Perhaps it’s because of what I went through with the Lion Man before. Perhaps it’s because there’s a limit as to how frightened one can be, and once you get to that point, nothing else is as much of a bother. Whatever the reason, this time, when the wounded Lion Man pounced and began the process of ripping my throat out of my neck to gain vengeance on the first white person he came across after being so foully ambushed, I neither screamed nor moaned. I accepted the hand I’d been dealt and waited to be dispatched to heaven.

As I felt his icy fingers wrap around my mouth to stifle any of my dying wails, I had second thoughts. If I screamed loudly enough, maybe Benji and the other boys from Buxton would hear me and come to my rescue. Maybe my dying screams could serve as a warning and they could save themselves.

The Lion Man’s hand was over my lips, so I opened my mouth wide, then clamped down.

I was shocked when the Lion Man cried out, “Oww! Red?”

I released his fingers just as he released my face.

The uncontrollable trembling that shook my body showed that my courage had been false.

Benji Alston furiously waved his right hand in the air and hopped from one foot to the other.

“That hurt!”

“I thought you were the Lion Man come to kill me!”

“What are you talking about? You’re making me believe what they say about everyone from Chatham, that you’re all addled in the head.”

“No, Benji, this is kismet! I was looking for you.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s the Lion Man. I’m afraid a drunkard from Chatham has shot him.”

“Shot who?”

“The Lion Man.”

“Wait, what is it this man is lying about?”

“No, not that. Lion, l-i-o-n, the South Woods Lion Man.”

Benji stared at me, and I can find no fault in the exasperated expression that worried his face.

He said, “Addled. Every single one of you.”

“No, Benji, you must know of him, the escaped slave who lives in the woods with the lion’s mane of hair!”

“What!”

“Surely you must have heard of him. We always believed he was from Buxton.”

Benji’s expression changed from bewilderment to horror.

“You mean the Madman of Piney Woods?”

He stopped hopping and shaking his bitten finger.

“It must be he. We call him the Lion Man because of his mane.”

“You said he was shot?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“How badly was he hurt?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know where he is.”

“Did you tell the constable in Chatham?”

“No.”

His tone changed, beginning to edge toward anger. “Who have you told?”

I was embarrassed by my answer. “No one. I discovered it myself less than an hour or so ago. I wanted to find you so we could go together to see if it was true. I figured if he was wounded, you’d be able to track him.”

“Where did it happen?”

“I was told by the big bend in the river.”

“Wait here, I need to get my clothes.”

“Good, we’ll need as much help as we can get. Bring your friends.”

“No. This is something you and I will do alone.”

I can’t understand why he didn’t want help. I hoped he knew what he was doing.

Benji Alston ran back to the other Buxton boys.