Page 20 of Beasts of Mine

I stared at the leopard.

He stared back.

Apparently, he wasn't particularly impressed by my entrance.

“No,” I whispered to the leopard, pressing one hand against the rough bark beside me while my heartbeat pounded painfully against my ribs. “No. I'm not doing this again.”

The leopard shifted beneath the roots, and a slight tightening around his eyes showed how much the movement hurt him.

You came to me, the leopard pointed out, his deep voice carrying a calmness that seemed entirely inappropriate considering I was having another crisis several yards away.

“I know I came to you,” I told the leopard, slowly straightening as I tried to convince my body that running wasn't necessary. “I just wasn't prepared for you to answer.”

One of his ears flicked.

You speak constantly, the leopard replied, watching me with an expression that somehow managed to seem unimpressed. Why is it strange when someone answers?

My mouth opened.

I stopped.

That was annoyingly reasonable.

“You're a leopard,” I reminded him, gesturing toward his enormous spotted body as though he might somehow have missed that particular detail.

I am aware, the leopard answered, lowering his head slightly while his tail moved once through the leaves behind him.

A loud squawk came from above us.

She had the same reaction yesterday, the scarlet macaw announced, landing heavily on a branch that dipped beneath his weight.

I looked up so quickly that my neck protested.

“You again?” I asked the macaw, irritation pushing through some of my shock when I recognized the same bright red feathers from the clearing.

You are entertaining, the macaw replied, sidestepping along the branch while fluffing his feathers proudly. I decided to keep you.

“You decided to—” I started to argue with the macaw, then stopped when I realized I was standing beside a creek debating ownership with a bird while an injured leopard listened. “You know what? Never mind.”

The leopard released a low sound from beneath the roots.

It took me a second to recognize it.

He was amused.

I turned toward him.

“Are you laughing at me?” I asked the leopard, narrowing my eyes as his whiskers shifted slightly.

No, the leopard replied, lowering his chin across his uninjured paw while failing spectacularly at sounding innocent.

The macaw leaned forward on his branch.

He is, the macaw confirmed cheerfully, his black eyes bright with delight at being able to cause trouble.

The leopard's growl rolled through the clearing. The macaw immediately flapped several branches higher.

I laughed before I could stop myself. It was brief, but it loosened something inside my chest.