Leopard 02 - Wild Rain

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 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.
    Rachael 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.
    Sunlight dappled the floor in places and she pounced on the ever-moving rays, slapped at leaves and pine needles, sending them up in a shower of vegetation just because she could. She chased deer, climbed trees and ran along the overhead highway, disturbing birds and agitating the gibbons on purpose. Laughter bubbled up, a well of happiness. She turned to tell him. Rio. She remembered this.
    She remembered the joy of taking this other form and running with him. Sharing the forest paths with him. Of rubbing her muzzle along his great head in affection. They had shared a life together, one of intense love and compelling sexual attraction. She knew him in this form just as she knew him in their human form.
    Rachael stopped suddenly, her heart pounding in terror. She was alone. Rio was not in her life and he could never be. Whatever life they may have shared in another time, another place, they couldn’t have it in this one. He couldn’t take this form and give up his human side as she had chosen to do. He had responsibilities. She knew him well enough to know he would never let his people down. Sorrow was a heavy burden and she felt it equally in both forms. She lay in the branches of a tall tree, far from his house, put her head on her paws and wept.
    Rio listened politely to Kim, glancing every now and then toward the verandah. Rachael had moved away from the open door and