𝘿𝙀𝙑𝙊𝙐𝙍 | 𝙈𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙡 𝙊'𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙖

5| 𝘚𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘺

𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜:

𝘌𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘢𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘴, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩.
✨𝘔𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘦✨

The breeze that dries the sweat on your brows bears his scent as it wafts by, your grip on the bough you are perched on tightens as you lean forward and take another deep sniff. Your senses filter through the layers of floral and animal scents, hunting for his musk. It beguiles you like a doe sprinting through the underbrush, but you are persistent with following the trail he had left. Another deep inhale and you lock onto his scent. String fibers of silk shoot out from your wrists and you leap off the tree, catapulting yourself through the canopy.

You know he had run off to hunt something but he didn't exactly tell you what before he left that morning. Your eyes flit over the scarlet horizon and the blinding golden disc of the setting sun as you lay suspended over the treetops mid-swing.

It’s getting late and Miguel still hasn't returned.

Scenarios, each one bleaker than the one that preceded it kept flashing across your mind. Your claws shred bark as you slide down tree trunks, the pads of your toes sting with the weight of your body as they feel the elastic tension in the branches they spring off of. Your heart is a sparrow trapped within your heaving chest, each breath sets your windpipe on fire.

Your hands part the ferns covering a path leading to a clearing you knew very well. You and Miguel had cornered a wild bull here a few days ago before you had taken it down. Your fingertips graze over the marks his talons had left on the trees, they smelled recent enough.

Where was he? You could feel the panic bubbling within your chest choking you. You attempt to calm yourself by inhaling through your mouth but that makes you drag your talons down the side of a tree trunk. You wished he could've told you something before he ran off.

The crack of a twig being tread upon makes your head snap in that direction. You drop down into the clearing, the leaves of the shrubs feeling cool against your overheated skin as you slink through the shadows.

His scent hits your nose, your head jerks to the left.

There he stands in the clearing before you, panting from the excitement of the hunt, his back bowed from the weight of the dead cougar draped over his broad shoulders. He blinks at you through the strands plastered over his eyes with sweat.

"Arañita?" he whispers softly. Your breath hitches in your throat when you see the dried blood crusted over the gashes on his chest. He lumbers towards you, his fatigued muscles adding a sway to his step.

You leap over a rotting log, your arms wrapping around his waist and shoulders to steady him. Your soles dig into the ground as you use your body to prop him up. He grunts as he melts into your embrace, his nose dipping into the nook of your shoulder seeking out your pulse, his cheeks soaking in the warmth of your neck. You hum in response, burying your face into him in gentle reassurance. You could smell the cougar and the glade he was coming from in his sweat.

You gently slip the dead cougar off his shoulders and sit him down on the grass. Your fingers brush his brown hair out of his face, your thumb swiping the blood off his chin and lips. He smiles a little wistfully and presses your hand to the side of his face as he tilts his head into your palm.

You growl at him a little. "Please don't tell me you came all the way here to hunt a cougar, Apex."

Miguel chuckles. You see your face reflected in his dilated pupils, his eyes holding yours in a soft gaze instead of the hostile territorial glare from months ago.