There was no sound, nor did Conner think Ottila would make such a mistake. He watched the brush around Rio until he saw what he was looking for. A low branch on a bush shifted slightly when there was no breeze. That was all the warning he got—all he needed. His gaze locked on to the ground and brush. His tail twitched and he stilled it. Waiting.

The snarling face of a male leopard in his prime pushed through the foliage and froze. Conner could see the fur was darker than his own golden pelt—more of a tan or tawny base, with a sea of black rosettes covering his body. Ottila looked a strong brute, large with roped muscles and cunning intelligence burning in his yellow-green gaze. His ears lay flat on his head as he crept forward, never taking his eyes from the motionless boot sticking out of the bushes just yards from him.

The path chosen by the stalking leopard would take him close to the tree where Conner lay in wait. Conner gathered himself, every muscle coiling tight in preparation. Inch by inch, Ottila crept forward. The foot never moved. The body never shifted. Conner was afraid Rio had passed out again and wouldn’t be able to defend himself if he missed the initial attack.

He kept his gaze focused on the leopard, watching each freeze-frame step that took him closer to his prey. He waited until he could see the bunching of the muscles beneath the thick fur, the gathering as Ottila prepared to charge. With the darker leopard so focused on his prey, Conner launched his own attack, striking with the blurring speed of the leopard. At the last moment, Ottila must have sensed his presence, breaking off his focused stare to look up.

Conner hit him hard, knocking him off his feet. They rolled, a tangle of teeth and claws, raking at one another. Tails lashed as both rose up on their hind feet, digging deep into the ground for leverage as both tried for a suffocating hold on the throat. Ottila hissed and snarled his hatred of his rival, the roars reverberating through the forest, so that the birds rose screaming from the trees. Howler monkeys threw twigs and sticks down on the two leopards.

The cats separated, circled and met again in midair, eyes locked, both savagely ripping at the other. Ottila arched into a half-circle, his flexible spine enabling him to nearly fold into two. Conner timed his swipe perfectly, raking hard at the belly, ripping deep even as the darker leopard tore open his side. They landed, sides heaving, blood smearing the leaves around them both as they once again circled warily.