She crouched, loose strands of black hair matted to her face from the dense, humid air. The moisture was so thick it created a fog that obscured her view through the giant green leaves. Xalbadora leaned her head forward slightly and closed her eyes.
The low, guttural sound came from five meters to her left, much higher in the trees and disguised by both foliage and fog. She remained rooted to her wide branch until the next call.
When it came, the guttural call stretched into a low growl.
No closer.
She glanced up, attempting to catch a glimpse of the sun but the dense canopy blocked most of the light.
It’s early yet for hunting, but…
Xalba assessed her bag, full of roots and plants she could use for medicine, then her rifle. It was old, a pass down from her grandfather, but clean and fired straight.
Her eyes darted around. Climb the ten meters down, attempt to reach the limb of the tree behind her and add some distance, or climb up and try to get a better look. She secured the bag, scanned the tree limbs around her and began to pull herself up. The higher she climbed, the more frequently she heard the low sounds. Xalba paused on a branch nearly twenty meters up; when heard it again, it was still low and rolled into a growl that almost sounded like a moan. The fog was thinner here, but she could not see across the gap between the trees.
Stooping low and stepping carefully out on the branch, Xalba moved until she reached a point on the branch where she could sit and secure her legs around smaller branch extensions. The growling continued, not moving but increasing in volume with each of her movements. She lifted the rifle and peered through the scope to the direction of the animal. At first, only a glimpse of black and gold patches was visible when the leaves rustled. She lifted her head to glance across the divide, then angled her head to look through the scope again.
As soon as she repositioned, the cat moved, slipping out of the foliage and forward on the branch, perching with its shoulders drawn together and haunches taught and ready to spring. Xalba lowered the rifle and regarded the clouded leopard, its amber eyes locked on her green ones.
I won’t hurt you.
The Mom Who Runs: 
Setranum, I liked your description here. The implied menace and your character’s precarious position really drew me in. I am a fellow blogging university student. Good luck with the writing!
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Greetings, fellow “student” of Blogging U! Thanks for your read and thoughts. This character has really been fun to write! She is featured in a few other pieces if you’re interested in reading more….Another Literary Lion piece: http://wp.me/p4rqdX-4R and the NYC Midnight Short Story Competition, round 1: http://wp.me/p4rqdX-3s.
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Beautiful story! I loved the description, it really drew me in. I always struggle for character names, you seem to have a good knack of finding very original ones! She reminded me a little of Katniss in the Hunger Games, a different scenario and story but reminiscent of that character.
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G’morning from the west side of the Atlantic and thanks! Yes, I agree with the Katniss similarities…I would have loved to have given her a bow & arrow but that would have been to cliche these days! This is a character I dreamed of one night and have slowly started writing. She appears in another story I have posted, a few years older: Violations that I wrote for a short story competition. There may be quite a story for this girl brewing in my noggin! Have a great day!
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That’s great. I think it’s a really good way of getting to know a character, writing lots of stories about them, and then you might just be ready to work on something longer! It was a nice surprise to read about the gun, as I did expect a bow and arrow, so you made a good call there I think! Have a lovely day too!
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