Jungle Law

Jungle Law
by S.L. Armstrong & K. Piet
Copyright June 2012
Available for free in digital formats at StormMoonPress.com.

All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing, except for quotations included in critical articles and/or reviews, without prior written permission from Storm Moon Press.

***

He'd made quick work of the poachers. Poachers in his territory never lasted long. He liked it like that. It meant the leopards he protected, claimed as his, were safe. Well, safer. Men with their guns and knives and lack of care for what they mutilated, killed, and destroyed were nothing but meat to him. Meat to be slaughtered. Not eaten, though. Never eaten. Left to rot as they left behind those of his kind, killed for their fur and little else. He had no patience for such destruction, and he had no mercy for the humans that infiltrated his forest.

In the midst of the attack, though, he'd lost sight of one of the culprits. Young with dark hair, slanted eyes, and a scent of pure fear that he remembered vividly. The boy had run from him, but the men had taken out their guns, shot at him, and he'd forgotten about the boy until it was all over. Still, the boy's scent was strong, intense, leading him along a mindless path through the dense, humid jungle. The boy was still here, somewhere, and he was determined to find the last interloper. He'd leave no poacher to return to the cities, to bring back tales of a vicious leopard that killed men.

No, no witnesses. If there were no witnesses, fewer hunting parties came looking for leopards. For him. He had to find the boy. At some point, the boy had washed his stink off in a little pool of water. The boy was clever, but that cleverness didn't help against a leopard. He could still smell the boy, potent and terrified, and then the boy's cleverness ran out.

Urine.

He could smell the sharp ammonia scent on a bush nearby. It was the third bush he'd smelled it on. This time, though, he also smelled blood. It would make the boy easier to find. Blood and piss. He followed the trail, moving silently through the dense underbrush, careful where each paw landed. He was close. Blood and piss and sweat now. Sweat didn't last as long on the air, so the boy was near. Probably by the lake. Fresh water was important, even to poachers. He'd find the boy there. His tail flicked impatiently as he stalked along an edge of water, the sun high and hot, the water inviting. But he ignored the water itself.

Piss and blood and sweat and vomit. Vomit and sour mushroom. The boy must have eaten one of the floor fungi. From the acidic edge he could scent, it was one of the blue-gilled ones. The boy, with or without his furious intervention, was on borrowed time. He almost wanted to leave the boy to suffer. His leopards hadn't been shown any mercy or peace, and so why should he offer them any? The boy would suffer a few days more before the mushroom's toxins took his life, and suffering...

He growled. If he did that, though, he'd be as cruel and terrible as the men who invaded his jungle. Damn it. Damn *him*. He followed the scent of vomit until he heard soft weeping, a rustling of dry vegetation. Cleverness, it seemed, had run out when hunger drove the boy to eat unsafe food. With a loud growl, he entered the small clearing, crouched low to the ground with his tail sweeping back and forth behind him, his teeth bared. The boy, writhing on a poorly made bed of fern fronds, saw him, cried out, and tried to scuttle back, but the pain wracking his body made it impossible.

The fear was thick on the air, and then the scent of urine struck him. The boy had wet himself. By all that was holy, this wasn't justice. It wasn't even a mercy killing. The pain in the boy's eyes—he couldn't be more than a year into his manhood—pulled at him. Compassion reared its inconvenient head, and he knew he wouldn't kill the boy. The boy wasn't a poacher. He wore clothing that was all but rags, and he was too skinny. Poachers, while lean, weren't skinny with hunger. This boy was. A tool, then. A tool that had been dragged into the forest without any knowledge of the flora around him. Now, that tool was his responsibility.

Another growl filled his throat, and he turned to run off into the forest. Dark would come soon, and he didn't have much time. It took him an hour to find the blue-gilled mushrooms. Near them, as was usually the case, grew the antidote. Hopefully, the boy hadn't eaten the mushrooms too long ago. In a fluid moment of thought, he shifted from leopard to man. Hands made cutting the vine easier. He used a sharp piece of rock from the forest floor, and then he took the vine and ran back through the jungle. If the boy was lucky, he'd make it in time to give him the antidote and light a fire. It would be cold tonight, and with how little clothing the boy had, he was surprised the creature hadn't died yet.

When he burst through the tree line again, the boy cried out once more, but when the boy saw him as man not beast, he relaxed. The boy said something, but he didn't understand. The language was wrong. Besides, he knew very little of the language spoken in his own lands, let alone a foreign tongue. He crouched beside the boy and used his nail to slice open the vine. He mimicked bringing the vine's slick interior to his lips, hoping the boy understood. The boy needed to eat the insides of the vine. Quickly. When the boy just looked at him, he growled and made the motion again, holding the inside of the vine up to the boy's mouth.

Understanding sparked in the boy's eyes at last, and his tongue darted out to lick at the vine. The boy recoiled an instant later, though, and his quick hand caught the dark hair and yanked the boy's head back toward him. He knew the slimy innards of the vine were bitter and unpleasant, but it was eat or die, and dammit, the boy was going to do as told. He growled and shoved the vine against the boy's lips, and even though the boy whimpered, he licked and chewed obediently. He chuffed and loosened his grip, moving the vine across to encourage the boy to eat more. When the boy tried to pull away sooner than he thought was wise, all it took was another yank, and that obedience returned, albeit with a groan of protest.

When the section of vine was eaten clean, he set the rest of the long coil aside and released the boy's hair with a satisfied hum. The boy said something again. It sounded like a question, but he had no answer for a question he couldn't understand. Instead, he just pressed his hand to the boy's chest, and then brought his palm to the ground. The boy spoke again, another question, but the boy pointed to himself and the ground, and it seemed he understood, so he just nodded with another purring hum before standing.

He had a lot of work to do and very little time to do it in. Nightfall was too close to waste time attempting more communication with the foolish boy. He went into the surrounding forest again in search of fallen wood. Only a few good logs were close to the lake, so he gathered them and set them down next to the human. The boy watched until another bout of sickness had him curled up on his side in pain. He needed more wood for a fire, though, so he abandoned the boy again, running to a tree he knew of that had once been struck by lightning. It was nearly overgrown, but the vines pulled away easily enough, and he ripped off a few branches, grateful the rains had been light enough to spare the brittle wood and bark from excess moisture.

Back near the lake, the boy was still curled up and groaning, but there was a new puddle of vomit nearby that made his nose crinkle. He'd have to force more of the antidote into the boy soon. As it was, he had gathered enough to start a fire and keep it going for a while. The rest of what he needed was hidden in the opposite direction, and after taking a few mouthfuls of water from the lake, he ran again, returning with a pack he had scavenged from poachers he had killed in the past. Most of what poachers carried was useless to him, but he didn't always stay in his feline form, and when he took the form of a man, there were some tools that made life infinitely easier. He had scattered the packs throughout his territory for convenience, but he hadn't thought he would ever use one to benefit some trespassing human.

The boy was sitting up again, and the initial fear at hearing his approach dissipated again with his appearance through the trees and vines. He set the pack down, and when the boy reached out for it, he growled. The boy probably didn't even know what to do with the contents. He spent a few minutes clearing the area and took out two containers and a pair of stones. He looked up at the sky and sighed. The sun was quickly setting, which meant their shelter would have to be simple for the night. The boy's eyes were on him most of the time, but he ignored him for the moment. He smeared a circle of semi-solid resin into a dip on a flat piece of wood and struck the two stones against one another until a spark ignited the resin. Building the fire was easy after that, and the scent of resin and wood smoke filled the area.

He spared a glance to the boy, who shifted closer to the heat of the fire with an odd combination of fear and awe in his eyes. The movements were awkward, a bit uncoordinated, and by the hue of the boy's skin, he suspected the boy had a fever. It meant another trip into the woods for a few herbs and barks, and he huffed his annoyance, pointing to a pile of larger sticks, which the boy handed to him when he held out his palm. He brought the boy lake water in a wooden bowl from the pack and set to making a proper shelter with a large piece of thick fabric which he tied up over the low-hanging branch of a tree right next to the fire. He used a vine to secure the middle of the fabric above them so they would be protected from rain in the night.

Just as the shelter was finished, the boy shifted away again. He only managed a couple feet before another bout of retching began. He sighed and pushed his own hair back from his face. It was going to be a very long night.

***

He hadn't managed any sleep by the time the night was half over. The boy's foolish appetite for poisonous mushrooms had seen to that much. Thanks to frequent bouts of vomiting, neither the vine's antidote nor a mash of herbs and bark to help the fever actually stayed inside the boy long enough to take full effect. By all things good and natural, he'd sired *cubs* that were less trouble! At least the severity of the vomiting was slowly tapering off. He had laid down a proper bed of broad leaves and fronds for them, but it was useless if the boy wasn't able to rest.

After a particularly unpleasant round of diarrhea from the boy that he had to bury—much like the vomit—the boy settled against him. By the lake, the air was cooler, and in his sleep, the boy shivered. He huffed a little, annoyed, and stood, changing his shape again from man to leopard. It was his preferred form, anyway. He was more leopard than man, and wearing the skin of a man was uncomfortable. At least as a leopard, he could keep the boy properly warm. He curled around the sleeping boy and licked at his shoulder and arm. The boy whimpered in his sleep, and then cuddled closer. He rested his head on the boy's filthy hair, and then fell asleep.

It was a pretty decent sleep until a scream woke him. The boy was on his feet, a dozen steps away from their shelter, and the sun was just beginning to warm the water. He stood up and growled. He was *tired*, and the boy was inconsiderate. He'd been quiet through the night, kept the boy warm. How dare the boy repay his kindness with screams and fear? If he'd wanted, he could have eaten the boy by now! Their fire had sputtered in the night, and his own belly rumbled with hunger. Fine. He would leave the boy to panic while he fetched food for them. Safe food.

Stupid screaming human.

He leaped from the clearing and headed into the thickness of the jungle. It took him a few hours to bring down one of the female peafowls, and even though he wanted to eat it immediately, he simply shifted back to the form of a man and picked up the dead bird. Another hour, and he'd managed to find mangoes, some bael fruit, two cashew fruits, some more of the antidote vines, and several tamarind pods. He thought he saw some palms that he could come back to later when the boy's stomach would be able to handle the more fibrous hearts. He returned with his bounty and found the boy in the water, washing himself. He couldn't blame the boy. After a night of unpleasant bodily fluids, he'd want to wash, too.

The boy looked up when he appeared through the tree line. Fear swirled in the dark eyes, but he didn't let it bother him. He put all the fruit down and took the peafowl to the water's edge. He crouched and began to pluck the feathers, eyes always darting back to the boy, watching him, ensuring he didn't slip beneath the surface and drown. Humans did that. He'd seen it happen. Just wander into strange waters and die because of their stupidity. How did the species manage to survive?

The scrawny human exited the lake just as he finished gutting the peafowl, and he washed it briefly in the water before gesturing for the human to follow him to the fire. He fed the flames back to a cheerful height, and then set up a stand that would hold a roasting skewer for the peafowl. He used the wooden bowl from his supply pack to catch the juices from the mango as he cut it open with the sharp end of a stone. He handed the bowl to the boy and motioned to his mouth. The boy seemed to understand. That, or he simply smelled the sweetness of the mango and knew without asking that it was safe to eat.

The boy ate voraciously, and he had to reach over and tug the bowl away for a moment, growling softly. He took a piece and demonstrated that the boy had to eat *slowly*. The stupid human was going to make himself sick all over again at this rate. He huffed his annoyance and took a large stone to try to break open the hard shell of the bael fruit. He soon had all the fruit prepared, and the peafowl sizzled above the fire as he turned it. The skin would be fatty and crispy. It seemed a waste of excellent meat, but he knew humans didn't like it raw.

The boy moaned softly with pleasure at the first bite of hot meat, and the sound brought him the smallest hint of satisfaction. There were murmured words that sounded appreciative, and he reached over to hold up one of the blue mushrooms the human had been foolish enough to eat. He pointed to the bounty of food around them and motioned to the boy's mouth with a nod and purr. He presented the mushroom as a contrast, crossing his arms and growling as he tapped it against the stupid human's forehead and tossed it back into the trees away from their shelter.

His message must have gotten across, because the boy turned a deep shade of red, and he could practically smell the rise of blood and heat, the scent of shame. Perhaps the boy could learn. He didn't have to be so weak, didn't have to be a tool to be taken advantage of by the poachers. Then again, he didn't want the boy around long enough to actually *teach* him all that. He frowned at the thought and sighed as he settled into his own seat and took a bite of meat. It was contrary to his usual diet, but in his human form, it tasted wonderful.

When the boy leaned over and kissed his cheek, he recoiled with surprise. As he stared down at the human, he was graced with a contrite, vaguely grateful smile. The boy leaned close to him again, and he didn't move away when he was gently kissed a second time on the cheek. It was a lingering touch, one that brought the human's natural scent to his nose. When he wasn't covered in vomit and excrement, the boy actually smelled good, and it brought the smallest of smiles to his face. He rubbed the side of his face against the boy's dark hair, which was soft now that it was clean and dry.

At least the boy recognized he had been foolish. At least he was grateful for the care he'd received. It almost made the boy worth the effort of saving and nursing back to health. Almost. They settled into their meal in a comfortable silence. The boy was scooping a few fuzzy seeds from the bael fruit when a spider scuttled across the ground in front of them. The silly human nearly threw the fruit in fear and reached for one of the sticks intended for the fire. He knew what the human was about to do with that stick, and he snatched it away with a growl, barking a wordless reprimand and putting the stick back on the pile before reaching out to delicately pick up the spider. It was a harmless creature, and the stupid boy's first instinct was to kill it? He glared at the boy and held the spider, letting it crawl over his alternating hands.

The boy nodded, but didn't reach for the spider. Good. What was with humans and the killing? If he wanted to kill, it was for survival, nothing more. These humans... they just killed. It made no sense. He let the spider scramble off back into the woods, and he turned his eyes back to the boy.

The boy patted his own chest. "Deshi." A look of frustration crossed his face as he pointed to himself again. "Deshi."

What was the boy saying? His brow furrowed as the boy repeated the gesture. Then it dawned on him. Deshi. The boy's name was Deshi. What a strange name. He pointed to himself. "Kaanan."

"Kaanan?"

"Kaanan." He pointed at the boy. "Deshi."

Deshi smiled at him. He felt a smile curve his own lips. It wasn't much, but it was a start. He didn't even know how to get the boy out of the jungle. This was his home. He didn't travel beyond his territory, and if he left, he couldn't be sure poachers wouldn't come in and take over. Which put him in a difficult position. Deshi was here. He couldn't take Deshi out. Deshi wouldn't be able to find his way out on his own. He huffed and tugged another piece of meat from the bone.

He was stuck with the boy.

Dammit.

***

There was precious little time when moving about as a human in the jungle. As a cat, he could have gotten more done in both the daylight and nighttime hours, but with Deshi around, he'd had to rely on his human form more. It was yet another annoyance, and it made him uncomfortable, but it didn't frighten Deshi as much to see him walking on two legs. He had compromised for nearly three phases of the moon now, almost a full cycle since he had picked up the scent of the poachers and started hunting them down. It was starting to wear thin on him, though. He longed to sharpen his claws against a tree, stretch and flick his tail, let out a proper chuff and growl as he enjoyed a meal raw. With Deshi demanding nearly constant attention, though, he didn't have the chance to shift except to hunt.

Now that Deshi was well again, the boy insisted on helping, and that meant that this excursion into the forest wasn't the hunt he would have preferred. He held out his hand, stopping Deshi behind him. "Wait," he rumbled over his shoulder, relieved to see Deshi nod and stop behind him. At least they had worked out a few words in each of their languages. It certainly wasn't enough to hold a true conversation, but Deshi had surprised him by being expressive with body language. There was intelligence there behind the dark, slanted eyes, but that knowledge seemed focused on things up in the air, things that were far removed from the earth and jungle and life.

He scented the air for a minute and motioned for Deshi to follow him. There was a particularly thick area of vegetation, and he led Deshi around it, using a machete he had taken after going back to fully loot the poachers' bodies. He smiled when they made it past the dense patch, and he pointed to a large tree with several roots growing downward from the branches. It was a beautiful, almost sacred tree to him, and its shade was a wonderful respite from the quickly building heat as the sun climbed higher in the sky.

"F-food?" Deshi asked hesitantly in the local language.

If Deshi was uncertain he had said the word correctly, then he had nothing to worry about. He purred as he nodded at Deshi, cupping his hands into the shape of a fruit. "Yes. Food." He pointed upward and walked close to the tree, working his way up one of the aerial roots to a main branch. He sat on the branch, and when Deshi stared up at him with awe, he shook his head. The boy wasn't even going to attempt to climb up after him and help. He huffed and called down. "Deshi wait. Kaanan food." He motioned that Deshi should catch what he dropped, and he just hoped the boy wouldn't miss. He wanted more than smashed fruit to eat.

It took three tries before Deshi was able to catch the ripe figs he sent down from the boughs of the tree. Each time Deshi missed, he barked at him, glared, and sent another. Fourth time, Deshi caught the fruit and crowed triumphantly. He couldn't help but smile at that, and he moved from branch to branch, plucking ripe, sweet fruits and tossing them down to Deshi's waiting hands. By the time he shimmied down the roots and to the jungle floor, he was coated in sweat, his stomach rumbling. Deshi's shirt was cupped, filled with the figs, and the bright, eager smile on the boy's face brought an odd, pleasant warmth to his chest.

They sat beneath the fig tree eating the sweet fruit, only the occasional moan of enjoyment from the boy filling the air. The moans made him feel strange, a desire unfurling low in his body as Deshi ate the light meal. His eyes kept sliding toward the boy, kept watching as the pink tongue slid out to lick at juices running down a forearm. By the time Deshi began to lick fingers, he was oddly aroused, shifting his leg to hide the growing erection between his thighs. Deshi turned to him, his dark eyes bright and curious, but he seemed completely unaware of his companion's problem.

Deshi pointed at him. "Kaanan..." The boy sighed and swept his hand in front of him, motioning at the forest. "Home?"

Home. It was an odd word, but if Deshi was pointing at him, and then the jungle, then the boy had to be asking if this was where he lived. He nodded, barking out, "Home."

The boy smiled. "Man?"

He knew that word. Men were poachers. He growled, his upper lip lifting to bare his teeth. "No man."

"No man?" the boy repeated, his smile quickly turning to a frown. He grunted his affirmative, and the human sat in silence for a minute. He watched the subtle twitches and shifts of Deshi's expression as he digested the information, and when Deshi's eyes sought his again, he could tell there were many questions the boy didn't know how to voice.

He shook his head, growling a little more as he remembered the rage and despair of finding the leopards under his protection caught in snares and skinned, the rest of the beautiful cats mangled by the many scavengers of the forest. His hands trembled as he clenched them in his lap. He jumped a little when Deshi rested a hand atop his, giving him what he supposed was meant as an encouraging squeeze.

Deshi licked his lips and scooted closer. "Kaanan no man. Kaanan...?"

Ah, now they came to it. The way Deshi trailed off meant his true form was finally the question. He looked at Deshi, wondering if the boy had actually put some of the pieces together already. There were myths of beasts such as him, at least two in local lore that he could vaguely remember—snakes that were sacred to a local goddess and could shift to do her will, the king stag who protected all prey who took refuge in the sacred groves—but did Deshi know those myths? Perhaps Deshi's home had similar stories. He swallowed thickly, hesitating to admit his own identity. He couldn't trust just anyone, but the boy was stuck with him, dependent on him. He was tired of staying in human form so often; his skin itched to be allowed back into its furry state, and he hadn't relished a proper hunt in days.

It was selfish, but that decided it for him. He would tell Deshi if it meant being able to shift into his leopard form without Deshi going into another fit of hysterics. He leaned over, untangling his hand from Deshi's in order to grab a stick. He smoothed over a patch of dirt in front of them, and then drew his cat form. It was a simple drawing, probably far too simple, but it showed a four-legged creature with a tail. When he finished, he pointed with the stick. "Kaanan."

The scent of fear was unmistakable, but Deshi didn't scramble away from him or make one of those horribly shrill screaming sounds like when he saw him in feline form. Instead, Deshi's eyes merely darted back and forth between him and the little drawing. After a few seconds of silence, Deshi reached for the stick, and he gave it to Deshi without a fight. Deshi leaned over the drawing and poked the tip of the stick into the form over and over. It looked like he was giving the little figure spots, and Kaanan fought not to smile as Deshi looked up at him and rasped out, "Kaanan?"

He nodded, and Deshi stared at him before nearly bursting into what sounded like birdsong. Too many words all strung messily together in a quick twittering that nearly made him wish he hadn't given away his secret. "Deshi... Deshi! Wait!"

The order instantly made Deshi quiet like he'd wanted, but the wounded look on Deshi's face tugged at something in his chest, and he petted the boy's hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He held up another fig in apology, offering it to Deshi with a small smile. "Food. Kaanan home, Deshi home."

A smile graced Deshi's lips. It seemed his message had gotten across. Deshi was welcome here. He wouldn't let any harm come to Deshi while Deshi was under his protection. Deshi leaned into him as they resumed eating their figs, and he couldn't help but smile when Deshi tried to rub against his shoulder like a cat might. Yes, there was intelligence in Deshi's mind, even if some human habits needed to be relearned to respect the forest. A soft purr lilted from him, and he ate until his belly was full, promising himself that he would hunt that night for something more substantial.

***

He was sprawled out on a large rock near the lake it seemed they'd claimed as theirs. His tail thwapped gently against the stone, his eyes always on Deshi. The boy moved slowly through the shallows of the lake, staring into the clear water. When he'd come back from the morning hunt in his true form, Deshi hadn't batted an eyelash. The acceptance had warmed something inside him that hadn't been warmed in a very, very long time. It worried him. No human should mean as much to him as Deshi did. Still, the moment Deshi crowed, holding up a sleek, silvery fish in his hand, an intense wave of pride washed over him. The boy was learning.

Of course, Deshi had no idea how to handle the fish now that he'd caught it. It meant he needed to shift and become a man once more so he could demonstrate what needed to be done. He huffed softly, and then rose, padding toward Deshi. With a thought, four paws became two feet, and he stood behind Deshi, watching the boy bring a rock down on the fish's head. It was a quick blow, the life ended in the blink of an eye, and he was glad to see the lack of hesitation in Deshi's movements. The first time Deshi had caught a fish, the boy had balked at him until he'd growled, barked at him, and then Deshi had made a mess of the fish with his rock. This time, it was quick, efficient, and little of the fish would go to waste.

"Deshi."

Deshi turned, a little worry in his eyes. "Kaanan."

"Good." He smiled, the expression awkward on his lips, but the boy seemed to respond well to the non-aggressive baring of teeth. He pointed to the fish. "Deshi hunted fish."

"What now?" Deshi asked, holding up the fish.

He crouched in the shallow water and motioned for Deshi to do the same. "Clean. Make ready food." He offered Deshi a sharp stone from the ground and motioned along the fish's belly. "Cut. Take insides out."

He watched as Deshi obediently gutted the fish and followed his instructions to scrape off the scales and remove the bones. His language was still broken, but it seemed Deshi was bright enough to understand, even with his limited vocabulary. A purr rumbled up out of him by the time Deshi had skewered the pieces of fish and placed them over their fire. Deshi didn't need any help in tending the fire or positioning their food to cook, and it made pride bloom inside him. The boy was learning quickly.

Deshi took one of the pieces of fruit they had brought back to camp and sliced it. When Deshi offered him a piece, he didn't refuse, taking the bit of fruit and chewing happily. The sweetness of it was still strange to him, but it felt much more natural to enjoy the sweet in his human form than as a cat. All he hungered for as a cat was a good cut of raw meat.

One piece of the fruit led to another, and then another, but when he reached for the fourth, Deshi pulled it back before he could grasp it. He frowned and reached again, but Deshi chuckled and kept the slice of fruit just out of reach. "Open," Deshi ordered softly, pointing to his mouth.

His frown deepened, but he did as Deshi said, opening his mouth a little. Deshi placed the fruit past his lips himself. It was a little awkward, and he didn't understand the significance of such a ritual. The only time he had ever fed another was when his cubs were too young to feed themselves. He chuffed at Deshi. "Kaanan not weak like cub."

Deshi's cheeks turned a vibrant pink at that. "No. I see Kaanan," Deshi breathed, gesturing to help add meaning to his words. His name was spoken with Deshi's hands cupped outward at his forehead like feline ears. "Kaanan strong... smart... beautiful."

Each word was given a motion, but the last one made no sense to him. He tilted his head, trying to understand. "What beautiful?"

He watched Deshi's face flush up, and the scent of arousal pricked at his nose as Deshi motioned to different things around them. "Fire. Water. Sky. Kaanan beautiful."

It was a compliment, then, one that obviously meant something special to Deshi. And Deshi was saying it not only about his human form, but about his natural feline form. He couldn't help but purr at that, and when Deshi offered him another piece of fruit, and then bites of the fish from their roasting sticks, he allowed Deshi to place it into his mouth without a fuss. It was when Deshi's fingers were replaced by Deshi's lips that he finally tensed again, staring at his human companion.

Deshi pressed his fingers to his lips again. "Kiss."

"Kiss." He knew that caress of lips to lips. He'd had female mates in the past. There had even been two males in his long history of protecting this forest. None of them, though, had been part of a poacher's party. Deshi had come with the humans who had intended to take the skins of his brethren. He shifted, frowning. "Killer. Came with killers of the cat," he said. "Kill the beautiful."

Horror filled the boy's face. "No!" Deshi shook his head. "Killers bought me."

He frowned, growled. Bought? What did bought mean? "Tell Kaanan."

Deshi huffed. "Mother, Father, owed coin. They had no coin. They had me. Sold me to killers."

Bartering he could understand. Debt owed and coin scarce. He remembered a distant winter when he'd gone into a village for supplies he'd been desperate for. He'd needed to give something in order to receive the supplies. What Deshi was saying, though, meant that the boy's own parents had used Deshi as the coin to fulfill the debt owed. What debt was so great that parents would barter their own child to killers? "What debt?"

"Food."

A child for food? "Food?"

"Food. Village starving. Needed food. Traded food for me." Deshi tossed a stick into the fire. "Village had food then."

Food for child. Probably with a promise that the child would be well taken care of. He growled. "Deshi worth more than food."

Deshi flushed. "I am?"

He nodded. "Yes. Deshi smart. Quick." He looked Deshi over, trying to see him with an eye for pleasure. "Pretty."

"Pretty?" Deshi laughed, the sound pleased, amused. "Kaanan beautiful, Deshi pretty."

"Yes," he declared.

Deshi scooted closer to him again. "Kiss?"

He held Deshi's gaze, considering. Kiss often led to mating. Did Deshi want to mate? Was that what this was? "Kiss. Rut?"

"Rut?"

Ah, a new word. He sought a different word, but he knew no other, and so he drew in the dirt by the fire. It was a crude, simple image, but to the point. "Rut."

Deshi looked as if he'd spent too much time in the sun, his face was so red. The boy stared at picture, and then nodded once. "Kiss. Rut."

He purred. It wouldn't be terrible, and he was fond of Deshi. The boy was important to him now. He nodded. "Yes."

This time, when Deshi leaned close and sealed their lips together, he was prepared. It had been a very long time since he last kissed and rutted as a human, and even longer since he'd mated with another male, but he remembered well enough. Cupping Deshi's face with both hands, he pulled the boy closer and deepened the kiss, tasting the musky spice of him mixed with the jungle fruits that had been their morning meal. The flavor was a little strange, but appealing, and he purred when Deshi emitted a sound halfway between surprise and outright encouragement.

What he had said before about Deshi had been true. Deshi was pretty for a human, and the sounds that kept coming from the boy as they continued to kiss were also pretty, not feminine by any means, but still submissive enough to send a distinct tingle through his body. He let one hand wander down Deshi's body, and when he encountered the cloth covering Deshi's groin, he tugged at it until it gave way. Deshi wasn't very large in his palm, but he was hard, and that was more than enough for Kaanan.

With a needy growl, he picked Deshi up and, despite much unnecessary wiggling on Deshi's part, deposited him onto their makeshift bed. Deshi stared up at him with wide eyes, and he scented the slightest hint of fear amidst the human's potent arousal. He frowned. Why was there fear? He wasn't biting or clawing. To his mind, he was on his best behavior, so why did Deshi stare up at him like that? He chuffed when a thought occurred to him.

"Wait," he told Deshi before grabbing one of the packs they had looted off the dead poachers. It took a little rummaging, but he purred triumphantly when he found the flask of oil he had remembered seeing. The humans used it to clean their weapons, but it didn't smell bad, so it would do.

The boy was staring up at him with wide eyes, and lust mingled with fear in the air. Both made his body hungry for Deshi's, and he knelt between Deshi's legs once more. It was awkward, kissing while he oiled his fingers, but it seemed to ease the sense of worry in Deshi. If face to face and kissing were what the boy needed, he wasn't going to deny him. Within moments, he had wormed a finger inside Deshi's tight body. Very tight body, and the way Deshi was screwing up his face... He frowned, tilted his head, and stilled his finger's probing until Deshi opened his eyes. Deshi was covered in sweat, panting, flushed. He fought for a word to give Deshi, to clarify what he was pretty sure they both knew.

There. That word. "New?"

Deshi swallowed visibly and averted his eyes, but gave a nod. The boy hadn't ever been with another. Deshi was giving that to *him*. He slowly smiled and captured Deshi's lips in a sweeter, less savage kiss. It was a promise. He wouldn't just take and rut. This was special, even among his own kind. There weren't many of his kind left, guardians of these forests and jungles and the animals within them, but when they did meet, breed, if one was untouched, then care was taken to ensure the mating was gentle. He began to move his finger inside Deshi once more, gradually shifting in and out until he was filling Deshi with the full length of it.

The sounds the boy made! Between the soft, wet kisses and the unskilled fumbling of Deshi's hands on his body, the sounds offered up were sweet, submissive, and sparked the protective cat inside him. No one would harm Deshi. Deshi was his. If not forever, then for now, and if the boy ever went back among the idiotic humans, then he would remember the jungle cat that had possessed him for this little while.

One finger became two, and he left Deshi's lips for his nipples, licking and nipping at them until the boy cried out. Fingers dove into his hair, tugged, and he grinned against Deshi's flesh. Muscles clung to his fingers, teased his senses. The heat of Deshi's body pulled at him, made him want to be restless, but the little whimpers of pained need forced him to remain slow in his foreplay. It was a reminder to him of how important connection was, how lonely he'd been before he'd found Deshi. The boy wasn't like the poachers, wasn't like other humans at all, and he stared down into the young face twisted with pleasure in awe. He might not understand most words out of Deshi's mouth, or Deshi understand his, but they'd come this far. Deshi knew his true form and still kissed him. Still wanted him.

Deshi's body gave way ever so slightly around his fingers, and he took that as a sign that Deshi was ready, or at least as ready as one could be the first time. He knew it wouldn't be easy for Deshi, that it wouldn't be comfortable, but there was little more he could do to prepare Deshi for their joining. A rumble of a purr escaped him as he licked his way back up to Deshi's lips. He shifted until the tip of his sex nudged at Deshi's entrance, and he drizzled a little more oil into his palm to slick himself liberally with a low moan. Deshi looked up at him, and the boy's hands tightened in his hair and at his shoulder as he eased forward.

He watched as pain and shock moved over Deshi's face, and the whimpering cry that came from the boy's throat was one of the most beautiful things he'd heard in so long. There were countless birds and beasts in the jungle, and each had its song to the creators, a special sound it made in moments like these. The sound of innocence being lost was a sacred thing, something he would hold close and cherish, even if Deshi never knew.

His first thrust forward was slow, gentle. Even though the pressure was exquisite around him and all he wanted was to bury himself in a single snap of his hips, he kept a tight hold on his control. He refused to move too quickly as Deshi cried out and clung to him with trembling hands. "Wait," he breathed against Deshi's lips, keeping their eyes locked. It was his only advice, the only word he could think to say. Wait for it to get better. Wait for Deshi's body to adjust. It would only take a minute or two for most of the pain to subside. "Wait."

A soft, pained sound fluttered against his lips, but he felt Deshi nod, and he smiled as he offered the boy another kiss. It was *something* he could do to distract from the pain as he rested against Deshi's body, joined with him as deeply as possible. Deshi was hot, tight around him—so very tight—and it took all his willpower to stay there for another minute, tasting the need on Deshi's lips. When he shifted, made that first true thrust, Deshi gasped against him, and he growled possessively. Deshi was *his*, and he would make this first time count, make it a memory that would see them both through the future, even if that future pulled them apart.

He set a slow, rocking rhythm. No matter how hard he tried to be gentle, he knew a bit of pain was inevitable, but the sounds that came from Deshi slowly changed. The pain he could hear went from bright to muted, and then it mixed with something deeper, something more desperate. The boy's nails dug into him, but instead of weakly pushing him away, Deshi yanked him closer, into a kiss more passionate than the others had been.

He growled low in his throat, and Deshi shuddered under him. They didn't need words. Sounds, scents, and heated glances told him far more than any new word could. Deshi whimpered when he shifted their position a little, and then the boy cried out with the next thrust. He couldn't help but grin ferally into the next kiss.

In the humid warmth of the jungle floor, he took Deshi, pleasure and possession dancing through his senses. Everything else fell away. His world narrowed to the sweet moans and thick musk they created together. He tried to draw it out, but the gripping tightness of Deshi's body worked against him. The fire of release rolled through him, gaining strength the longer he rocked into the boy. Deshi was firm against his belly, and he gathered his wits long enough to snarl, reach between them, and take Deshi's cock in his hand.

Deshi arched, shouted, and clawed his nails down his back. The potent scent of seed filled the air, twined with pleasure and pain within him, and the sheer joy the boy took in the coupling shoved him over the gaping precipice. He came with a roar, his hands gripping with bruising force at Deshi's hips. After a moment of bright tension, he collapsed against the boy, panting, his head still spinning. He didn't know if it was the heat of the forest or the lingering ecstasy from the rutting, but he didn't care. He felt wonderful. Deshi's fingers began to comb through his hair, and he couldn't keep his purr quiet.

He lifted his head after a moment and licked from Deshi's collarbone, up his throat, to his lips. The silly smile on the boy's face caused something to tighten in his gut. He purred a little louder and licked over Deshi's lips. "Deshi well?" he asked, the words trilling with his purr.

The flush gracing Deshi's cheeks darkened just a little. "Yes, I'm well."

"Good."

He wrapped his arms around Deshi as he pulled his softening cock from him. After pulling Deshi against him, he nuzzled his ear. Sleep clawed at him. The heat, his full belly, and their spent passions conspired against him and demanded a mid-afternoon nap. Since Deshi seemed to be in the same boat, he decided not to fight it. He'd hunt when they woke up, and he easily fell into dreams of running through the forest on four legs with Deshi at his side.

***

The scent of the forest had changed. It was a subtle thing he might not have noticed if he had spent all his time as a human. Luckily, with Deshi so receptive to his feline form, he had been hunting each day as a cat, only shifting into a man when Deshi desired a little conversation or rutting. They had fallen into a routine that allowed him more time as a cat. This seemed to be yet another reason to be grateful for Deshi's understanding. As he stalked through the undergrowth and brush of the forest, he sniffed the air again. It was slight, but as a breeze moved hotly through the semi-darkness of the jungle beneath the canopy, he caught a whiff of it.

Humans. Oh, he couldn't smell *them* yet—not from this distance—but he knew the changes that signaled humans approaching. From the odd birdsong above him to the scents of other animals changing their marking and hunting patterns. Beasts only changed those habits when new, powerful hunters were suddenly introduced to the area, and there was no predator more dangerous than the human.

He spared a thought for Deshi before deciding to track the humans. If there were more poachers approaching, it was best he take care of them himself so Deshi wouldn't be bothered. Close enough to cause the changes around him was closer than he liked to the den he'd made with Deshi by the lake. With Deshi out gathering more figs, he knew exactly where the boy would be for the next few hours. That comforted him, enabled him to hunt the poachers without the distraction of worry.

They weren't difficult to find. Tracking the changing scent to its source only took patience, and he had that in abundance. His ears and tail twitched when he scented the distinct musk of them, followed closely by the first sounds of human voices. The voices were joined by the sound of metal impacting the ferns and trees. The humans had weapons, then. Large ones, from the metallic clangs that raked over his ears. He growled low in his throat as he sat and waited downwind, shifting only to track their path.

It was perhaps another hour before they did as he feared they would, moving along the same path the poachers had taken into his territory. He would have frowned if his feline face were capable of the expression. Why were they following that path so closely? It was almost as if they weren't tracking prey at all, and that was odd for poachers, odd enough for him to creep closer for a better look at the party.

He was careful, remaining downwind as he silently aligned his path with theirs, glimpsing them through the trees and vines. His eyes narrowed as he took in the appearance of the group. They were clothed appropriately for the forest, but weren't armed to the teeth like poachers. They had devices he had never seen before, and they didn't reek of blood and anger. If they had hunted, they had done so carefully, or infrequently enough, for it to have been only for food.

It took him a minute to identify what he was looking at, but the realization finally hit him like a blow to his sensitive belly. This was a searching party. They were probably looking for the poachers' remains, perhaps even looking for Deshi. His tail drooped a bit at that thought, and he felt a pit begin to form in his gut. If they were looking for the boy, then the kind thing to do would be lead them to him. Deshi might have begun learning to take care of himself, but the deep wilds of the jungle were not Deshi's home. This was *his* home, *his* world, and the boy had just fallen into it with those poachers. This was Deshi's chance to return to his own world, maybe even to his family now that he was free of the poachers.

The thought of losing Deshi nearly stopped him in his tracks, nearly sent him running away from the party of humans, but he couldn't just leave the humans to wander. They would find nothing, and eventually give up and return wherever they came from, but could he live with himself if he forced Deshi to stay? Could he live with himself if he selfishly kept the knowledge of this search party to himself?

He deftly moved through the jungle again, this time, he intentionally made noise. It took the idiot humans several minutes to catch the sounds, to begin following his trail. They would call out after every noise he made, but he kept leading them along. Any other beast would know it was being led, but not the humans. They believed themselves to be the top of the food chain. If they'd seen what he'd left of the poachers, maybe they'd be a little more wary of sounds in the jungle. For now, their arrogance served his purpose, and he made sure his tail and paws left markers behind for the humans to follow.

The closer he drew to the copse of fig trees, where Deshi's scent was strongest to his nose, the doubt began to claw at him. Did he truly want to give the boy up? Deshi was his, wasn't he? He'd taken the boy in, ensured he'd survived, even taught him about the food and forest itself here. Yes, should Deshi return with the humans, his life would return to the pattern it had, protecting the leopards as a leopard once more, but... was it enough anymore? He loved the leopards, loved the jungle, but Deshi... did he also love Deshi?

It didn't matter. The jungle wasn't the boy's place. Deshi should be with his own kind, thriving with a wife and children, working fields and growing old in the safety of a village. The forest was unsafe, and he needed to protect the leopards; Deshi made it difficult for him to think of anything other than Deshi. He growled softly the minute the boy came into sight, and the smile Deshi offered him—his arms full of ripe figs—nearly broke his heart. The humans weren't far behind, and he had to make sure they found the boy.

"Kaanan!" Deshi rushed to him. "Figs all over."

He chuffed and looked over his shoulder as he heard another shout from the humans. The boy's head snapped up, his brow furrowed as he looked out into the jungle.

"Kaanan?" Deshi asked, dark brown eyes darting to him.

He couldn't explain, but padded around Deshi and gave him a hard nudge with his head.

"Humans." The boy turned around. "Humans coming!"

He chuffed again and nodded as best he could. Yes, humans were coming. They were coming for Deshi. The boy glared at him, and he decided staying as a leopard wouldn't help explain to Deshi. He willed the body of the cat away, replacing it with the body of a man, and then he opened his eyes and stared at Deshi. "Go with humans."

Deshi's eyes widened, the almond shape of them disappearing with how much white showed around the expressive, dark depths. "No!" Deshi gasped, dropping all the figs to the forest floor and gripping him tightly by the forearms.

Kaanan frowned at him. Why was Deshi panicking? "Deshi go with humans. Home with humans."

Deshi's grip on him tightened, and Deshi shook him, actually *shook* him. The boy's voice was soft, though, hushed as if he were afraid speaking would alert the approaching search party. "No! Home not with humans. Send them away, Kaanan!"

Send them away? After leading them all the way here, Deshi wanted him to lead them away again? He growled in his confusion, glancing behind Deshi at the trees that still stood between them and the humans. "Deshi not want humans?"

"No, I don't want the humans. I don't want to go!" Deshi released him, but the boy stepped in half a dozen directions, obviously unsure what to do or where to run.

It made no sense, but he knew they had to act quickly. He gripped Deshi's shoulder tightly enough to make him stop moving about like a bug stuck in a spider's web. "Tree. Climb. Now."

"Kaanan..."

"Go!" Kaanan hissed, pushing Deshi toward a suitable tree and scattering the gathered figs so they weren't such an obvious marker. He followed Deshi up the tree and motioned for Deshi to climb higher, supporting the boy when he hesitated to go higher. He hugged Deshi against the trunk of the tree when he heard the humans break through the tree line of the more wild forest surrounding the fig trees. They were high enough for the branches and foliage to mask them, but Deshi's skin was so pale that he did his best to cover the boy's limbs with his own, just in case the humans happened to look up.

He could feel Deshi's heart pounding, could scent the fear on him. The boy began to open his mouth to speak, but he pressed his finger to Deshi's lips, simply whispering into Deshi's ear. "Safe. Wait."

Below, the humans milled around. He couldn't understand their words. The language was fast, trilling to his ears. They looked up into the canopy, but only briefly, and then they were moving on. The humans turned from the direction of the home he'd made with the boy, wandered deeper into the forest. He waited until his muscles ached and sweat dripped down his back, and then he began to shimmy down. He tugged at Deshi, encouraged him to follow. Once they were on the ground once more, he pointed toward their home. "Go. Wait."

"Kaanan!" Deshi hissed. "Talk."

"Go. I will follow humans. Keep them away." It was so strange using that singular word, but he understood it now. "Go. Wait."

Deshi glared at him once more, and then turned toward their camp, ran through the brush. With a thought, he shifted from man to cat and, on four paws, ran after the humans. He snarled, growled, circled them, frightened them. The humans shot their rifles, shouted in their odd language, but he was faster than they were. He chased them, drove them far from the home he'd made with the boy. If Deshi wanted to stay, if he and this forest were now Deshi's home, then he would ensure no one came close enough to threaten them.

It was almost nightfall when he padded from the tree line to the soft, sandy land their home was built upon. The boy had already started a fire, and the scent of cooking fish flesh tickled his nose. He growled, and Deshi's head snapped up from watching the fish on the fire. The boy's cheeks were damp, and it broke his heart that he'd made Deshi cry. He padded over and nosed Deshi, licked at salty cheeks.

"Kaanan." Deshi stroked his fingers through his fur. "You would have sent me away." Desperation tinged the boy's voice, and he licked at Deshi's face again. "Do you not love me anymore?"

Love? Love. He loved the leopards. He loved the jungle. He *loved* Deshi! He chuffed, stepped back, and shifted from leopard to man. "Deshi," he said, voice gruff, thick with emotion. "I... love Deshi."

"Then why send me from our home?" Deshi demanded, giving his chest a weak shove. "Why bring humans to our home?"

He frowned. How could he explain it all to Deshi in words Deshi would understand? "Deshi human. Deshi home always with humans. Lost in Kaanan's home. I hear humans; I think humans help you. Be Deshi's home again."

Deshi sniffled and shook his head. "Deshi's home not with humans. Deshi's home with Kaanan. With *you*. I want my home to be with you!"

Heat moved through Kaanan, settling in his chest and belly. He tightened his grip around Deshi, not letting Deshi's weak protests succeed in separating them. Why did Deshi say he wanted to be close, but then push him away? It didn't make any sense to him. What made sense was the love he felt, that warmth and desire to keep Deshi safe and close to him. He tried to think of the correct words, form them in his head before speaking them carefully. "I... want Deshi—" He paused for a moment, trying to use the words Deshi was teaching him. "I want you... to stay."

Deshi stopped struggling against him, and he leaned in to lick away a couple more tears as they fell down Deshi's cheeks. "I stay, you teach, and I learn?" Deshi asked, his voice soft. When he leaned in close to sniff along Deshi's skin, he smelled that sweet fear again, the kind that was softer than survival. It was more like hope. Deshi was hoping for his answer.

He purred as he smiled, brushing Deshi's hair back from his face. "Yes. Deshi stay and learn." He liked that thought. "I protect you."

"No bringing humans back," Deshi said, leaning into his touch.

"No more humans," he promised in return. Deshi smiled faintly. The boy brought a hand up to stroke along his chest, and his eyes closed for a moment. "Deshi help protect cats."

Deshi's smile broadened. "Yes. Protect Kaanan, cats, and jungle."

It was a sweet promise, one he knew Deshi could hardly keep. The boy was perhaps a hundred pounds soaking wet. But that Deshi *wanted* to... that was worth everything to him. He took Deshi's mouth in one of those hungry kisses the boy liked so much, and he pulled their bodies together. Deshi fit in his arms as if he'd been made for him, and he couldn't help but deepen the kiss. Soft sounds of want filled the kiss as Deshi moved against him, and he quickly bore Deshi to the ground.

With a swipe of his large hand, the cloths they used to cover themselves were cast aside. He let his weight settle against the boy, and he thrust, rubbing their bodies together as he devoured every little whimper and cry Deshi offered him. It was base and hungry, careless and thoughtless, and he would have simply turned Deshi onto his belly and taken him if Deshi hadn't stopped him in the middle of doing just that.

"Wait!" Deshi panted. He frowned as he watched Deshi crawl to their shelter, motioning for him to follow. He growled, stalking into the simple hut, and Deshi waited, holding up the small clay pot of oil they'd been adding to each time he'd found some coconuts. "I don't want to hurt," the boy murmured, kneeling on the pad of grasses they used for a bed.

He growled and chuffed, joining Deshi on their mat. He took the jar from Deshi. "Kaanan will not hurt you," he swore before drawing Deshi into another heated kiss.

Deshi melted against him, slowly crawling back into his lap. It was like the boy accepted his promises without a moment's hesitation. To be given such faith, such utter trust and submission, was one of the most powerful aphrodisiacs he'd ever experienced. He wouldn't betray that trust. Deshi was his, and he would take care of the boy, tonight and always, be it lovemaking or teaching Deshi to hunt and gather.

He wrapped an arm around Deshi and dipped the fingers of his other hand into the small pool of oil in the pot. He curled his tongue around Deshi's, nipped his lower lip, and reveled in the soft, desperate sounds Deshi gave in return when he brought his fingers to the boy's hole. He pushed two fingers inside without too much trouble and made swift work of spreading the oil, adding a bit more to his fingers before pressing a third digit inside Deshi as well. The foreplay was delightful, and the way the boy moved against him was almost sinful.

"Kaanan," Deshi whimpered, burying his face against his neck. He purred, nuzzling and nipping at Deshi's earlobe to try to distract from the momentary discomfort. They so rarely needed words in moments like these, and he liked it that way. It allowed scent and touch and taste to become just as important, and he could feel when Deshi began to open to him, relax into the gentle thrusts of his fingers.

It was when Deshi's hand snaked between them and stroked him lightly that he groaned. A low, possessive growl escaped him as he nudged the pot of oil toward Deshi. The boy needed no more instruction after that, oiling a small hand. Deshi's grip was blissfully slick after that, and he shuddered, shifting up into Deshi's hand. He could easily have spent himself just like that, but as his need became more acute, he pulled Deshi closer and positioned himself, unwilling to wait any longer.

Deshi sat back onto him with a cry, and he stared up at the boy, the line of his neck, the arch of his beautiful body as they joined. If there was pain for Deshi, it must have been lost under the rush of pleasure for the boy to make such sounds. He arched his own neck, nipping his way up Deshi's throat and jaw until their lips closed in another consuming kiss.

With the slightest encouragement of his hands, Deshi began to move against him. The boy rocked in his lap, and the movement brought a growl rumbling up out of him. Every sound he made was devoured by Deshi's eager lips. As Deshi adjusted to him, the rocking turned into bouncing, and kissing became impossible as Deshi moaned and moved on him.

Despite the boy's eagerness, he grew frustrated. The cat within him wanted to *take*, to lay claim to its mate, and with Deshi astride him, it was impossible to fulfill that need. He snarled, bit at Deshi's throat, and then rolled their bodies. In the blink of an eye, Deshi was sprawled across their sleeping mat, and he was buried balls-deep inside the boy's squirming body. Deshi's cry echoed in his ears, and he licked at the indention left by his teeth. He gave them both just a moment to gain their bearings, and then he let the cat have sway.

His hips were powerful, his thrusts hard and fast, and his mouth left several bright marks behind on Deshi's throat. Deshi was wanton beneath him, nails scratching down his back, urging him onward. The scent of sweat, musk, and coconut filled his nose. Teeth and tongues, nails and the squeeze of thighs, everything compounded to drive him mad with need. The boy's shouts and whines did nothing to help him bite back the oncoming storm of pleasure building within him. He took Deshi's mouth in another searing kiss, and he felt the boy's hand worm between their bodies. He opened his eyes, gazed down at Deshi's flushed, damp face, and when he saw his own pleasure mirrored in those dark eyes, he let himself go.

He collapsed against Deshi, his yowl of completion fading in his own ears, and Deshi's body was still quivering around him. His flesh was sensitive, and he whined, licking at Deshi's lips as they came down from the high of release together. The scent of their come mingled in the air, and the smug satisfaction he felt in that moment couldn't be topped by anything else. He began to purr, and Deshi's fingers combed through his hair, caressed his sweaty brow and cheeks. He grinned down at the boy, all teeth and pride, and Deshi laughed breathlessly up at him.

"I love you," Deshi said.

He chuffed and nipped the inside of Deshi's wrist. "I love you."

They may not have had many words to express themselves yet, but those three were the most important. They were understood without any explanation, without any need for fumbling, and they were the ones that bound them together more tightly than any others. They loved their jungle. They loved their cats. They loved each other. Together, they'd defend the leopards against the poachers, and as he settled beside Deshi, held him close in his arms, he couldn't think of a better path to walk.