A black panther brother to the spotted leopard glared down at him from above; the crafty beast had smelled the bushbuck but decided on a live meal, so it had stealthily moved up into the tree behind the night ape. Had it smelled the blood on Gazda’s breath as he slept?
Stupid! Fool!
The full moon suddenly slipped out from behind the rain clouds, its light piercing the canopy to throw the predator into stark relief.
The sudden brilliance blinded Gazda as pain burned across his mind where the panther’s big claws dug deeper into his flesh. The beast was forced to keep its other limbs wrapped around the branch to avoid being pulled from its perch with its prize.
The night ape growled up into the black beast’s yellow eyes. Unlike the spotted leopard’s fur, this panther’s hide made it the perfect night hunter.
Snarling, it lifted Gazda, as the night ape’s vision cleared and showed him the bright white fangs in its open jaws.
Gazda squirmed, and reached up to grab the big cat’s shoulder. With a wrench, he ripped his face and neck away from the claws and fell the 15 feet to hit the ground on his back.
The impact knocked the breath out of him but he had no time to catch it. While above, still etched against the moonlit canopy, the panther hissed, and with a terrifying howl leapt down at him with long fangs flashing and curved claws raking the air.
Gazda ignored the pain in his mangled face and throat as he whipped the long knife from its sheath and brought the shining blade up in time to drive it into the panther’s chest when it fell upon him.
The beast’s eyes blazed with pain and fury; before yowling, the predator writhed and raked at Gazda with its long claws.
The panther bit into the night ape’s face, driving its upper fangs into Gazda’s cheekbone while the lower teeth ripped up through his jaw and tongue, jamming the crushed bone against the roof of his mouth.
Gazda ignored the ruin of his flesh and the burning pain to put his full fury into the long knife he twisted between the big cat’s ribs. Locked together by teeth and violence, the night ape tasted the panther’s blood in his mouth where it mixed with his own.
The beast again slashed his naked chest and thighs with its claws to tear him asunder.
But the night ape could do no more than growl and twist his long knife with all his strength as the panther chewed at his face.
The beast shuddered suddenly, and a cracking noise reverberated as Gazda’s blade snapped three of the big cat’s ribs. The animal went limp.
Growling angrily, Gazda moved and rolled to get out from under the body, and onto his knees. There he slowed, dragging in a deep breath before he shifted the panther’s head this way and that to gingerly open the muscular jaws that were still locked upon him, pulling and pushing to work its fangs out of his face.
There was a wet, sucking sound finally and the panther’s jaws fell away from him.
Dark blood pulsed out of the holes in Gazda’s mangled face as he climbed unsteadily to his feet to sway over his dead enemy.
The pale skin on the night ape’s body hung in flaps and showed the bloody ribs on each side of his chest, and he wondered for a moment why he was not dead.
But then, elation overpowered his pain, and setting one bare foot upon the dead panther, he threw his head back and beat upon his chest while giving the mighty roar of a bull ape that had killed its prey.
The bestial cry shook the jungle around him, and painted the forest floor with a bloody spray of gore from his lungs.
Coughing, Gazda’s strength began to pour out of him, but his nostrils caught the potent scent of the panther’s blood. He dropped upon the body and tore its throat open to drink. Kneading the dead muscles with his shaking hands, the blood spurted into his mouth, and as it flowed down his throat he felt a shadow of his strength return.
His vision still swam as he drank, but as he squeezed the dead flesh for every drop of rich blood, his power returned in surges.
And as he drank, all of his wounds began itching and throbbing, and his torn muscles quivered terribly. Gazda gripped his lower jaw while agony flared there as the broken bone made cracking noises while positioning itself to knit.
Then dropping to his knees, the night ape clutched at the torn flesh on his chest and thighs, pressing it painfully into place, pushing it against the shape of his ribs and muscles where it formed scarlet lines along the torn edges.
He was healing, but he needed much more blood to restore the lethal injuries he had suffered—and much of the panther’s store had spilled upon the ground.
Gazda glared at the dead beast in the dark, licking at the strong red fluid that still seeped from it. The pain, heat and fury of battle was leaving him as his wounds healed, and he finally smiled at the panther’s carcass, while running a hand over its sleek black fur.
“Thank you for your blood, it is me now,” he told the dead creature through mangled lips. “You are a great hunter and honor me with this gift. I will be like you and our flesh will be one. I will move silently and strike quickly.” He went quiet as a hunger pang wrenched his guts. His wounds continued to itch. “I will catch the hunter while he hunts.”
Gazda climbed off of the body, and using his knife, commenced to remove the black hide. The night ape’s flesh continued to knit along fading purple seams as he worked, but he only paused from time to time to shudder as sundered nerves re-grew and blazed anew with pain. There was a final cracking sound
