smell their musky scent on the wind, tugging us to come closer, coiling our haunches, tensing our body to make ready for a strike.
But they were not here yet, our eyes could see that in amongst the broken landscape of rocks. There were no clack of hooves on stones to alert us, no picking at the sparse grass. We slunk along the ledge we were perched on, slow and silent as the grave, our broad furred paws muffling any sound.
It was the scent that did us in. It was so strong, quickly followed now by the smell of fresh blood and butchered meat, the scents blowing into the rise from the valley below. We moved more swiftly now, padding, padding, then leaping across fine spires of rock when we needed. We skirted our domain, wondering what the hell was creating that scent in our territory.
The human part of our brain realised there was something wrong when we found the pile of slaughtered ibex in the centre of the pathway into our territory. Why would animals be left here, mauled but not eaten? But in animal form, our instincts ruled supreme. We couldn’t have our human consciousness getting in the way of our ability to leap from rock to rock with a sure gait, of knowing all the moves of the savage dance that was running down prey, so those concerns were shoved to one side. Our stomach rumbled, reminding us of how long it’d been since we’d eaten, the pickings getting thinner now that the humans were moving their animals higher and higher into the mountains. We trotted over to the carcasses, the chemical smell mostly masked by the harsh metallic scent of blood. Our muzzle opened, and we could taste the blood on our breath, our body hunching down to take that first bite.
We’d scissored off a few delicious mouthfuls of that rubbery pink flesh, the musky stink of the ibex getting the saliva running. We hadn’t run this beast down, so the bloodlust seemed to compensate for that, rising higher, more intensely, the need to scarf down as much of the meat beating down on us. Which is why we missed it.
Our eyes jerked up as we heard the whistle, but by the time we saw the spider’s web of netting hurtling towards us, it was too late. We moved like lighting, but the net was faster, covering us, the weighted edges holding it down. As we scrambled, desperately trying to get free, the steely filaments tangled in our paws and feet until we went thudding down to the ground, panting and helpless. We realised why they had managed to sneak up on us when the boots appeared in front of us, reeking of ibex musk. They’d smeared the scent glands of the beasts they’d killed liberally all over them, hiding that treacherous stink of human.
“Time to see if we got a kitty or a furry,” one guy said with a chuckle. He whipped out a long metal cattle prod, our paws digging into the ground, trying to escape what we knew was coming. It made no difference. The blow landed, and we rode the lightning pumped through us, forcing every muscle into an agonising spasm. Piss saturated our fur, our cries frozen in our throat.
It was an aberration, a complete mockery of what was a natural process for us, as the seizing muscles were forced to shift, lengthen, transform, our leopard form ripped from us and leaving us naked and vulnerable on the ice-cold stones.
“There he is.” We could only move our eyes, our body frozen to the ground, still twitching. The man looked down at us with a triumphant grin before taking the hypodermic needle passed to him and thrusting it into our arm, an artificial darkness swallowing us before we could protest.
As was happening now.
I was jerked back to the institute and the sounds of the animals complaining as a man shouldered forward, shooting a blow dart into Gaden. My teeth jammed tight when I saw it hit, his growls filling the cave, his body rising up, ready to eliminate the threat, but he had no hope. He was in a tiny little metal box, kept caged so all of the natural superiority he possessed was neutralised. Instead, I was forced to watch his limbs collapse under him, all his normal grace stripped away by a chemical agent designed to make him compliant, then unconscious. I watched the life die in those beautiful eyes, then