Page 69 of Beasts of Mine

“On my table,” I replied to the amber-eyed leopard, pointing toward the exact spot where I'd left it the night before.

Still found it, the amber-eyed leopard argued, dropping onto the ground and beginning to turn away with his prize.

“Oh, absolutely not,” I told the amber-eyed leopard, grabbing my boots without bothering to tie them as he immediately broke into a run.

I chased him, although not far enough to sacrifice all dignity. He circled the platform once, bounded over a fallen branch, and stopped twenty feet away when I refused to follow him into a stretch of mud deep enough to swallow the tops of my boots. The blue cloth still hung from his mouth, and his tail moved in a lazy sweep behind him.

“Give it back,” I told the amber-eyed leopard, planting both hands on my hips while I remained safely on the dry side of the mud.

Come get it, the amber-eyed leopard told me, lowering his head slightly while the bright challenge in his eyes made it obvious he was enjoying himself.

“You are a terrible person,” I informed the amber-eyed leopard, glaring at him across the mud before the last word registered.

Person.

Not animal.

I went still, and apparently I wasn't the only one who noticed. Cat raised his head near the platform, the darker leopard turned toward me from beside one of the rear supports, and even the amber-eyed menace paused for half a second.

Then his eyes brightened.

Person? the amber-eyed leopard asked me, tipping his ears eagerly forward while my lens cloth remained clamped between his teeth.

“You know what I meant. Give it back,” I told the amber-eyed leopard quickly, pointing toward the cloth rather than examining why that particular word had come so naturally.

He dropped it.

Directly into the mud.

I made a noise loud enough to send several birds bursting from a nearby tree while the amber-eyed leopard spun around and fled into the vegetation.

A low, rough huff came from behind me. I turned toward Cat and found him stretched beside the platform with one eye half closed and his whiskers pulled forward. I knew that expression by now.

He was enjoying this.

It was funny, Cat told me, lifting his head when he caught me glaring at him and sounding completely unapologetic.

“He dropped my lens cloth in the mud on purpose,” I told Cat, marching back toward the platform while holding the filthy cloth between two fingers. “I'm allowed to be annoyed.”

You have more, Cat replied, glancing toward the equipment shelf where, unfortunately, several clean cloths were stored inside a waterproof pouch.

“That isn't the point,” I told Cat, stopping at the bottom of the steps and narrowing my eyes at him.

What is the point? Cat asked me, tipping his head slightly while his tail rested across the damp ground.

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

“The point is that he's annoying,” I told Cat at last, climbing the steps while the darker leopard watched the exchange from beside the rear support.

You knew that yesterday, Cat reminded me, lowering his chin onto his paws with maddening satisfaction.

He had me there. The amber-eyed leopard returned before breakfast. He did not bring an apology. He brought another fruit.

I was beginning to suspect this was his solution to most problems.

“Bribery?” I asked the amber-eyed leopard, looking down at the reddish fruit he'd placed beside my boot while he sat in front of me with an expression of complete innocence.

Gift, the amber-eyed leopard corrected me, lifting one paw to groom it as though there were no connection whatsoever between the fruit and the muddy lens cloth.