He chased her into the woods, into the trees and towards the caves in the mountain side. The lake soon lost behind him. Concentrating on the run ahead, he wove through the trunks of the forest, through bushes and bounded over rocks; keeping the site of that tail in vision.
He wondered about her. He had lived in these caves and forests nearly all of his 145 years. His last mate having been killed by hunters to many years ago; there have been no other changelings through here in sometime. Where did she come from? Who was she? He asked himself over and over.
Rounding a large cluster of trees he saw her. In a small clearing maybe thirty feet across, sitting on a bolder covered in grass and moss; licking at her paw. As he approached her, he growled and started walking towards the mountains. He looked over his shoulder at her, motioning with his tail to follow.
She nodded and came up to his side. She licked behind his ear before he moved on and she followed. The walk back to his cave was long but beautiful. She watched birds flying over head. She caught site of small bush animals scurrying. She pounced at one that got to close.
He wondered at her age and antics. He could have sworn she was too old to act like a cub new to hunting. While he led the way, he would look back and watch her. When she missed her third pounce, he could see her frustration. He stopped and looked at her, his head turned to the side. She shook her head and motioned for him to keep going.
She was frightened. She hid it as well as she could. How to tell a tiger that had lived in the woods his whole life that she had been born and raised with humans. She could tell her first moment entering this area that humans hadn't been here for to many years to even try and count. She had been lucky to find that small town, the one that told stories of a white tiger that hunted and lived in the forest. The stories said he was as old as the mountains and had out lived and protected three generations of the town. The old timers told the stories to scare the kids, and the kids told the stories to scare each other.
She was young by changeling standards, but not a youth. She was a fully grown, adult changeling. Unfortunately having been raised in cities with sky scrapers, she didn't know how to hunt or take care of herself here. The deer that she had eaten was truthfully a lucky kill. There had been neither skill nor grace in that kill. She worried what he would do when he found out. Would he laugh or scoff at her, find her wanting.
She wondered at what had happened at the lake. She had been drawn to him. Her parents would say it was a calling. He was her destined mate, not that overly pompous prick they had tried to get her to marry. She didn't want it. That mate would have been rude and indifferent.
She watched him walk before her. His muscles moving under his skin and fur. She saw the power in those muscles; the strength. Before to long her thoughts had worked her body up. He paused, sniffed and turned to look at her. If she could have blushed in tiger form she would have.
He watched her. He could tell she was aroused. He sighed in frustration; it was obvious she was embarrassed by it. But that's a human emotion he thought. Tigers don't get embarrassed. If the ability to be a changeling was transferred with a bite or a scratch like so many humans believed he would have sworn she was changed recently. The only thing that stopped him questioning her age fully, was her control. Only adult changelings have that much control over their forms. The thought of her on her hands and knees purring for him with her tiger eyes and fangs made him shiver slightly with want.
