Leila's Story

• Sarah Walsh, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2016

The sun’s morning rays blazed down on the barren land, which stretched miles across an open field. Dry grasslands spread out far and wide. Hidden in the scarce shade of great boulders or against the few trees that dotted the landscape, grew coarse, green shrubbery. Their delectable and sweet scent filled Leila’s nostrils, as she breathed in the dusty, dry air. Reaching for the brilliant green new growth that sprouted from a small shrub, clinging to the base of a jagged rock. She crunched her teeth down, gripping the plant, tearing the leaves, careful not to uproot it. Her thick grey hide caked in mud, two ivory horns prominent upon her forehead. Her eyes calm and gentle, exhaustion taking over.
Leila strolled over to the murky water hole, lined with thick slimy mud. She sloshed into the cool water, lapping at the rippling surface. Quenching her thirst. Wading out of the water she stopped in the mud, as it squelched around her feet. Smothering herself in the mud as she rolled over, covering her hide for protection against the burning sun. Wandering over to the dappling shade of an old Baobab tree, Leila lay down, closing her eyes, heavy with sleep.
‘Crack’. A horrific crash, thundered throughout the dry plains. Startled, Leila woke from her slumber, to see the mass panic that had erupted. Stampeding animals charging in all different directions, the smell of blood and fear crowding the air. A sharp pain spread throughout her body. Catching a glimpse of shining silver, from the corner of her eye. Glancing over she saw the pale faces peering from the bushes, wearing the colours of her home. But these did not belong, the monstrosity that they held before them, was no creation of nature, a weapon. One of the creatures raised the glinting weapon, aiming it at her. Noise exploded behind the creatures, so that they turned their piercing gaze away from Leila. She seized the moment and ran. Faster than she had ever run before, the world a blur around her, fear threatening to take control. Images flashed through her mind, of how the animals had told stories of these creatures. Murderers, killing in cold blood, the stories told of the war they created. The stories of all her kind that had fallen under their cruel rampage, many dead, many wounded and so many fleeing for their life. She ran and she ran afraid to look back, the possibility that they were still there, their weapons raised. She listened, but all she could hear was her rapid heartbeat and her own unsteady breathing. No deafening screeches or crashes, only silence. Slowing down, she caught her breath. The reek of blood clung in the air, pain still raced throughout her body. Leila looked down to see blood trickling down her leg.
It was then that a new story began, a story that was passed down through generations of the black rhino kind, warning them of the bloodthirsty creatures, known as, ‘poachers’.