text: “I think there’s lions in these woods,” Ko said. “Lions, Ko?” Robinson nervously scanned the line of trees. He was sitting on the left tire of their overturned vehicle; desolated in a meadow of tall grass. “What do you mean lions ?” The sun was beginning to set, darkening Ko’s face. It was impossible to read his eyes, only Ko’s silhouette stood out against the melting sky. A shotgun was strewn around his shoulders, the barrel pointing towards the horizon. Robinson could barely see the glint of Ko’s blade, he was sharpening a piece of tree branch that had lodged itself into the motor. “Well it is Africa, John.” Ko continued to rigorously cut. Twelve days earlier, Ko had sent a letter to Robinson, inquiring about an expedition to South Africa. The two had become well acquainted during their time in Vietnam. Robinson’s regiment had stumbled upon the aftermath of an ambush, twenty-seven casualties. Ko was the only survivor. While they were nursing Ko back to health, all he would talk about were elephants. No one understood why. Ko mentioned how he’d read in a book once that elephants had the ability to remember faces. And, he spoke of how valuable their tusks were. Robinson shifted anxiously, “You said we’d be safe on the reserve.” “Safe? We’re poachers, John. It’s either the scouts or the wildlife that’ll get us.” Ko finished sharpening the stick. He ripped the branch from the motor, sending splinters of wood flying. “Be a dear and grab the matches, would ya?” They had been following a herd of elephants for twelve hours now. Their car was equipped with snares and poison dipped darts before it was overturned. Now all they had left were the bullets of Ko’s gun. The men weren’t expecting to kill an adult, but they were keen on attacking the younger bulls. “ The Ivory ,” Ko had told him. That’s all they needed. “Now is not the time for a smoke,” Robinson said with a ring of skepticism. “It’s not for cigarettes, it’s for a torch.” “Won’t the torch just alert the scouts?” “It’ll help ward off the hyenas.” “Hyenas!?” Crack. The men fell silent. The grass was still, the sound of crickets reverberating throughout the clearing. Robinson could hear the rattled breaths of Ko beside him. The sun dipped out of sight, leaving lingering hues of indigo. “Get the matches,” Ko said. Robinson fished around for the burlap sack, which he had placed on the hood of the car. Unfortunately, it was getting much harder for Robinson to see his hands. He prodded the empty space beside him. Robinson felt his neck hair rise. The bag was gone. “Ko,” Robinson whispered, “Ko the bag is gone.” “I can see it.” “What?” Robinson felt Ko’s hand on his shoulder, guiding his arm towards a shape, ways away from the car. Robinson strained his eyes to see a lumpy mass planted in the sward. Ko unlatched the shotgun from the strap across his back. He cocked the gun and with an affirming click, he hoisted the weapon to his shoulder. “How’d the bag get over there?” Robinson asked. “I don’t know. You probably knocked it over by accident.” Ko was perched beside Robinson, scanning the shrubbery. Robinson felt the head of a cold cylinder prod his back. He turned, facing Ko, who was pointing his gun at him. He nudged him with the barrel, indicating that Robinson should retrieve the bag. “What about the hyenas?” Robinson argued. Ko gestured to his gun, “I’ll keep an eye out for you.” With a deep sigh, Robinson turned back towards the bag. He realized that if he sprinted he could probably reach it within seconds. He just needed the matches. He climbed down from the overturned belly of the car and a new layer of fear enclosed him. He felt vulnerable on the ground. Ko’s “security” offered no comfort, seeing as there was no light to track hyenas anyway. Without further contemplation, he began to run. He could see the bag clearly now, the moon had traced the outline with a ghoulish glow. He halted right before it, dropping to his knees and furiously digging for the matches. Robinson felt the outline of a box in his grasp. In triumph, he yanked the matches from the compartment. That’s when he heard the rustling. “JOHN! RUN!” Robinson heard Ko shout. Six rounds were fired. Robinson didn’t hesitate. He could hear the rustling of the tall grass following him, licking at his ankles. He didn’t look to check. Reaching the car, Robinson clawed at the metal door beams in desperation. He could not get a proper foot holding. The weeds tangled around his boots as the rustling drew closer. Robinson felt a hand reach down and yank him up. He scrambled up the side door of the jeep and stood tall on the overturned vehicle. He darted his head around. The gun was missing, so were the bullets. All that they had was the stick Ko had sharpened as well as the matches Robinson just retrieved from the bag. That’s when he heard screaming. Robinson unbuttoned his shirt and hastily swaddled the branch. He pulled the matches from their box, striking a light. The flame; a single firefly in the night. Using the match, he ignited the branch which became a makeshift torch. Robinson could see the grass now. In the thicket of reeds, the pale faces of lions stared at him. Something was wrong. The eyes were hollow and vacant in the light. Their mouths hung dry and their skin sagged. It was when they moved that Robinson felt his stomach twist. They slithered through the grass like centipedes, without making a sound. When Robinson raised the torch closer, he gasped. They weren’t lions at all, they were people. Thin, translucent people. Their bodies were masked in the skins of lions. Poised on their toes as dancers would, they hunched over, arms longer than their legs, scraping against the dirt. He saw one of the creatures dragging something through the undergrowth. It was Ko. Robinson went cold. The hand that had helped him up the car was not his partner. He felt it now, sliding across his back prickling his skin. One by one the fingers pierced into his shoulder. “You should’ve been faster.” The flame dissipated and the moor went quiet. There are, in fact , lions in these woods.