Theea
they may say you're too small, you're too young
to do it all, but you're a giant on the inside
to do it all, but you're a giant on the inside
As Damien speaks, my earlier flicker of pride fizzles like a coal dropped in a muddy puddle. Thought she could handle it. Wanted to believe she was capable. Every word is one of those sizzling coals in the pit of my stomach. If I’d just had his back, he wouldn’t be talking like this. As if to prove him wrong, prove that I can handle this, I push myself upright, gritting my teeth against the pull of my wounds. The new pain is shocking—dizzying, nauseating—but I hold it together and scoot closer to the small fire until its heat licks at my knees.
I listen to the rest of what Damien has to say. We really had thought we were going to catch the silver leopard, and she’d outsmarted us but… she had underestimated us too… even if she was just trying to survive.
Something in me does lighten when he chuckles—a real sound, low from his chest, enough to echo off the stone. Stubborn, he says. Quite defiantly sitting up now, I shrug and answer, “When it matters, yes I am.” I throw his own words back at him like a spark caught and tossed.
Movement twitches at the back of the cave and my heart lurches. Gods, no—not another one. I don’t think either of us would survive a second round— but the sound that follows is distinctly infantile, a tiny rawr! that doesn’t belong to anything that can kill us. Damien’s shape bends into the dark, there’s a scramble and a mewl, and when he returns to the firelight, crouches beside me, it’s with a baby snow leopard cradled in his hands.
Its long tail brushes my arm and I smile, but it’s a sad, broken thing. I reach to stroke the cub’s head with my fingertips, feather-light. Damien says it without saying it—we killed this little one’s mother. Tears sting hot and sudden; guilt I know is irrational grips my heart anyway. My hand worries gently at the cub’s tail as I look up at him, almost pleading.
“Don’t kill it,” I breathe. “We can’t.”
I listen to the rest of what Damien has to say. We really had thought we were going to catch the silver leopard, and she’d outsmarted us but… she had underestimated us too… even if she was just trying to survive.
Something in me does lighten when he chuckles—a real sound, low from his chest, enough to echo off the stone. Stubborn, he says. Quite defiantly sitting up now, I shrug and answer, “When it matters, yes I am.” I throw his own words back at him like a spark caught and tossed.
Movement twitches at the back of the cave and my heart lurches. Gods, no—not another one. I don’t think either of us would survive a second round— but the sound that follows is distinctly infantile, a tiny rawr! that doesn’t belong to anything that can kill us. Damien’s shape bends into the dark, there’s a scramble and a mewl, and when he returns to the firelight, crouches beside me, it’s with a baby snow leopard cradled in his hands.
Its long tail brushes my arm and I smile, but it’s a sad, broken thing. I reach to stroke the cub’s head with my fingertips, feather-light. Damien says it without saying it—we killed this little one’s mother. Tears sting hot and sudden; guilt I know is irrational grips my heart anyway. My hand worries gently at the cub’s tail as I look up at him, almost pleading.
“Don’t kill it,” I breathe. “We can’t.”
