Wild Rain (Leopard People 1)

"You always tell me I'm beautiful. Men aren't supposed to be beautiful."

"Maybe you aren't supposed to be, but you are. I've never been around a man like you before." Her fingertips traced the lines in his face, smoothed over his mouth. She looked into his eyes, and smiled. "It isn't just your body that's so perfect, Rio, you're such a good man."

How could a woman tear a man up with a few simple words? Maybe it was the honesty in her expression, the love in her eyes. "Rachael." Her name came out in a husky whisper. He couldn't control his own voice.

The radio crackled to life. The sound of gunfire could be heard in short bursts. Someone screamed. Pandemonium rang out. "Joshua's hit. Conner's trying to cover Drake and the vics. Damn it. Damn it." More static.

Rachael was watching Rio's face carefully. His expression disappeared and he wore a grim mask. "How far away are they? How many miles away?"

He looked down at her, blinked, kissed her mouth hard and turned to catch up his rifle. Rachael handed him the two knives lying side by side on the counter.

"Rachael." He hesitated at the door, radio in hand.

"Just go. Hurry. It's what you do. I'll be fine here with Fritz."

Rio turned and was gone. She didn't hear him on the verandah. She didn't hear anything at all. He was as silent in human form as he was in the form of a cat. Rachael limped over to the small counter. Fritz stuck his head out from under the bed to watch her. She smiled at the little leopard. "I may as well see how all this works."

Rio could hear Rachael murmuring softly to the cat. He shrugged into the harnesses and positioned the weapons for easy access before leaping to the next tree branch. He used creeper vines to swing to some of the closer branches, and hit the forest floor running. He ran through streams and small creek beds, pulled himself up the embankments using the vines and once more took to the trees.

"Coming in from the south," he reported into the radio.

"Go for Joshua, he's running hurt, leaving a trail. Conner's guarding the vics. Team is spreading out to leave tracks." Drake's voice came in a stream of static and heavy breathing.

"I'll intercept. Who's on Josh?"

"He's on his own. Hurry, Rio."

"Tell him to come to me. I'll meet him."

They kept the transmissions brief and spoke in their own dialect, which would be nearly impossible for anyone overhearing to translate. Only members of their species spoke the guttural mixture of tones and words. It was one of their greatest strengths when working.

Rio covered several miles in record time, using Drake's short bursts of static for direction. He had to get to Joshua before Tomas or one of his men did. Joshua was in trouble, wounded and on his own. The other team members were needed to bring out the many victims and get them to safety.

He heard the sound of a gunshot echoing through the trees. White mist shrouded the canopy as he flung himself through the branches. He was forced to slow down to cross the river, using a precarious route, two low-hanging branches and a creeper vine. He nearly lost his footing, leapt to the next tree, his hands shifting to claws to cling to the bark. The trunk was wide with a multitude of plants growing up it, covering the bark. The branches raised toward the sky, seeking light, but the heavy foliage from the taller trees around it blocked it from the precious source causing the tree's limbs to curl and the leaves to feather. He flattened himself against the trunk, hooked claws clinging precariously as two bandits consulted in loud whispers beneath him.

The two men were out of breath having run ahead of the melee in the hopes of setting up an ambush. They consulted in their native tongue, gesturing wildly, all the while staring back toward the sounds of gunfire.

Rio's breath hissed out slowly as he felt for the closest branch with his foot. He willed them not to look up. As high up as he was, the wind fingered his face, but below, on the forest floor, the air was completely still and sound carried easily. His toes managed to find footing and he eased down, keeping his claws hooked as an anchor as he gained more solid territory. When he was on the branch, he leaned against the trunk and slid his rifle into position, careful not to rustle the leaves. And then he froze, every muscle locked into a ready position as only his kind could do. Waiting. Watching. Marking his prey.

The bandits were oblivious to his presence. They separated, moving off the trail, one bandit crouched low in the leafy foliage of the shrubbery. Impatiently the man flicked a caterpillar from a leaf onto the faint trail. Rio didn't follow the path of the caterpillar. He never took his gaze from his prey. One hand slipped up to his neck to pull the long knife from its sheath. The rifle remained rock steady, the barrel aimed squarely on target, finger on the trigger. Rio pulled the knife free. Careful to keep the first man in sight, he followed the progress of the second, who had moved ahead and off the trail to climb into the low-hanging branches of a fruit tree. As he climbed, his boot scraped lichen from the trunk and his weight, as he pulled himself up, sent fruit tumbling to the ground.

The wind shifted slightly, playing through the leaves. The rain began again, a steady fall that had both bandits cursing as the drops soaked their clothing. Rio remained still, high in the branches above them. He caught the scent of fresh blood. He heard the whisper of clothing against a bush. That told him, more than anything else, that Joshua was badly injured. He would have shifted shape if he could and used the strength and speed of the leopard to get him home. Instead, he was dragging himself through the forest, using the easiest and most open trails.

Rio didn't wait to see Joshua's approach. He kept his eyes on the two bandits hiding in ambush. The one below him put down his rifle twice. Tied his boot. Fidgeted. The one in the tree held his gun and watched the trail. Rio kept his rifle aimed at the bandit in the tree. The moment he saw the man raise the gun to his shoulder, he fired.

Rio didn't wait to see the results of his marksmanship; he threw the knife at the man below him. The gurgling sound was ugly, but it told him what he needed to know as he changed position, leaping to another branch and sighting the first bandit a second time.

"He's down," Joshua said. He leaned against a tree trunk tiredly. Blood soaked his right side. "Thanks, Rio. You're a welcome sight. They would have killed me. I don't have much fight left in me." He slid down the tree and sank to the forest floor, his legs going out from under him.

Rio dropped to the ground and inspected the two bandits before going to Joshua. The man had lost too much blood. "You should have put a field bandage on this."

"I tried. No time. They were everywhere. We pulled everyone out that was there. One of the men had gone missing and no one knows what happened to him. The team scattered, each taking a vic, and Conner had to cover them." He looked up at Rio. "Drake took a hit. I don't know how bad."

Rio stiffened, forced himself to be gentle as he worked quickly on the wound. "He sent me to you."

"I k

now, I heard on the radio. That's like him. Three reported in clear. You had your radio off, I tried to let you know." Joshua began to slump to one side.

"Damn it, Josh, don't you die on me. I'll be pissed off if you do." Rio swore under his breath as he quickly worked on the wound to stem the flow of blood. The entrance hole was small and neat but the exit was a mangled, bloody mess.

The wind tapped him on the shoulder, brought him the scent of the hunters. A pack of them, out for blood, hot on Joshua's trail. They'd be furious when they found their dead lying in the midst of the shrubs.

"Josh, I have to take you up into the trees. I have no choice. I don't want to give you morphine, you're already in shock."

"Do what you have to do," Joshua muttered. His lids fluttered, but he was unable to find the energy to open his eyes. "If you have to leave me, Rio, give me a gun. I don't want Tomas to get his hands on me."

"Shut up," Rio said rudely. He retrieved his knife, cleaning the blade in the leaves before returning it to its sheath. "Let's go, the hounds are getting close."

Joshua made no sound as Rio slung him over his shoulder in a dead man's carry. Rio hoped he'd lost consciousness. The steel muscles running beneath his skin would be needed, the enormous strength of his kind. He went up the tree, higher than he'd like but where there was more cover. He wouldn't have the necessary speed for traveling along the branches carrying Joshua's weight, so he'd need stealth and cover.

The continual rain added to the complications, making the branches slick. Several times he disturbed birds and gliding lemurs. Squirrels scolded him and a thick snake uncoiled when he accidentally gripped it for an anchor as he made his way along the branch highway with Joshua.

He was nearing the river when, without warning, the birds took to the sky. Joshua stirred, but Rio's soft command stopped him from moving. Rio cached Joshua in the crotch of a thick branch, much like a leopard might with his dinner. It was the only tree with enough foliage to hide them. He had hoped to be on the other side of the river before the bandits caught up with them. His pulley and sling was stashed and would be useful, but he'd have to leave Joshua to set it up. He checked to make certain no blood dripped to give away their position. The roar of the river drowned most of the noise, but couldn't take away the other signs of approach. "Tomas and his crew are coming, Josh. You'll have to be quiet and stay right there, no moving."