My Wild Beast
Chapter 27: Yoa’s Hideout (3)

Chapter 27: Yoa’s Hideout (3)

Fishing at sea was much harder than by the river. Yoa didn’t want to spend too long away from Nova, not in her state of confusion, nor did he want to. He’d become protective of her without realising it.

That troublesome little mouse had somehow wiggled her way under his thick hide. Troublesome being the key term here. Another reason why he couldn’t be away from Nova for long. She kept attracting trouble, and he didn’t want one of his hideouts exposed. That one in particular by Luna Lacus had been a secret for centuries.

Although he couldn’t be away for too long, it made his inner beast restless. Yoa had to go to one of the rivers, though. That meant venturing back through tribes. However, leaving Nova behind really was quicker than ensuring her safety.

In his jaguar form, Yoa ran through the forest unconcerned about anything or anyone. Everyone shrank back in fear. The trees whispered to each other, and the parrots alerted other birds and creatures that Yohuali was on the move.

The forest was his domain, and creatures big and small abandoned what they were doing so as not to be Yoa’s next meal. Fools. They should know by now that if he wanted to hunt them, he could. Right now, he was loud. Right now, he wasn’t stalking in the shadows, hiding in the underbrush.

Yoa was never one to hide unless he was hunting. They should know by now that they are safest when they can see him, when he isn’t trying to hide himself. Still, there was some thrill in watching others scarper because of him.

He’d already planned his route and what part of the divided river he would seek out. None of the monkey tribes threatened him. The Vohraki—the voiced ones could still be heard howling even past the lake—and the Takaru weren’t near the water source, leaving Yoa to deal with Tomaq’s tribe.

The capuchins scattered up the trees, the chief being the only monkey with his guards to remain where he is on the lowest branch to observe Yoa, letting one of his warriors hold onto the staff he usually carried. Maybe with Tomaq’s old age, he’d become fearless or perhaps wiser because in the seconds it took for Yoa to race through Tomaq’s lands, the small monkey noted the female’s absence and understood that Yohuali was on a quest and not a hunt.

Yoa passed the river, leaping across the large stepping stones and swimming past a few anacondas, undisturbed by his presence but wary of him, nonetheless. Everybody except for the Ancients was prey to him.

He found a quiet spot, the best spot without disturbing the Apatka tribe. Those crocs dwelled in the river and the marsh landers further south. He leapt out of the water and observed it along the side of it. The Tambaqui will swim back once the water isn’t disturbed by outsiders again.

A few of them should be fine to feed his little mouse. The rounded, fat-bellied silver fish were large. Even Yoa could only eat three for a meal. Nova was much smaller than him, so the Tambaqui should fill her. If not, then he would find more until she is satisfied.

His jaw snapped forward, lunging into the water in quick succession. His head pulled back with his catch, water droplets spraying everywhere over the sleek black jaguar. The big cat stepped back, ears pulled back, proud of his catch.

Yoa frowned at his thoughts as the fish thrashed violently in his mouth, writhing desperately to be free of the predator and return to the clear waters of Soluma. Was he treating Nova like his mate?

A low growl rumbled through his throat as the fish’s tail whopped him in the cheek before he crunched harder into it and dropped it on the side and dove for another.

He couldn’t think of Nova in that way, even if his beast had left a mark on her. That was when he was certain they wouldn’t cross paths again. He couldn’t control himself. He had to know she was safe after leaving him. Even if that meant they’d be connected for the rest of their lives without seeing each other again.

As long as she was safe and happy. Safe and happy. That wasn’t here on this island. Yoa knew this. He was rational. It was his beastly side that could be just as troublesome as that little mouse at times.

Yoa tossed another fish onto the small pile he’d collected, then sank his claws into the dirt, hackles raising as he sensed another nearby. Unlike the monkeys, it was much bigger. Its aura brimming with power.

Braced for an attack, Yoa glanced up to the skies where a harpy eagle circled ahead. Its massive wings cut through the air, each beat rumbling along the ground now. Usually, they were much more subtle and silent. They wanted him to know they were there.

The bird blotted out the sun with its immense wingspan, its plumage dark and dense. Yoa observed it. The harpy eagle was much larger than some of the others in their tribe.

Ixana.

No. Not Ixana. Her eagle form was even bigger. This was Vulcan. Yoa could tell from the new scar he’d caused on the eagle’s talons.

Besides, Ixana wasn’t foolish enough to follow him alone. Neither was Vulcan. They never did. That meant they were searching for Nova.

Vulcan soared down in one swoop, shifting mid-flight, one large brown feather floating down to fall on Yoa’s pile of fish, the entire feather covering it. Yoa’s golden-red eyes remained on the eagle shifter whose wings fluttered behind him as he landed on a nearby branch, crouching, those long dark wings falling behind him off the branch. Close enough to act as a threat but far enough that the eagle believed he was safe from Yoa’s clutches.

Unlike many of the harpy eagles in their human forms, Vulcan had let his white hair grow out longer. Others in their tribe preferred shorter hair, matching their eagle form, where the plumage on their skulls resembled crowns. They also followed the trend set by the Sky Matron, hoping to honour her with their appearance.

Like Ixana, Vulcan’s earthen skin tone sharply contrasted with his white hair. Yoa had heard some women say it was attractive, but the black jaguar thought it looked stupid. Half of his scalp was shaved, revealing inked feathers behind his ears, matching the two sticking out behind the back of his hair on the other side of his head.

Vulcan’s hair was pulled back into two braids, partially freeing his sharply cut, handsome face, framed by piercing, cruel yellow eyes.

His hair, longer than the others, was a statement among the tribe, revealing the slight rivalry Yoa noted had been brewing between mother and child. It had been ever since Ixana’s youngest, Ayumi, the next heir, was born. In the harpy tribes, females ruled in the hierarchy. They were larger, more powerful, and tended to be more ruthless.

Most mothers were about their young.

But the Silver Feather tribe was capable of much harsher injuries to those even passing their young. So big were the harpy eagles that even Yoa didn’t know how they’d become so abnormally large. If he questioned that, he, too, would then have to question the existence of the Ancients on these lands.

These thoughts flashed by in mere seconds as Yohuali, the feared black jaguar of the forest, stared off with Vulcan, the princeling of the Sky Matron.

"Where is she?" Vulcan asked, getting straight to the point, his voice quiet, calm and collected as he watched Yoa sharply, his eyes snapping at every little movement around the big cat.

Yoa snarled, baring his fangs to him before shifting into his human form, casually removing the feather from his pile of fish and tossing it aside without a care in the world. "Gone," he said simply.

"You lie," Vulcan clipped, leaning forward slightly, only holding onto the branch by one hand now, his wings ruffling behind him, possibly preparing to attack or fly skyward.

"She’s gone back to her people where she belongs." Yoa settled down into a crouch, grabbing a spearhead the earth brought up for him, the grass making way for it, brushing the weapon into his outstretched hand and relaxing in motion once more.

Yoa sliced a few palm fronds from the nearest bushes and began skilfully weaving a basket whilst watching eagle shifter.

"No!" Vulcan’s feathers ruffled behind him. The outburst was surprising and made Yoa pause. The basket was already half made. "That is impossible," Vulcan gritted out.

At Vulcan’s words, the certainty in them, Yoa’s eyes narrowed on him. "What do you know, son of the Sky Matron?"

That made Vulcan’s lips twist, a clear sign he hated being known as merely a son to someone who was more important. "Enough!" Vulcan snapped, rustling his feathers and started pacing along the branch, watching Yoa return to weaving the basket. The arrogant cat infuriated the eagle. So, what if he were Yiska?

The Silver Feather tribe ultimately ruled mostly, the skies were their haven and if the Gods allowed it they could have been the ones to rule Isla de Tayun.

Vulcan paused mid-step, his thoughts halting as his gaze snapped back at the pile of fish. That was a lot of fish. More than enough, even for a beast like Yoa. There was more than enough for a tiny woman.

His lips curled into a smirk. Yoa dropped the basket and leapt, shifting mid-air in a desperate surge, just as Vulcan pushed off the branch.