Garinor stared into the panther’s eyes and knew the beast was too agile for him to defeat, so he backed away. When he thought he had a chance, he turned and bolted.
His feet pounded into the muddy ground as rain pelted down. He dodged between the trees, hoping to distract the giant cat, working his way around and out of the copse, all the while hearing rhythmic footsteps and low hissing sounds behind him.
At last, Garinor broke out of the trees, running further north with his head down. He pushed as hard as he could, but the panther was right behind him. He couldn’t see where he was headed in the falling rain, but he tried to unleash his sword and have at least a slight chance of defending himself. He fumbled carelessly with the scabbard and in the process he lost his balance and tumbled to the ground.
The panther pulled up short. The vicious eyes scanned him warily, as if looking for an opening or trying to catch him in a deception. Trembling, Garinor grabbed the sword and held it awkwardly before him as he lay sprawled on the ground.
The panther took its time, skulking around its prey. Garinor could almost see the thought patterns of the majestic feline as one paw crossed over another, bringing the cat in a giant circle, its eyes never leaving Garinor’s.
The wait was nerve-wracking, and it increased Garinor’s terror. There wasn’t much he could do, but he had to do something. He grabbed a handful of mud and prepared to lob it at the panther, but the beast seemed to read his intent.
At once, it pounced. Great claws dug into Garinor’s flesh. He pounded against its flank, trying to free himself. The sharp fangs bit and Garinor was in so much pain he couldn’t even think to bring the sword about for any sort of defense.
He realized as the life force drifted out of him that running away from a wild animal was not the best thing to do.