My jade eyes sweep the landscape, first in a quick, jerking motion, and then more slowly, in case he’s simply blending in somewhere. But he’s gone. I’ve lost him. I grunt, fidgeting. I’m frustrated with myself for letting him vanish, but at the same time I’m more intrigued than before. He can’t hide from me forever, after all; I’m too determined, too resourceful. Too smart. I have his scent now. I know where to look – I can find him on the sidelines of whatever’s going on, tucked away like a ghost. Quiet as a shadow. Whereas I am standing awkwardly amongst the trees, searching for a phantom who doesn’t want to be found.
“Tell me – do you enjoy stalking people?”
His voice comes at me like a sword and I drop low, childlike, dipping toward the ground as if it will defend me from whatever malevolence seeps from his presence. But he doesn’t run at me. He doesn’t even move closer to me. He simply asks his question and watches me, as though I’m as interesting to him as he is to me. I steady myself for a moment, collect my thoughts and stop my breaths from quivering – if he wanted me dead, I’d be dead by now, and it’s not something I’ll soon forget. He has me by the throat, even if he hasn’t made the move. I’ve never been caught before.
I’m completely out of my element.
His voice shakes me in a different way. Hearing him speak for the first time is…unnerving. It’s my first step in knowing the shadow I’ve been following. But how much will he let me learn? He closes the space between us and I can almost feel the heat radiating from his skin. His golden coat, so different from mine, seems to shimmer in the beams of light that fight their way through the canopy above our heads. He smiles. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, and yet, at this point, I’m struggling to feel threatened. I’m bemused, certainly, but I don’t feel as though he intends to hurt me. So I smile back. My youthful, winning smile, reserved for those moments when I need it most. I can only hope that it will benefit me here. I can only hope that my young face, imitating his charming expression, will be enough to catch him off guard.
An honest answer seems to be the best approach to my situation. “I don’t stalk. I follow,” I begin, “I watch. I learn.” I’m quiet for a moment, considering what I should say next, but he bows his head and meets my eyes, taking me in for what I am. I can only imagine what he sees. A youth; just two years old. Still growing. But not hard to look at, if one were to ask me. I don’t know what any of this means to him, or even how he perceives it, but I know he’s looking. He’s looking hard. I rise to my full height, matching his stare – I’ve been watching him from a distance for some time now, I know what he looks like. In my head, that puts him at a disadvantage. I’ve done my observing in that department.
My confidence flows through me but I bite it back. I’ve found that its abundance blinds me to a given situation, makes me bold, brave, stupid. Blind. He may decide to hurt me, yet. If that happens I need to be ready. He’s too big to fight. I’ll have to run. And that knowledge may be the only thing standing between myself and an untimely death. I give him a swift up-and-down with my eyes, taking him in from ears to toes, and then I lock eyes with him again. “I was just curious as to why you were watching another male at the gathering yesterday.” This is a half-truth: I’d followed his line of sight, but that wasn’t what drew me to him, but it seems like an effective counter. I don’t make any further suggestions. I haven’t even really suggested anything. But from this statement alone I’ll be able to judge his temper, and possibly even his strength.
We’ll see.