Page 39 of Beasts of Mine

“That is somehow worse,” I admitted to the leopard, taking another bite as his whiskers shifted in a way I'd started associating with restrained amusement.

“You're enjoying this,” I accused the leopard after swallowing, pointing the sandwich toward him while he lowered himself more comfortably against the earth.

A little, the leopard admitted, resting his weight against one hip as his golden-brown eyes remained on me.

“Which part?” I asked the leopard, curiosity getting the better of me even though I already suspected I'd dislike the answer.

Mostly the part where you argue with birds, the leopard replied, his eyes drifting half closed while his body relaxed beneath the shade of the roots.

“They start it,” I told the leopard, sitting straighter in immediate defense while the absurdity of having to explain this somehow failed to escape me.

I'm sure they do, the leopard answered, his dry tone and the slight movement of one ear making it obvious he didn't believe a word of it.

“They do,” I insisted, lifting my chin at him before taking another bite.

And the monkeys? the leopard asked, opening one eye as though he intended to conduct a full investigation now.

“They also start it,” I told the leopard, brushing a loose strand of hair away from my cheek while the humid air immediately encouraged it to fall back.

The toucan? the leopard continued, clearly enjoying himself now as the rumble in his chest threatened to return.

“He was particularly rude,” I informed the leopard, lifting my sandwich toward him as though presenting the most convincing piece of evidence available.

And me? the leopard asked, raising his head enough that both eyes were open again. I considered him for a moment, letting my gaze travel over his far too innocent expression.

“You're probably the worst one,” I told the leopard, nodding decisively before returning to my lunch while his rumbling laugh followed the movement.

We ate quietly for several minutes after that while water moved around the smooth stones in the creek and insects buzzed through the ferns surrounding the roots. Occasional droplets fell from leaves overhead whenever something disturbed the branches, and the cooler shade beneath the tree made sitting there far more comfortable than most of the trail had been.

The silence with him never felt awkward anymore.

That realization had crept up on me over the last several days until it had become something I accepted without thinking. I could talk to him for twenty minutes without stopping and then spend the next ten saying nothing at all, and neither felt uncomfortable. He didn't demand conversation or seem bored when I became absorbed in my camera.

He simply stayed.

The toucan's earlier comment returned while I was finishing my sandwich.

“Do I really smell like you?” I asked the leopard, turning toward him as I gathered the loose wrapper into my lap. His head lifted and his attention sharpened enough that I immediately became aware of how strange the question sounded when said out loud.

Yes, the leopard answered, drawing in a quiet breath through his nose while his eyes remained fixed on me.

I looked down at my shirt as though there might be something visible there.

“The toucan said it's because I sit where you sleep,” I told the leopard, rubbing the fabric between my fingers while I tried to imagine what animals with more sensitive noses were picking up.

That's part of it, the leopard replied, watching me closely as one of his ears tipped forward.

I looked back at him, catching the phrasing immediately.

“Part of it?” I asked the leopard, letting the fabric slip from my fingers as suspicion returned.

You spend a lot of time near me, the leopard explained, his tone becoming deliberately casual while he resettled his front paws beneath him.

“That still sounds suspiciously vague,” I told the leopard, keeping my eyes on him as a faint breeze moved through the ferns beside us.

You wanted an explanation. I gave you one, the leopard replied, meeting my stare without any indication that he intended to elaborate.

“A bad one,” I told the leopard with a small snort, shifting my empty lunch wrapper toward the open backpack.