Hushed Willows Could've been the wine

Although Kin exchanged a glance with Eleuthera, they did not seem to be on the same page. After all, his glance had not meant, Let's go ahead and face a mountain lion today. It had been something more like, Oh shit, let's get out of here while we still can!

But he was hot on her heels, calling, "Leu! What the hell are you — "

He cut himself off, silently fuming, so that they would not give away their position and themselves become hunted instead of huntee. Except that he was sure the cat was already hunting them — why else would it enter a pack's claim?

But for once, he was able to lay eyes on a cat without it first rushing him — it occurred to Kincaid in that moment that he'd never seen one that wasn't acting highly aggressive toward himself or some other poor soul. It occurred to him because he, too, was struck by the terrible, haunting beauty of the creature — there was really nothing else like it. He saw them so very rarely, unlike bears, bison, and to a lesser extent, moose; it was really something special each time, and he'd never gotten the chance to appreciate it before that moment.

"My lord," he said under his breath, and stuck close to Eleuthera as she called out. Kin did his best to pretend he wasn't edging in front of her, hoping to make them both look a little larger by sticking close together, and knowing that, of the two of them, he looked a little less like an appetizer.