Redsand Canyon Depredador

The woman was named Leto. It had no meaning in his Spanish tongue and he was left to wonder faintly if she had her own language. It didn't matter, in truth. The art of the tongue was one he had mastered. The meaning of names could only tell him so much about a woman. All of them were called something. None of them were remembered. 

Leto, he tested her name on his tongue with a small smirk and a nod. 

I am Juárez. 

The jaguar pressed his hip to her side. He studied the musculature of her from this small motion, feeling the thick of her muscles against the soft touch of his frame.