She closed her eyes and stood on the edge of the verandah listening to the soothing rhythm of the rain. She inhaled the scent of the forest. It called to her. Called her with whispers of freedom. She couldn’t have Rio. She accepted that. She was not about to get him killed. No one saw him for the miracle he was. A good man who cared about his people, cared about the forest, the environment where he lived. Who was kind and gentle and compassionate. He had been so unexpected, a treasure to her, here in this place of beauty.
Her only gift to him was danger. Rachael sighed and
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curved her fingers around the railing wanting to weep with a terrible sorrow. She didn’t dare give in to it. Once she started to cry, she would never stop.
The call came again, and something deep inside of her answered, grew in power. She didn’t realize it at first, not until the wind touched her skin. The wildness swelled in strength, was without mercy, calling to her, roaring at her, insisting she listen. Her vision changed, cleared, waves of colored heat expanded her sight. Bands of red and yellow and blue. Scents burst through her tike bubbles of information. She smelled individual flowers, fruits, even scented the creatures in the trees.
Rachael’s skin itched, hurt with the weight of the material pressed against it. She peeled off the shirt and flung it aside. Her muscles were already stretching. Her spine cracked and she fell to the verandah floor. She found herself on her stomach staring at the wooden floor while her body took on a life of its own. The material rubbed her skin raw. Desperate, she yanked at the buttons. It took only moments to shed the jeans, to fling them away from her. The pain in her injured leg was excruciating as the muscles cramped, stretched and contorted. Ligaments popped. She could actually hear the sound of her body changing.
Grief was overwhelming. She mourned for what she couldn’t have. But there was this—her other self. It fought to aid her, fought to free her, to protect her from pain in a world she couldn’t control—or have. Her skin itched and her fingers curled. Fur burst through her pores, her muzzle extended to accommodate teeth. Her legs bent, stretched, her injured calf and ankle burning. Hooked nails sprang from her fingers, leaving her clawing at the wooden floor.
There should have been fear. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation to jerk to the floor, every muscle and sinew popping and crackling. It didn’t matter, she embraced the change, the opportunity to be something different. To have a chance at something else. The forest sprang to vivid life, a new world when she had no other. When she belonged nowhere
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else; The leopard lifted its head for the first time and surveyed her realm. Sounds poured in from all directions. Information transmitted by her whiskers. Scents and intriguing rustles. She could actually feel the distance from one object to another. It was exciting, exhilarating even.
Raphael got unsteadily to her feet, collapsed and tried again. She stretched languidly, feeling the enormous strength running like steel through her body. It had taken only a brief minute, yet it seemed a lifetime to shed her other self. She took several cautious steps, staggered and fell. The murmur of men’s voices was loud behind her, their scents filling her lungs. The pull to Rio was strong, overwhelming even, so that for a moment she hesitated. Grief welled up, sharp and black and all-consuming. Rachael wrenched her thoughts from him. She couldn’t have him. Heart pounding, she leapt to the branch below. Her injured leg burned but it held. She could ignore the throbbing pain and embrace what the leopard had to offer.
Sharp claws dug into bark as she teetered precariously, and then she felt the rhythm. The perfect rhythm of nature. The rain. The birds. The continual rustle of the leaves. The hum in her muscles. The beat of her heart. She felt strength flowing through her like a gift. Joy flooded her, replacing despair and anguish. She leapt from branch to branch, feeling the power within her growing. And then she was on the forest floor, running for the sheer joy of it. Running to feel her sleek muscles stretching and her legs reacting like springs as she bounded effortlessly over fallen tree trunks. She splashed through puddles and small streams and leapt up embankments that would have been impossible to climb.