Just another product of today - Rather be the hunter than the prey
He was just about to uncover it, just about to scratch that itch too far from reach, when something came tearing from the tree top. The sound of leaves being pelted out of the way was only enough of a warning for him to turn his head and see the object in its entirety as it struck him. The shoe spun toe over heel as it careened towards him, landing its slap perfectly with its sole whipping from bottom to top across the side of his face, like an ultimate boot stomp.
A yowl rumbled from the mighty beast, no less indignant than an alley cat knocked off its fence post, just perhaps with a bit more bass. He also spun ridiculously on the spot, as if struck by a hot iron instead of molded leather, the startling aspect of it enough to draw that reaction and nearly send him running helter-skelter through the shrubs. Sometimes survival instincts just meant reacting as fast as you could, even if the threat was nothing more than a shoe.
Only the shout of his name stilled him. The voice that called it was so familiar that his head whipped around, and instantly the fragrance he'd been sorting through had a name. He called it, "Mel!", but in his current form it only came out as a low rumble. He raced towards the tree, as enthusiastic as a kitten as he reached up with his massive paws and curling claws. Lions weren't adept climbers, but as he reached his fur billowed, withdrawing rapidly, bones shifting seamlessly from lion to man as he ascended to her level.
"MEL!" he cried out, overjoyed as he reached to grab her in his arms in a zealous bear-hug. It was perhaps not the best idea given their current arboreal positions; as it was he was balancing on two different branches that still swayed under his hasty movements and weight. Perhaps if he were his mother, who'd always perched well in trees, there'd be nothing to fear, but Iskra was only marginally better than lions when it came to branches.
I S K R A
Will heaven step in - Will it save us from our sin
