Page 21 of Beasts of Mine

The leopard was still a wild predator. He still had teeth large enough to do catastrophic damage if I misjudged him, and nothing about understanding his thoughts made his physical capabilities less dangerous.

But there was intelligence behind his eyes.

Humor.

A personality.

That made it much harder to see him as something waiting to attack me. I carefully stepped across the remaining stones and stopped several yards from the exposed roots.

“My name is Evie,” I told the leopard, lowering my field pack slowly onto the damp ground so he could see exactly what I was doing. “I'm staying at the research station nearby, and I have medical supplies with me. If you let me close enough, I might be able to help with those wounds.”

The leopard studied me in silence, his gaze moving from my face to the pack beside my knee.

I know who you are, the leopard replied after several seconds, his ears relaxing slightly.

My fingers paused against the zipper.

“You know who I am?” I asked the leopard, glancing briefly toward the surrounding trees before returning my attention to him.

The forest talks, the leopard answered, giving the macaw above us a pointed look.

The bird puffed his chest proudly.

Apparently, privacy did not exist here.

“Fantastic,” I muttered to the leopard, opening my medical kit and laying out saline, antiseptic, gauze, and bandages on a clean cloth. “I've been here less than two days and somehow the wildlife already has gossip about me.”

You are easy to discuss, the macaw offered from above, leaning sideways to get a better look at my supplies.

“That wasn't an invitation for commentary,” I told the macaw, pointing toward him with the roll of gauze before looking back at the leopard.

The leopard's attention followed my hands.

His nose moved slightly. It was subtle enough that I might not have noticed if I hadn't spent years watching animals through a lens.

He inhaled again.

Longer this time.

Something about his posture changed.

Not aggression.

If anything, he seemed to become more focused on me. I resisted the urge to lift my arm and smell myself.

“What?” I asked the leopard, suddenly self-conscious beneath his concentrated attention. The leopard remained quiet for a moment, his nostrils flaring once more before his gaze returned to mine.

Nothing, the leopard answered, settling himself more carefully against the ground.

“That was definitely not nothing,” I told him, pulling on a pair of gloves while trying to understand why my skin suddenly felt warmer.

He didn't explain.

I had a feeling that was going to become a habit.

“I need to come closer if I'm going to help you,” I warned the leopard, moving only after giving him enough time to object. “If something hurts or you want me to stop, tell me before you decide to communicate with your teeth.”

The leopard's gaze dropped toward my hand.