Neither sleeping nor waking, neither dreaming nor thinking I lay as I had fallen; cast down upon the sand and stones, heaving, panting and nearly overpowered as a heap of torn flesh; all but senseless in a wreckage of splayed limbs, fresh blood, and shuddering nerves with the ferocious beast sprawled nearly atop me. Our battle had raged violently throughout the night; loud screams and savage roaring had shattered the silence around us as we had struggled mercilessly with one another, deep within the seclusion of the darkest heart of the Northern Forest. The primal bitch lay twisted between my thighs, wrapt within her final spasms; subdued for the moment, mewling and biting reflexively, shivering and clawing mindlessly, with her nails digging into and raking along my flesh as her blood dried upon my face.
The Hunt had been an exhilarating experience, deeply rewarding with the demand for all of my skills in her pursuit; several times she had nearly eluded me, retreating stealthily into the shadows just beyond my sight only to leap out again, unseen, unheard, to viciously attack me in ambush. She was a dangerous creature, and all the more extraordinarily so when chanced upon while lurking within the shadowy recesses of her own domain. More than once she had taken me unawares, nearly killing me before I could be rid of her fatal embrace of snapping teeth, swift claws, and feral abandon. More than once I had saved myself solely by strangling her nearly unconscious with my own hands, strong fingers wrapped desperately around her throat, choking the blood from her veins, squeezing the life from her lungs until she faltered.
Once, as an act of desperation, a gambit played to save my own life in a moment of torment beneath her claws, I had torn her fangs away from the flesh of my throat, seized her firmly with rough hands lifting her above my head and thrown her hissing and flailing, into the deepest part of the river bordering my hunting grounds. She had swam determinedly to the far shore, crawling from the water to cast herself down upon her belly among the reeds, panting with exhaustion, and shrieking in fury. Glad to be rid of her, I had fled to the shadows of the trees to recover my senses and tend my wounds in solitude.
Panthers were not small game, and could not so easily be trifled with; the ragged and bloody marks upon my skin shone in clear testimony of that one simple fact. This bitch, small, shapely and lithe, was a dangerous one; and that, made the blood boil within my veins.
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