Chapter 62: Failure (1)
[Music Recommendation: Mountain Oath by The Last Retinue]
Atia dropped their kill, muzzle dripping with blood as he looked up, his senses prickling with sudden unease. His gaze flicked to Aiyana inching forward, camouflaged in the bushes, playfully stalking Atia after he took her prey. She’d started to wiggle her backside, intent on pouncing on him, and then froze. As alluring as Aiyana was, especially when she was in this mood and not one where she would usually attack him for his crime of taking her thunder, he couldn’t drop the distinct feeling that something bad had just happened.
Aiyana shifted then, bones cracking, fur retracting and body transforming rapidly within a few seconds. She remained crouched, the vibrant green leaves keeping only a fraction of her concealed now. "Did you hear that?" Aiyana breathed out, eyes wide, glowing as she searched the canopy, panicked.
Atia transformed as well, tilting his ear. The forest was quiet, sounding emptied. It was unsettling, and now that the song of the hunt wasn’t pumping through his veins, unease settled into his gut, warning him of the nearby danger. Danger. His breath hitched. Nova. His gaze snapped back to the spot he’d left her.
Aiyana dashed by him, the leaves whipping his features from her force. She’d already come up with the same conclusion and leapt into the trees, swinging from vines until she landed on the thick branch Nova had been sitting on.
"So help me, mother of Isla, I’ll wring your neck if this is a joke," Aiyana threatened the stillness of the tree. Nova’s scent still lingered, and the spot she’d been sitting on was still relatively warm.
Aiyana’s gaze roamed her surroundings with feline finesse. Atia landed beside her, not quite as elegant or silent, but he aimed for speed rather than stealth as the hairs on the back of his neck rose to his disquiet. Aiyana followed her gut as Atia smelled the air beside her. They paused at the new scent coiling around Nova’s.
"That entitled chicken wing," Aiyana snarled. "Do you smell that?"
A low growl ripped from Atia’s throat, eyes glowing as he, too, smelt Vulcan. As one, Atia and Aiyana leapt off the branch, shifting mid-air into their jaguar forms and set off at a sprint, weaving in and out of trees and bushes, leaping over uplifted roots and rocks. Neither of them needed to speak. Years of hunting and sleeping almost under the same roof together led them to have silent conversations, understanding each other without the need for words.