Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 141532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Ania could see the leopards had fought together before. Their movements were coordinated. Deliberately, she urged Jewel to call out, a mating call, a female in need, calling for mates. Jewel did so immediately, her call genuine and a little desperate.
Nature was nature no matter how their human counterparts tried to stamp it out of them. The males all turned their heads toward that call. Dymka took full advantage, raking over the eyes of the scarred one, gouging with razor-sharp claws so that the animal shrieked in pain and tried to leap away, blood pouring from his eyes. Dymka followed the bloody cat, unwilling to let go of an advantage, while the dark-tipped one leapt to bring him down.
Ania, inside Jewel’s body, cried out, which made Jewel do the same. The female’s voice sang through the night, a symphony of need, calling to her mate. Both Ania and Jewel watched in horror as the dark-tipped leopard landed hard on Dymka’s back, his claws digging deep, his teeth viciously going for the back of the neck. Dymka rolled at the last possible second, twisting his flexible spine so that he appeared almost folded in half. Most of his body weight was sheer muscle, thick ropes and bands all over his body. As the big male rolled under the dark-tipped cat, he used his claws and teeth to rake at the leopard’s belly, opening more lacerations.
The third cat, his coat redder than the others, looked away from the fighting, sniffed the air several times, suddenly whirled around and began running toward Jewel’s tree. Ania couldn’t quiet her heartbeat for a few seconds. Both Ania and Jewel nearly fell from the tree in terror. The cat looked invincible as it ran toward them.
The wind had picked up and blew at them, carrying small droplets of water with it. Fingers of mist began to creep across the valley into the hills, moving slowly, looking like a giant hand waiting to enclose them. Jewel turned her head to look from the oncoming red cat to Dymka. The cat with the bloody eyes was running in circles, indicating, she was certain, that he had lost his eyesight. It was the dark-tipped cat that was fighting with Dymka now, and he was clearly good at battles. The two cats came together in what was clearly a fight to the death. The two combatants slashed at each other, looking for an opening.
Dymka circled, keeping his movements tight, making certain he wasn’t giving the other cat any openings, nor was he going to allow himself to be pushed back toward the bloody, sightless leopard he couldn’t forget for a moment was still dangerous.
He recognized all three cats. The one he’d blinded was a man called Taras, a lieutenant of his father. He was a particularly mean man, very ugly in both his looks and his actions. He liked hurting others, and often had his cat chase, kill and eat young children. Taras’s cat had chased him repeatedly, once leaping from a building out of hiding, slamming into Mitya’s back, driving him to the ground. Mitya still bore the scars on his back from the leopard raking his skin open, almost to the bone. As a child, he’d lived in fear of Taras, as did most of the children in the lair. Lazar had allowed his behavior to go unchecked.
The reddish-colored leopard was a man everyone despised, including Lazar, but the vor kept him around because his reputation with women terrorized the lair and amused him. He was named Albert, and no female, whatever the age, was safe from him. He didn’t care where he was, or where the woman or child was, he would do whatever he wanted with them. Sometimes he simply raped them, but more often than not, he tortured them sexually first. No one dared interfere with him. He liked to hurt others, and small females were his first choice of target.
The dark-tipped leopard was one of Lazar’s most trusted men. Kronya had often “disciplined” Mitya, beating him and then having his leopard rip Dymka to pieces at Lazar’s whim. Kronya was used to leaping on the younger males at Lazar’s direction and beating them. The trouble was, as he enjoyed his role just a little too much and too often, the boy was so damaged after the beating that Lazar would simply indicate to his right-hand man to finish it with a kill, or they left the child there, dying slowly, his insides crushed by the vicious pressure. Often Mitya had been on the receiving end of Kronya’s punishments. The man had taken great pleasure in hurting him, taking it that little bit too far on accident, so that Mitya had been one of those children lying broken and bloody on the floor.
Kronya reached out to him now. Mitya. Your father isn’t here to save you this time.