I try to run to Collins’s aid, but I can’t complete a single step before falling to my knees. I have yet to catch my breath. The best I can do is plead with the animal. I suck in a loud breath and manage a whisper. “Stop.”
The creature rains down blow after blow, using fists. She has fingers, I realize, not paws, though I’m fairly certain she has claws, and I’m glad she’s not using them. Collins is doing a decent job fending off the punches, but she’d be shredded by claws. The cat-woman is tempering her attack. Given her strength, I’d say she’s pulling her punches, too. Still, too much more of this and Collins will be in real trouble.
Remembering I’m carrying an actual gun with real bullets, I reach to my hip and draw the weapon. My arm shakes as I take another deep breath. Not wanting to kill the creature, or Collins by accident, I speak again, this time finding enough strength to shout. “Stop!”
I don’t really expect the cat-woman to respond. But she does. She stops—and glances back at me, her eyes full of anger, distrust...and understanding.
My aim falters. “Oh my God, you know what I’m saying?”
The woman’s feline eyes squint at me. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
2
In that moment of distraction, when the creature’s eyes lock on mine, Collins pistons her knees up into the cat-woman’s backside—which, I might add, is also quite human and feminine. She’d be attractive, if not for the long tail. Sure, she’s also covered in black hair, but the shiny coat clings to her like spandex. Caught off guard, the cat-woman is pushed forward. Collins uses the momentum, heaving her arms up against her attacker’s chest. The creature is flipped off over Collins’s head, but like a true cat, the cat-woman lands on her feet and is ready for action before Collins can even get up fully.
The cat-woman’s legs coil. She’s about to pounce on Collins’s back. And this time she’s got her claws out.
“I’ll shoot,” I say loudly, aiming at the fully exposed creature. I won’t miss, no matter how fast she moves. Not at this range. “I know you can understand me.”
The cat-woman turns her yellow eyes from Collins to me, squinting like a miffed teenager. In fact, now that I’m looking at her face again, she looks fairly young in human terms. Maybe twenty. But I have no real way of evaluating her age. “I don’t want to kill you,” I add. “But if you attack her again, I won’t hesitate.”
The cat-woman’s face scrunches with frustration. “Yyyyou attacked us first!”
God, she sounds young, too.
“We didn’t attack anyone.” My defense sounds childish as I say it, but it’s the truth.
“Yes, you did!” she shouts, our conversation devolving toward ‘Uh-uh!’ and ‘Ya-huh!’ But then she clarifies. “You pointed your rifle at my girls.”
Girls?
Her girls.
“Holy shit.” I glance toward the brush where we saw the small black creature. “They’re your children?”
She snarls, bearing white, pointed teeth.
“I didn’t know,” I say.
She looks ready to pounce. “Too late.”
“For what?”
“You’ve seen them,” she says. “I can’t let you leave.”
The threat makes me realize I’ve lowered my aim some. I bring the barrel back up, sighting her chest. I really don’t want to kill this creature. She’s amazing. I just need her to—
The growl building in the cat-woman’s chest focuses me. I slide my index finger over the trigger.
“Wait!” a distant voice shouts from behind me. It’s masculine and very human. I watch Collins’s eyes for signs of surprise or danger, but she just looks confused. Whoever is approaching is human and unarmed. “Don’t shoot!”
I can hear the crunch of running feet on the ground, crushing twigs, leaves and pebbles with each hurried step.
The cat-woman seems to relax as the newcomer gets closer. The growl fades. Her muscles loosen. She’s no longer about to pounce. But I don’t lower my aim. Can’t take the chance. In part because I know the woman is still dangerous, despite her changed body language. And I have no idea who this guy is.
The man rushes past, heading straight for the cat-woman. He carries himself in a comfortable, fearless way, how a father might approach a child. “Lilly,” he says, his tone harsh, but concerned, “What are you doing?”
Lilly? Seriously? The cat-woman’s name is Lilly?
“They were going to shoot the girls.”
The man stiffens. I don’t see a weapon, but he now has an air of danger about him.
“First,” I say, still hoping to avoid a confrontation, “one rifle is a tranq gun. The other fires a tracking dart. Our job is not to kill...people...or whatever. Second, we never really saw your children. We thought they were skunks. And if you must know the truth, you got too close. If you hadn’t been stalking us, we’d have never drawn our weapons.”
The newcomer sighs and gives a shake of his head.
“I was just watching them,” Lilly grumbles.
“You know that’s against the rules,” the man says.
“I just—”