Issue 60, Winter 1974
The lion turned to glare back over its shoulder. At the same time there came the Slam! Slam! of guns and up ahead in the burning red sand-dune spurts of dust like sudden tufts of dead grass where the bullets hit. At the lion's side the wounded lioness dragged herself. Her jaw was open and blood on the teeth and tongue, blood in a streak down her side below the shoulder-blade. There was a blue-grey thing, a truck. They were firing from the truck, afraid to dismount. The lion was afraid too but also angry.
They had killed one lioness and two half-grown cubs and wounded the second lioness. Now they were after it and after the lion especially; they fired from the moving truck which was cruising across the fiat and the aim was not sure.