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“Hey, relax, my grumpy friend. It attacked us first. I was only defending us.”
“Then you should have fucking killed it and stopped playing around!”
“Damn, someone’s snappy today,” he mutters. “Did you miss breakfast?”
I almost punch him, or would have if I wasn’t too panicky to focus on his voice.
I’m unnerved. In the dark, as I always am, on a plain where I’ve never been, facing an animal I’ve never seen.
Yes, I’m snappy and grumpy. I’m fucking terrified, not that I’ll ever admit as much to Taj if it kills me. My heart is stabbing at my ribs with every beat.
And then Taj pushes me back again and I lose what little fucking composure I have left.
“Where? Where the fuck is it?” I catch myself before I fall and turn back toward him. “Taj, damn you!”
He’s racing away from me. To draw the jaguar away from me, my rational mind tells me, but I’m way too pissed with him, way too scared for him to listen to that little voice, the voice that tells me that I should stay put, let him draw the animal away, that I can’t see, therefore I’m justified to let him help me, let him protect me.
Fuck that shit. I’m the one who should protect the idiot. Fighting battles with the army—if that, because we haven’t had a real war in a thousand years—doesn’t compare to fighting jaguars one-on-one.
And what experience do you have fighting wild beasts? the little voice screams in my head, but this time I ignore it. Taj is running, and I hear the jaguar leaping after him, and damn reason and self-preservation, I’m not letting anyone take Taj from me.
From us.
I start running blindly toward the animal, yelling a war-cry—and the shape of the jaguar erupts into light.
It takes me a long moment to realize what I am seeing, to realize that I am seeing something, almost a moment too long, and I lurch to a stop, trying to make sense of what my senses are showing me.
The jaguar turns and leaps at me without breaking stride—a new target, a new annoying meal on two legs—and its shape is outlined against the dark world, a lightning strike in the shape of an attacking predator, claws extended, jaw open.
I leap, too, to meet it halfway, barely registering Taj’s howl of dismay. I twist my body in midair, bringing my fists down on the jaguar’s huge head, still howling out my anger and my damn outrage at the world.
This fucking world.
Next thing I know I’m lying on my ass in the dirt, my head ringing and my chest hurting like a bitch, and I can’t fucking remember where I am and why I taste blood in my mouth.
Light flashes against the dark, again and again, keeping time with my heart. My head pounds sickly.
Then a hand grasps mine, slippery with blood. The coppery scent makes me want to throw up.
“Finnen? Finn!” Taj sounds kind of frantic. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” I grunt. “I’m fine.” He pulls me up to sit and I bow my head, hoping the sickness passes. “Yours?” I growl. “Is the blood yours?”
“No. It’s the jaguar’s.”
“Is it dead? Did you kill it?”
“No, it… got dealt with.”
“What in the nine hells do you mean?” I mutter, lifting my other hand to press against my temple with a wince. I’m still sitting on my ass and I don’t even know if the jaguar is dead. “Use actual words, Taj, and tell me.”
“Calm your tits.”
“How can I calm my—?”
“Someone else took care of it for us.”
“If you don’t explain, Taj, and quickly, I might just kill you.”
