Affliction (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter) - Laurell K. Hamilton Page 0,85

earth, so that as long as I ducked under the branches I could run full out, trusting that if I turned when he turned, followed his body like a guide through the trees, I’d be fine. I kept my free hand up to guard my face from the branches that he didn’t have to worry about but my human form was tall enough to catch.

I felt Nicky to our left, but it wasn’t the human part of me that felt him; my lioness knew he was there. It was the first hint I had that he was tied to me as my Bride, and as a lion; as a Bride he sensed me more than I sensed him, but the lion part of me was more aware of him. I glimpsed Nicky like a pale shadow under the trees. I tried to sense Ares, but I had nothing for him, no metaphysical tie and no connection to his hyena. I had to use my human eyes to look to our right and find him racing through the trees to keep up with us. I knew that Nicky could feel me, but Ares was as blind metaphysically to me as I was to him. We had to look for each other; maybe he could smell my scent more than I could his, but even without a stronger connection he was there, at our side, racing on long legs through the trees.

I heard yelling behind us, and I realized it was Al and all the other police. I hadn’t thought about them until that moment. The world had narrowed down to the leopard at my side, the uneven ground, the swipe of pine branches against my upraised arm, Nicky like a satellite at our side and the noise and movement that was Ares.

I slowed, and Nathaniel pulled at the end of the leash. I had a sense of just how strong he might be and knew that if he didn’t want me to walk him on the leash he would pull me off my feet and ‘walk’ me.

I said, ‘Nathaniel, slow,’ a firm command, the way I’d been taught years ago to talk to a big dog when you could tell by body language it was about to do something you’d regret. The very big cat slowed and looked back over its shoulder at me. There was some appeal on its – his – face. I couldn’t read it, and I wanted to. I lowered my shields just a bit more and suddenly the night was alive with scent and sound and touch that hadn’t been there before.

The smells were everywhere, like a thick, invisible blanket that moved and filled me with so … there was something small and furry to our right. It was eatable and smelled like a mouse, but not. The pines were so strong that he’d filtered out the scent the way that a human would react to the constant hum of machinery; eventually you tune it out, but there were so many other things to smell: I would have said I could smell leaves, but there were sharp green smells, old brown smells, and it wasn’t the leopard adding the color in my head, that was me, because my human mind had no words for the variety and difference in each scent. I added color, because I couldn’t understand without adding some visual cue to all the smells. In human form I didn’t have the part of the brain big enough to decipher things purely as smell. I was a primate and we’re visual, so I tried to translate all that rich, wonderful information into colors – that smell was sharp, hot, red; that one soft, peaceful, blue; spicy was brown and red; spruce was blue and green; pine was like an ocean of green that we kept having to swim free of to sense anything else. I knew the term nose-deaf for hunting dogs, but I’d never realized just how limited my world was to my beasts. How frustrated they must have been to be trapped inside this human body with its limited ability to scent the wind.

I’d always thought my beasts resented this less dangerous body – no claws, no fangs, no way to climb and run the way they wanted to, but I stood there in the forest with Nathaniel’s leopard trying to share everything he was sensing and my human brain could not translate it. I got glimpses of it, bits, pieces, and