Total pages in book: 172
Estimated words: 155984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Shturm targeted Conrad’s leopard. To him, the animal was the biggest threat. Rolan was past his prime and appeared ill. If Istrebitel didn’t get him, then he would follow up. Both leopards knew the others would be coming to help kill the drivers of the transports. If nothing else, they could cut Rolan off from the others and take him down at their leisure. Conrad was the most important.
Shturm watched Rolan go past, the leopard sprinting for the trucks, wasting energy, not even considering that he might be stalked. Conrad’s leopard wasn’t that far behind. Shturm charged him straight on, full speed, hatred driving him every step of the way. Smerch, Conrad’s leopard, had no choice but to meet the charge head-on. He reared up at the last minute in a kind of desperation. The leopards came together, slashing with claws and teeth at faces, bellies and genitals.
Shturm’s claw ripped a chunk of fur and flesh from Smerch’s face, nearly taking his right eye. The other leopard just managed to turn his head in time. They crashed to the ground together in a tangle of claws and teeth, Shturm, taking full advantage of his powerful jaws, clamping on the other cat’s precious jewels and ripping while digging at his belly with claws as they rolled over and over in the grass.
Desperate, Smerch tried to break away, to get any advantage at all, clawing for purchase on the ground so he could get to his feet, but Shturm kept tearing at him, slicing at him relentlessly, mercilessly, clamping down on his back paw and crunching, dragging the leopard back to him when Smerch would have crawled a distance away.
Conrad looked up through Smerch’s eyes to see Sevastyan looking down at him through Shturm’s eyes. He made one last effort to save his leopard, a sneak attack, coming at the big brute from under his belly to the throat, but Shturm countered the move easily and bit down hard on his throat, holding, suffocating him, waiting until the life was gone out of his rival.
It was much more difficult to get Shturm to back off. He kept leaving the carcass but then returning, slapping leaves and debris at it and roaring a challenge to any other male who dared stay in the territory near his female. Finally Sevastyan was able to get him to run in the direction he needed him to go.
The still night air carried the sound of their growls a great distance, just as the sound of the battle around Mitya’s house could be heard. If those men driving the transport trucks heard, they must not have thought much about it because no one came to Conrad’s aid, not even Rolan.
Diktator, Rolan’s leopard, skidded to a halt and swung around at the sound of the terrible sawing growls and challenging roars, so distinctive of leopards fighting. He paused for a moment and then turned and raced toward the safety of the trucks. He was sprinting hard, his legs shaky, not used to running anymore, when something hit him from the side. A bright hot pain spread through his body and he knew his lung burst.
His legs went out from under him and he tumbled, rolling over and over, coughing as blood filled his throat and nostrils. He tried to stand, but then went down, his sides heaving. He watched as the leopard approached, not even coming at him fast, as if he didn’t even count. As if he wasn’t a vor, a leader of the bratya, his lair one of the most feared.
Diktator snarled at him, showed his yellow, stained teeth, but didn’t move, sides heaving as he tried to gather his strength. The leopard just watched him with malevolent eyes. The leopard had a strange, distinctive coat. Pure white underneath with a scarred, dark coat on top. Where had he seen him before? He should know him. He had seen him, a long time ago in Russia, but Rolan’s memory was going.
Without warning the leopard attacked, moved so fast he was a blur, just a streak of spots, and there was a terrible crunch and more flashing pain as the leopard bit through the bone of his right back leg. Diktator howled. The leopard retreated, once more circling, staying just out of reach, looking as if Rolan’s leopard was nothing at all and Rolan no more than the lowest creature inhabiting the earth. Rolan wanted to scream at him, to tell him differently, but he didn’t dare.
Minutes later, three more leopards joined Diktator. One was a powerful Persian leopard, the other two were Amur leopards. They paced back and forth, circling Diktator. Another two minutes, and there was no mistaking Shturm, Sevastyan’s leopard. Rolan’s heart sank. He should have known the reason the leopard hadn’t come in for the kill.