Page 24 of Beasts of Mine

“Someone has to make sure you don't tear everything open again,” I told the leopard, trying to keep my tone light despite the unexpected warmth that spread through my chest. “And apparently you can't be trusted to follow basic medical instructions.”

The leopard watched me for another moment.

Then I will wait, the leopard replied, lowering his head onto his paws with a calm certainty that made something inside me tighten strangely.

I told myself it was because he was injured.

That was all.

I was concerned. Any decent person would have been. The explanation sounded perfectly reasonable right up until I found myself thinking about him for the rest of the afternoon.

CHAPTER FOUR

EVIE

I returned the next day.

Then the day after that. By the fourth afternoon, pretending the visits were purely medical had become a little embarrassing.

His injuries did need checking, but they were healing remarkably well. The swelling around his leg had gone down, the long wound across his side was closing cleanly, and he could walk without the same obvious discomfort I'd seen during our first meeting.

I still brought medical supplies.

I also brought food.

Convincing the station cook to give me raw chicken had required claiming I wanted it for a trail-camera bait station. I wasn't particularly proud of the lie, but I figured photographing the leopard eventually would make it at least partially true.

The first time I arrived with the container, his nose lifted before I had even crossed the creek.

Food, the leopard observed, pushing himself upright beneath the roots while his eyes settled immediately on the container in my hand.

“Try not to sound too excited,” I told him, setting my pack on the ground before opening the lid. “You're destroying the whole mysterious-predator thing you've got going on.”

I was not aware I had a mysterious-predator thing, the leopard replied, although his attention didn't leave the raw chicken.

“You live alone in a hidden section of rainforest and refuse to tell me anything about yourself,” I told him, placing several pieces on a broad clean leaf within reach. “That's practically the definition of mysterious.”

The leopard leaned toward the food.

Perhaps you ask too many questions, the leopard replied before taking the first piece of chicken.

“Maybe you give terrible answers,” I told him, sitting several feet away and pulling my own lunch from my bag.

The corner of his mouth didn't move.

His whiskers did.

I had learned enough by then to recognize the reaction.

“You're laughing at me again,” I accused the leopard, pointing one piece of my sandwich toward him.

Eat your food, Evie, the leopard replied, continuing with his chicken as though he hadn't heard me.

I narrowed my eyes.

He ignored that too.

Somewhere during those visits, sitting beside the creek became one of my favorite parts of the day.