Lion Dance

It was well past midday when Elayne stopped to rest beside a clear flowing stream of melted snow, just like she had imagined finding. She’d left the main trail perhaps half an hour ago, and even though she was walking slowly, she was more than a little puffed. The water was icy and pure on her tongue, and she brought her cupped hands to her lips a dozen times before she paused to get her bearings.

The grassy area around her was dotted with trees, some low bushes, and the cragginess of the mountain jutting out in places around her. It was hard to tell specific direction since the sun had gone behind the low gray clouds, but she guessed that she was on a western downslope. The wind was beginning to pick up slightly, and she thought she might have to look for some cover in case it actually decided to rain.

She sighed contentedly and lazily wandered about the area. There were still too many problems on her mind to resolve easily, but at least she was beginning to think about them more clearly. Mountain air, she told herself...perhaps more a panacea than modern psychiatry cared to admit. Just getting away from the pressure zone was enough to bring the size of the problems down from Crisis to Disaster. Unfortunately, the whole problem was still a wheel, a circle that fed upon itself and offered no real answers. Unlike the great theory of the cosmos being like a clockwork, Elayne’s problems fell squarely into the general realm of genuine chaos theory.

Maybe Johnnie was right...maybe she should bail out of GCMK while she still had the chance. It always looks better to leave of one’s own will rather than to be forcibly ejected. Maybe she could relocate up here. Estes Park isn’t all that far from Denver, and nothing says that a person in a creative field has to live in the center of the traffic, even if they have to deal with “downtown” businesses on a regular basis. Smaller town, clear air, mountains in the back yard...sounded ideal.

She paused in her musings and took a closer look at the thorny bush she had found. Holly bush, she thought. Strange to find one here...

A sound distracted her. It was low and guttural and sounded so much like a roar that she found it hard to turn around. Slowly, she pivoted in place, and a brief shriek found its way from her throat before she could stop it. After all, she’d never seen a lion quite this close before.

The huge cat grumbled again.

In spite of her fear, something within her was trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. An African lion? In the mountains? What happened, did someone decide that my life story should be written by Rod Serling? She tried to make some sound, but for several seconds her voice box had a large Out To Lunch sign wedged right in the middle of her throat. Marlin Perkins, where are you when I need you?

“Easy, boy,” she said finally. Well, sometimes it worked with Dobermans in the city, she thought. Words may not be as important as the sound of a calm voice. “Nice and easy, right?” She took a cautious step back toward the stream.

The grumble was significantly louder.

Scratch one theory of animal communications.

“Shandaar!”

Elayne turned toward the cry.  A man was running toward them both, carrying some kind of shotgun. It took her a moment to realize that he must have been addressing the lion. He trotted over to the great beast and patted his side firmly. The lion continued staring at Elayne, apparently ready to counter any move she made.

“All right, that’s my good lad.” The man turned to face her. “Who are you?”

“My name is Elayne Hawkins,” she managed with a bit of effort. Next vacation, she thought, I really must go somewhere else.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was -- I was just walking...”

“The Emerald Lake Trail is a good mile away.”

“I know, I -- I was thinking, trying to think, clear my mind, and there were just too many people around. I left the trail and came up here to be by myself. I can leave if...”

“Don’t move.” The man didn’t threaten her or raise the gun, but it was impossible to disobey the powerful command. “Why did you wander so far?”

“I’m -- not sure. Lost in thought. Trying to think.” She cursed herself for her repetitive, clumsy words. So much for Dr. Naagler’s course in Contemporary Speech and Rhetoric.

The man didn’t reply. Like the lion, he seemed to be studying her closely. It was only then that Elayne allowed herself the calmness to see the similarities between the man and his companion. He was about her age by the look of him, maybe a year or so older, and he was a big, well-fashioned man. His hair cascaded about his shoulders in a full auburn mane, untrimmed but still neatly stopping several inches below his neck. His full beard was three shades darker than his hair, no more, and his eyes were a piercing deep gold that stole sunlight and used it for themselves in sharp, cutting glints. His shoulders were broad, his chest and arms muscular, but not grotesquely so. The bulky woolen clothing could not conceal the narrowing at his waist, and he had no overhanging belly, not even the hint of excess pounds. His denims were faded with use and age but were not dirty, and his knee-high leather moccasins showed equally heavy use. It came to her all at once that he must live up here. With a lion.

Not your average guy.