The tiger had thus far killed nine villagers.
The villagers believed that the tiger was taking revenge. Someone had shot at her and stolen her two cubs. The tiger did not die; the shot had only grazed her shoulder. Now she was angry with men.
The hunter arrived in the village, confident that he would track and kill the tiger. He had a reputation for killing man-eating tigers, even the most cunning ones. Two villagers led him to the place where the remains of the last victim, a teenaged girl, were found. She had been killed the previous day.
The hunter found the tracks of the tiger. The tracks were fresh. He knew he had no time to loose. He began the hunt.
He followed the tracks for more than six hours; but he was not able to sight the tiger. At many places he sensed the presence of the tiger but not even once he could see her. Rather there were moments when he felt that the tiger was stalking him. This tiger did scare him.
The sun set and the hunter had to return to his camp.
The night was dark and eerily silent. He decided to keep the rifle loaded.
He woke up with a start. He had left the lamp on but the light was dim.
He shivered. He was looking into the eyes of an angry tiger; her paws were on the rifle which he had kept close by.
A post for Sunday Photo Fiction