Promise the Night by Michaela MacColl Read Free Book Online Page B

goat’s back. Beryl winced at the cracking of the goat’s backbone. The leopard rolled off and grabbed the goat’s throat between its jaws and ripped. Beryl shuddered, thinking of Buller’s barely healed wounds. Backing away from the tank’s edge, she was suddenly content to be safely out of the way.

    Arap Maina appeared. With one thrust, he put his spear through the leopard’s neck. A high-pitched whine and the leopard was dead.
     
    Kibii scrambled down from the top of the water tank. Beryl slowly followed. She stared down at the goat’s carcass. Vomit rose into her throat at the metallic smell of fresh blood. She had seen animals slaughtered before for meat and skin, but she had never seen one ripped apart by sharp teeth.

    Now the leopard seemed small and not fierce at all. Its coat was covered with barely healed scars.
     
    Arap Maina’s eyes were luminous in the night, and he shivered as though he were cold.

    “Father,” Kibii said. “I saw how you waited until he was distracted by his dinner. The fresh blood of the goat filled his nose, so he could not scent you.”

    Beryl interrupted, eager to show how much she, too, had observed. “He didn’t hear you coming because he was making so much noise with his eating.”

    Arap Maina nodded his approval, still breathing hard through his nose. He pulled his spear from the leopard’s body and wiped it clean on the grass.
     
    “You speared the heart,” Beryl said.

    “This leopard is not afraid of men. The heart was the safest way to kill it with one blow.”

    Kibii’s eyes were wide, memorizing everything.

    “But you were too late to save the goat,” Beryl said. She averted her eyes from the bloody mess of the goat’s entrails.

    Kibii snorted, but Arap Maina simply shook his head. “The goat was dead as soon as we used him for bait.”

    Beryl’s father always said it didn’t do to get sentimental about animals. Except Buller, of course.

    As though he could read her thoughts, Arap Maina pointed to the teeth marks on the leopard’s skull. “This is certainly the same leopard who attacked the dog.”

    “Buller did that?” Beryl asked. Her heart swelled with pride; Buller might have lost the fight, but he had done a lot of damage.

    Arap Maina nodded. “He is a warrior, your dog.”

    “I saved Buller,” said Kibii, thumping his chest.

    Beryl insisted, “You would never have looked for him if I hadn’t gone out into the forest.”

    “You would never have found him without me,” Kibii answered. “And it is my medicine that heals him.”

    “He’s a British dog,” Beryl said in a voice to end the argument.

    “None of our dogs would fight a leopard,” Kibii admitted.
     
    “Hush, totos,” Arap Maina said, but he was smiling.

    “Next time, I will fight with you,” Beryl said.

    Kibii hooted, “You are a girl—you won’t ever fight.”

    Beryl shoved him. “I will too. Your father said I can train as a murani.”

    Arap Maina held up a hand, and both children instantly stopped speaking. “I permitted you to watch this night, but only the boys of the tribe hunt. Never the girls.”

    Beryl nudged the dead leopard with her foot. Its sightless eyes stared up at her.

    “Arap Maina, I can be as brave as any boy.” Deliberately, she untied her new bracelet and handed it back to him. “I’ll only be one of the tribe if I can be a murani.”

    Kibii laughed so hard, he had to sit down. But Arap Maina was thoughtful. He glanced toward her father’s house, then at the bracelet in his hand.

    “We shall see,” he said. “But first you must learn discipline. And obedience.”

    Beryl grimaced. She was going to have to wait a long time.

Exclusive Interview with Beryl Markham

    The Daily Express

    London, England

    3 September, 1936

    The Daily Express Correspondent: Mrs. Markham, we have some more questions for you.

    Markham: Haven’t you already had your pound of flesh? Why do you keep following me around?

    Correspondent: