest. The only sounds were the soft clump of their feet in the leaf litter and Boris the Dog’s heavy panting.

  Makha was still in the lead. His head was bowed as he studied the ground intently. Then he stopped dead, and crouched a little stiffly. The others bunched up behind him.

  ‘Has your grandfather found the tracks of the leopard?’ asked Frazer, his voice bubbling with suppressed excitement.

  ‘Possibly.’

  Frazer looked disappointed. ‘Only possibly? I thought you guys could track anything.’

  ‘I will explain,’ Dersu replied patiently. ‘This path is made by the wild pigs. And where pigs go the leopard will go too. In winter, to follow an animal is easy, because of the snow. Even a spirit as wise as the leopard or the tiger does not think about the footprints it leaves. My grandfather does not understand this blindness to such a thing, but it is so. It means that in the snow you can tell everything. You can see where the leopard has walked, where it has rested, where it has rolled to one side to give milk to its babies, where it has waited in hiding for its dinner to walk by. How many steps it took before the leap that killed the izyubr. All these things my grandfather can read in the snow. But this is no great skill. Even a stupid Russian from the city like that idiot Boris can follow a leopard or a tiger in the snow, and shoot it with a machine gun.’

  ‘But now there is no snow …’

  ‘Of course, and now, at the end of the summer, is the most difficult time to track. Not only is there no snow, but the ground is hard and dry. The trail is like the trail of a ghost. Boris could not follow. Even I could not follow, and I have learnt much from my grandfather. But yes, my grandfather will find the trail. He is the greatest tracker living among our people, and our people are the greate
st trackers in the world.’

  Dersu’s words were so unlike the boasting of Boris. They were spoken in a matter-of-fact way, as if he was telling you the time or pointing out the name of a tree.

  ‘I hate to tell you, Dersu,’ said Frazer, ‘but –’ he was about to say that almost every group of indigenous people he’d met, from Australia to South America, reckoned they were the best trackers in the world, but at that moment Makha grunted and climbed back to his feet. He said a few words to Dersu.

  ‘He has found the signs. We chase the leopard, and the leopard chases the sika,’ said Dersu, translating. ‘And when she catches her prey, we will catch ours.’

  The excitement that Amazon and Frazer felt on finally being on the trail of the leopard lasted for as long as it took them to make the first long, hard climb up the side of one of the many hills that rose and rippled in the land between the two rivers.

  So far all the trekking they had done had been fairly easy, on level ground along established tracks. But this was very different. Once they were away from the riverbank there was no level ground at all. They were either heaving themselves up hills or carefully picking their way down. And in between each of the hills the land was damp and boggy, with usually a stream to negotiate – which often meant wet boots to add to the lack of comfort.

  Amazon had never walked with such a heavy pack before, and her legs ached as she pushed herself up the slopes. However, she almost preferred the going up to the going down. The problem was that she was worried the pack would make her fall forward flat on her face – which was something she particularly wanted to avoid. Therefore she overcompensated, leant back and twice overbalanced backwards.

  The first time was embarrassing and undignified. She let out a squeal and slithered a metre or so over the loose leaf litter and then rolled to a halt. Frazer gave her a hand up, and was about to make one of his jokes, but then saw her face and wisely decided against it.