Breathe Again

Chapter 5

Sterling landed with a hard and painful thud, dirt puffing around him in a choking cloud. Rocks gouged into his back and shoulders, tearing through his shirt.

Dirt and small twigs sprayed into his face as the animal's frantic limbs sought for purchase, slashing at anything in its path. Sterling cursed his exhausted state and stupidity at not keeping his gun nearby once again. He struggled to prevent claws and teeth from finding his exposed and vulnerable flesh.

The mountain lion pressed his attack, knocking away Sterling's rifle within his reach only a second ago. Sterling punched and jabbed, then managed to kick the animal off him and hastily crawled toward the gun.

Undaunted, the animal pounced with a terrifying, hair-raising scream. Sterling barely had time to brace himself for the renewed attack, only able to raise his arms in defense.

Knowing he would not be able to reach his rifle, he smacked and kicked the animal, fighting to get his bowie knife free of its sheath tied to his thigh. He had the hilt within his grasp when the animal's claws swiped his hand away, digging painfully into the tender flesh of his arm.

In mounting despair, sure that he would die at any moment, Sterling pulled at the beasts' whiskered jowls and managed to pluck several free, preventing the creature from sinking its fangs into his flesh. He and the animal wrestled, kicking up more loose dirt and twigs, each struggling for victory.

Suddenly, the animal's wicked teeth sank deep into the skin of Sterling's shoulder and neck. He shouted in agony and fought with wild desperation, blindly searching for the hilt of the bowie knife. Razor-sharp claws ripped open the flesh of Sterling's lower left side.

Anger mixed with panic and fear when the blood made it impossible to grasp the hilt. Wrapping his fingers around the animal's throat, he tightened his hold and squeezed, fighting to hold the beast's snapping jaws away from him. Sterling smashed his fist into the side of its head, briefly stunning it. He grunted in satisfaction, but it was short-lived.

In the next instant, the animal's claws tore into Sterling's upper arm, shredding his sleeve and the skin beneath. His scream of pain mingled with the animal's savage growl among the otherwise quiet surroundings.

He was going to die. His fatigued muscles struggled in vain to hold the mountain lion's snarling, bloody snout away.

After all the battles he'd lived through, he couldn't believe this would be how he'd finally meet his end. It didn't seem fair.

With a growl of denial, Sterling pounded the animal's head and throat with his left fist while his right hand fumbled and then finally grasped the hilt of his knife with blood-slickened fingers.

Not wasting a precious second, he plunged the twelve-inch blade up into the mountain lions throat and head, twisting it to ensure a quick, clean kill. The animal's body twitched in his grasp before falling limp against him.

Sterling's ravaged chest heaved with anxious breaths. Shudders rippled throughout his exhausted body. When he withdrew the knife, blood gushed from the beasts wound and drenched the front of Sterling's shirt. Shaking with residual terror and overwhelming relief, he shoved the corpse off him. He'd done it; he'd survived.

Gulping in large breaths of air, he wiped blood and dirt from his face with a trembling hand. To calm his racing heart, he took several deep breaths and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly before staggering to his feet. In a daze, he wiped the bloody blade on the beast's fur, absently noting the carcass's emaciated look.

He sheathed the knife, then surveyed the damage done to his body, hissing in pain when he touched four deep and jagged gashes reaching from his stomach to his left hip — what a mess.

Despite his injuries, he chuckled at the ridiculousness of his situation. It had only been a month since being burned, and now he'd been mangled and nearly killed by a mountain lion. At this point, all he needed was to get struck by lightning.

Perhaps he was being sent a message—the payment required to reconcile the hurt and pain he'd caused six years ago would be exacted from his flesh and possibly demand his life.

He shook his head to rid himself of the sobering thought and dragged the carcass further away from his property, then kicked fresh dirt and bracken over the blood before staggering toward his cabin to tend his wounds.

He paused for a moment, closing his eyes against a wave of lightheadedness. Once it passed, Sterling pressed a hand to the deep wound on his side and picked up his rifle. Somehow along the way, he found enough strength to walk the remaining twenty-five feet to his cabin.

If he were a more emotional man, he might have broken down in tears at his sorry condition. But he'd been on his own long enough to know, wallowing was a waste of time and wouldn't help.

Covered in blood, a good majority of it his, and still weak from the infected burns from the fire, he hoped he'd have the strength to stay awake long enough to stitch the new wounds closed before passing out. He had to because no one would be coming to save him.