Page 83 of Storm over the Caribbean
“Um…all right, so maybe this doesn’t look very good for me, but I promise I didn’t mean to—”
The wild boar charged.
“Oh bloody hell!”
I burst out into the clearing, startling the little piglet and sending it scrambling away into the underbrush. Right now, though, I couldn’t care less, because…
“Oooiiink!”
Yes, that was why.
The enraged mama pig raced after me, screeching and grunting and growling what I was pretty sure were death-threats in Piganese. Or was it Piggish?
“Ooooink!”
This really isn’t the bloody time to think about that, Lilly!
I glanced back, for just a moment—and regretted it an instant later. The mama pig was catching up, fast! And worse…
“Aaaaaah!”
Yep. Bloody stinking root. Did I have to tripnow, of all times?
I barely managed to catch myself before I hit the ground. More to the point, before my belly did. Instantly, I rolled to the side and—
“Grrrawww!”
The bristly beast rushed past me, missing me only by inches. I didn’t have time to send a prayer of appreciation heavenwards, or express my thanks to the patron saint of hungry mama pigs for not gutting me. She was already slowing down and coming for another round.
“Oooink!”
Crap, crap, crap!
Scrambling to my feet, I dashed back into the bushes in the desperate hope the underbrush would slow her down. Good news: it worked. Bad news: it also slowedmedown! Quite a lot more than the furious four-legged beast behind me.
“Shitcrapdamn!”
“Grraaw!”
Smash! Crack!
I wasnever evergoing to try being the breadwinner of the family again. Not, at least, unless I was armed with my trusty revolver, ten Gatling guns and three dozen sticks of dynamite! And I wasmost certainlynot going to do it while the “bread” in question came in the form of a hundred and sixty pounds of angry pork.
How the heck was I going to get out of this?
“Screeaa-ee-ee-each! Ooink!”
Scratch that. How was I going to survive the next five minutes?!
By running, Lilly. That’s how.
I really, really,reallyhated that inner voice of mine right now. I especially hated that she had a point. My legs pumped painfully. Twigs and thorns tore through my petticoat and into my skin. Behind me, the thundering sound of the wild boar’s hooves pounding against the ground approached faster and faster. Its speed was only outdone by the panicked sound of my own heart pounding in my ears.
Crap, crap, crap! I won’t be able to get away! I’ll get trampled by a bloody pig and there’s not a thing I could do about—
That’s when I saw it. The tree.
I was under no illusions regarding my capability to climb a tree in my current condition. Heck, I was rather doubtful about my ability to climb a tree while Iwasn’tpregnant, let alone when I wasandI had an enraged wild pig chasing after me!
