Serafina and the Twisted Staff. Robert Beatty

wave of black calm passed through her, inviting her to simply shut her eyes and let everything go. A cloud of sickening colours veiled her eyes. She could feel herself passing out. How easy it would be to simply drift away. But a fierceness boiled in her heart. Get up! she told herself. Run! Get home! She struggled to rouse herself, to get onto her feet, to at least raise her head.

      She opened her eyes and squinted through the blood. The terrain on this side of the river was low and gentle, dotted with ferns and birch trees, so different from the rocky cliffs that she had left behind on the other side. She saw a light coming towards her in the darkness. At first she thought it must be a twinkling star, for the sky was clear, but it wasn’t one light. It was many lights.

      She felt her chest trying helplessly to suck in air in anticipation of an attack, but even in the haze of her fear she hoped that it might be a torch or lantern, her pa coming in search of her like he had once before.

      But then she saw that the lights weren’t the flickering flames of a lantern, but the scintillating dance of living creatures floating in the air and coming towards her down the river.

      Are they fireflies? she wondered as they came closer.

      But these were much larger and bright green in colour, their wings slowly flashing white and green, white and green, as they flew, like the wings of luminescent butterflies.

      But they’re not butterflies, either, she thought with a smile. They’re luna moths.

      It was an entire eclipse of moths, each one pale green in colour and glowing in the moonlight, hundreds of them flying together down the length of the river, their long tails streaming behind their silent, gently fluttering wings.

      She had found her first luna moth in Biltmore’s gardens one midsummer’s night when she was a little girl. She remembered the moth’s almost magical glow in the starlit darkness as she held it in her open hand, its wings moving gently up and down. But it was strange to see so many of them travelling together. Was she imagining this? Was this how death came? A distant memory from the midnights of her past?

      But, as she watched the luna moths flying over the water, it struck her again that they weren’t just hovering. They were travelling down the length of the stream, as if they would follow this river to the one that it flowed into, and then onward to the next river, and the next, through the mountains, and all the way to the sea. They were leaving this place. Just like the birds.

      She heard the wolfhounds barking and howling to each other on the cliff on the other side of the river. They were coming.

      As the last of the luna moths disappeared, she tried to push herself up onto her weakened arms, but she didn’t have the strength. She tried to get her legs underneath her, but she couldn’t.

      But she’d seen the luna moths for a reason. She was sure of it.

      She looked around for a place to take cover and noticed a grove of birch trees just a few feet away. As she tried to figure out how she was going to reach the trees, she saw a pair of eyes glinting in the darkness.

      The eyes were keeping their distance, studying her.

      Serafina held the eyes in her gaze and breathed as steadily as she could.

      At first, she thought she had misjudged the position of the wolfhounds, that they had already crossed the river and were now surrounding her. But these weren’t the searing black eyes of the wolfhounds. The eyes were golden brown.

      A flood of relief flowed into her.

      She knew who it must be.

      ‘I need your help,’ she whispered.

      But what emerged from the forest jolted her with a shock of fear. A mountain lion she had never seen before came straight at her. He was a young lion, with dark fur, but he looked strong, unafraid and hungry. He was not at all the creature she was expecting.

      Serafina tried to get up to defend herself, but it was no use. The beast could easily kill her.

      Then, even as she tried to figure out how she was going to fight this unknown lion, a second lion emerged from the trees.

      She breathed a sigh of relief. It was a lioness, full-grown and full of power; a lioness she knew well.

      When her mother was in her lion form, she was more beautiful than ever, with a thick tan coat, huge paws and the muscles of many hunts. Her striking face and golden eyes glowed with intelligence.

      ‘I’m so glad it’s you, Momma,’ Serafina said, surprised by the tearful desperation in her own voice.

      But in that moment, before Serafina could make out any sort of answer in her mother’s eyes, the lioness suddenly turned her head and looked across the river.

      Then Serafina heard it too. The wolfhounds were upon them. And it wasn’t just two any more. The five were united again, growling and barking and snarling. They would be here in seconds.

      

      Serafina’s mother moved quickly towards her and flattened herself beside her. Serafina didn’t understand what she was doing. Then the darker lion came and nudged Serafina’s body with his head. At first, she thought the lions were trying to rub against her and disguise her scent with theirs, but then she realised their true intention.

      Serafina climbed onto her mother’s back, clutching her neck and shoulders. With the lioness carrying her and the dark lion close at her side, the three of them moved into the trees, slowly at first, and then more quickly. Serafina felt her mother’s fur against her face, and the force of her mother’s lungs, and the power of her muscles. The lioness began to move more swiftly through the forest. Soon they were running.

      It was the most incredible feeling, streaming through the night at high speed, propelled by the undulating rhythm of the lioness’s bounding stride, so strong and quiet and fast, the dark lion running beside her. Serafina had dreamed of running like this many times, but she had never moved this fast in her entire life. What amazed her was how smooth it was, how agile her mother’s movements, how quickly she could change direction and speed, with both grace and power at her command.

      When they reached a prominence of high ground, the two lions paused and looked down towards the river. They watched as the five wolfhounds followed Serafina’s scent to the edge of the river, then crossed it. But they went straight across, not realising she had been swept far downstream by the powerful current. At the time, it had felt like a catastrophe that the river had pulled her off her feet and carried her away, but now she realised that it had saved her. The wolfhounds sniffed the ground, circling in confusion. They’d lost her scent. And when they ran up and down the edge of the river looking to find her trail, their confusion mounted.

      They can’t find me, Serafina thought with a smile as she clung to her mother’s back. All they can smell is mountain lion.

      Suddenly, the lions were moving again, running through the forest at high speed, leaping small ravines and creeks, dashing through ferns. The branches and trunks of the trees flashed by. The whistle of the wind filled her ears.

      They ran for so long through the night that Serafina’s eyes closed, and all she could feel was the movement of the running, the coolness of the air above her, and the warmth of her mother beneath her.

      

      Serafina awoke a short time later on a bed of soft bright green grass that glowed in the moonlight. She felt the warmth of nuzzling fur and the deep and gentle vibration of purring. Her mother’s two cubs snuggled up against Serafina, kneading her back with their tiny paws,