PUNTER, FOR once, failed to read these signs for what they actually were. He took a deep breath into his cavernous lungs, braced his hind legs for the lunge and then leaped forward, out of cover, a few metres ahead of the antelope cutting into the escape route of the antelope. Seeing Punter, Pup and all the other members of the pack charged forward too – now diverging on the still calmly bent antelope. They did not miss the fact that this antelope was a magnificent specimen – its horns had innumerable rings and it wore proud marks of several past run-ins – all superficial and none more than skin deep. It was not young but it certainly knew the ways of this world and had won such battles before – otherwise it would not stand before them so big, so tall and so elegant and self-possessed. Curiously or not, this enraged the lions a lot more.

 

The antelope did not need all the elaborate bracing of the hind feet for its spring. It turned and ran in one direction that the pride would have least expected it to go. It streaked directly towards the onrushing Punter with its horns down. This surprised every one in the pride. But they were confident that the antelope was now heading directly into the jaws of death and redoubled their efforts to center in on the quarry. Lions from all directions were now converging towards the antelope and Punter.

 

This now was the moment of its life for the antelope. And though Punter might not know it, this might very well be the pivotal moment in his life too. The big antelope with bounding leaps raced towards the powerful lion with head down and horns lowered. Lions, like other predators of the wild, are very much creatures of habit. And though the worldly wise Punter did not let it be known to the rest of the pride, he was shocked out of his skin to see this lowly antelope charging him. At once, this enraged him and sowed seeds of doubt within his mind. We will never know whether it was the rage or the doubt, which made him reduce some speed when close to grappling with the antelope. The antelope, now that it had set its plan in motion, did not show the slightest hesitation. It only had to get past Punter – the rest of the pride had no chance of getting at it if it successfully evaded the leader. Still with horns lowered, it streaked toward the leader of the pride. Just a few yards in front of the great beast, it feinted right and then left – causing that momentary doubt in the mind of even that seasoned hunter. Then with a maneuver, which would leave the lions, the hyenas and even the vultures shaking their head in disbelief, it lifted off from the ground, smoothly in one motion and cleared Punter – just about escaping the crunch of the closing fangs. But the antelope was not done yet. The oppressed do not get many chances to get back at the oppressors – and this was one chance not to be passed up on. So, while in air, just after the great lion had gnashed its teeth ineffectually – all this in the blink of an eye – it smartly struck its hind leg on the snout of the great beast and bounded up and away behind the lion.

 

The dust thrown up by the onrushing Punter, the feints of the antelope and then Punter’s vain last minute attempt at lunging up to catch the prey, was almost a thick screen now. Eager lions tearing in from all parts of the grassland converged on Punter – only to come to a bone jarring halt at the last minute – seeing that it was their leader and not the prey they sought, who lay behind that dust screen.

 

And their leader was smarting – not just from defeat but also from a bright and round, red bruise on his snout planted by the antelope’s cloven hooves. Punter would certainly hunt and hunt well tomorrow and the days after that but the legend would not be his. The 17th successful hunt would remain unconquered. Amidst the raucous, but at the same time disbelieving laugh of the far off hyenas and the impatient cawing of the vultures circling above, Punter closes his eyes and regroups his energy. This skirmish may have been lost but the image of that antelope not just escaping but also striking him a blow – which may not have maimed him but certainly has him branded – remains on his eyes long after the hunt.

 

The antelope is running free – for now. And the pride assembles under their usual Acacia tree to rest under the sparse shadow that it provides from the searing sun – eyeing the antelope and planning the gruesome things that they would do to it, tomorrow.