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the upper part of the big cat’s waist. No armor covered the
muscular arms.
Leather gloves with the tips cut out to permit the use in
battle of sharp claws showed many patches and deep cuts
from previous fights. A deep gash across the black nose
had healed imperfectly. Jon-Tom took all this in as the
leopard strutted silently past them. The rest of the crew
murmured restlessly.
“You fought well,” their inspector finally growled.
“Very well. Too well, thinks I.” He glanced significantly
toward the sloop which bobbed astern of the bigger ship.
“Too many shipmates lost in taking such a small prize.”
Green eyes flashed. “I don’t believe in trading good mates
for scum, but we were curious about your strange craft.
Where do you come from and how come you by such a
peculiar vessel? ‘Tis not fashioned of wood. I’m sure of
that.”
“It’s fiberglass.”
The leopard’s eyes snapped toward Jon-Tom. “Are you
the owner of the craft?”
Jon-Tom nodded affirmatively. “I am.”
Something stung his face and he staggered, temporarily
blinded. His hand went instinctively to his face and came
away with blood. He could feel the four parallel cuts the
leopard’s claws had made. They were shallow, if messy. A
little lower and he would have lost both eyes.
Roseroar made a dangerous noise deep in her throat
while Mudge muttered a particularly elegant curse. The
leopard ignored them both as it stepped forward. It’s nose
was almost touching Jon-Tom’s.
“I am…sir,” it said dangerously. Mudge mumbled
something else, and immediately the leopard’s gaze flashed