It wasn't a sound. It wasn't an odor. It was a sensation that was born in the back of my neck, right on the nape, like an icy pang that spread beneath my scales all the way to my bones.

I had felt it before. Small, weak tingles that I always thought were due to nerves before leaping to hunt. But this time, it was an alarm bell that wouldn't stop ringing, a warning that was screaming. I was being watched. Not by some curious animal, but by a predator. A being that observed with the intent to attack.

All the pleasure and happiness from that victory evaporated.

My body tensed. My hyperactive mind took total control.

Don't move abruptly, better not move, at all.

I looked at the boar on the ground, my freshly earned meal. Was that it? Or perhaps bait? Was someone else following the boar? Waiting patiently for a predator to make the mistake of hunting it?

Fear invaded me, a cold and paralyzing fear. If that creature had truly used the boar as bait, it meant it could reason like me. The rest of the animals I had seen hunted when they were hungry and lunged straight without thinking too much. But that being had patiently followed the boar until I jumped to hunt it; I was being watched, perhaps from much earlier. Who was to say that trap wasn't just for any predator? What if it was waiting for me? What if it had been observing me since the first day, waiting for the moment to strike?

I had to get out of there as fast as possible and abandon my food; the risk was too high. The boar, no matter how tasty, was not worth it.

I pushed aside my fears and doubts; it wasn't time to hesitate. I had to survive; that was the law of the mountain. A swift movement. I dragged my long tail across the floor of dry leaves and dirt, raising an ephemeral curtain of dust, just enough to break the line of sight of the invisible observer.

I ran.

I fled at full speed, through the undergrowth. I could feel the presence, an invisible pressure that didn't diminish. I could hear the sound. Not the sound of paws on the ground, but of something leaping on the tree branches, moving above me with terrifying agility and speed.

I tried to swerve off the path, attempting to hide or lose sight of it, seeking the protection of a pile of rocks. My mind, still reasoning in the midst of the escape, screamed at me: Where is it? How is it so fast?

A deafening crunch sounded to my right. A trunk split with a dry blow. And from the shadows, a being plummeted in front of me.

I stopped dead in my tracks, skidding on the wet leaves. My heart began to beat with a dull fury. I had been intercepted.

It was a feline. A hunter in every sense, with the dense musculature and the low, tense posture of a puma. But it wasn't a normal puma.

Its paws and chest were an electric blue, bright and icy, almost phosphorescent in the dim light of the forest. The rest of its body was an intense purplish red. And the most unsettling were the structures protruding from its back: black, twisted, and woody roots that wrapped around its neck and limbs like natural armor. They didn't seem to be hair or tendons, but had the very texture of wood.

The being kept its head low, the fur on its purplish back bristled, forming a menacing crest. Its eyes, two cobalt blue slits, fixed on me without a single blink, filled with a terrifying intelligence. It was in attack position. At the slightest sign of weakness or lateral movement, the assault would begin.

I couldn't run. I couldn't hide. I couldn't let the creature take the initiative. The only option left to me was to be the first to attack, even though I wanted to avoid it at all costs.

I let out a roar, in an attempt to scare or stun the puma, which flinched slightly but did not retreat.

With a movement that defied my own weight, I launched into the charge. I was clear from the start: if I wanted to have the slightest chance of winning, I had to stop holding back. An explosive sprint, my front claws seeking to collide with the feline's blue chest.

The puma was a shadow. It neither defended nor dodged horizontally; it leaped vertically with a power that lifted it above my head. In the air, it twisted, and the instant I passed beneath it, the puma dropped onto my back.

The attack was surgical. The creature dug its hind claws into the base of my folded wings, and its fangs sank into my shoulder, right where the neck joined the torso.

An instantaneous, searing pain ran through my body. It wasn't the pain of a scratch; it was a bite that sought to pierce and tear. I felt the crunch of a broken scale; if it weren't for the armor nature had given me, that wound would have been much worse than it already was.

I roared with furious pain and surprise, and using the weight of my own body, I shook violently, throwing myself backward against the trunk of a nearby tree.

The puma, clinging with an iron tenacity, felt the blow and released itself with an agile leap backward. We both landed, separated by ten meters. I couldn't stop panting, and the puma was motionless, licking the blood from the wounds caused by the impact. As far as I could tell, even the puma hadn't expected how resistant my body was, as part of a tooth seemed to have broken when it bit me.

The fight continued. I charged again, but this time I readied my tail. A low lash, seeking to trip the puma's legs. The creature, however, avoided the blow with a lateral jump, and counterattacked with lightning speed, seeking the wound spot again.

Shit, it's too smart! I thought as I narrowly dodged the next swipe.

The feline was not just strong and fast; it was intelligent. It avoided my front claws and my snout, aiming only for the back, the least protected part. It seemed to know every move and attack I attempted by heart, anticipating my hunting tricks. Now there was no doubt: that creature had been watching me for some time and had studied my movements beforehand. In the middle of a strike, I roared again, trying to stun it, causing the puma to close its eyes in annoyance, a moment I took advantage of to land a powerful swipe that sent it flying away from me. Unfortunately, that trick wouldn't work twice.

The battle turned into a desperate dance. I excelled in power and speed, but the puma was just as fast and possessed precision and combat knowledge. It had already caused small cuts on my flanks, a deep scratch on my hind leg, and a bite on my left shoulder. Despite all the pain, I could still clearly feel that persistent sensation on the nape of my neck, which had turned from a tickle into something much more aggressive and sharp, as if my body were screaming at me.

We separated once more. The puma didn't look exhausted, but expectant. Its wounds were minimal compared to mine. The cobalt blue eyes did not waver for an instant. It knew it had the advantage. It knew I was young, a novice in the struggle for survival against a true predator.

I can't win this fight. Not yet. If I keep this up, I'll die...

I formed a new plan in my mind: to flee, but not aimlessly, or I would end up in the same situation again. I had to return to the mountain, to my territory, where the verticality offered me an opportunity, however small.

I turned abruptly and ran, this time with all the speed my legs could generate. The puma hesitated for a second, perhaps surprised by the escape, but then launched into pursuit, maintaining the distance.

I ended up heading back towards my refuge and used the rocks that formed it to climb the mountainside, leaping over the rocks and moss I already knew. I could hear the creature approaching.

As I passed a small group of loose stones, I hit them with my tail, not with the intention of injuring, but to create an avalanche of debris. The rocks fell, hitting the puma, which responded with a furious growl, forcing it to slow down.

¡GHRRR!

I gained a few precious seconds. I continued ascending the wall, digging my claws where I knew there was grip, climbing with desperation.

The puma, with incredible agility, soared after me, digging those black roots that came out of its body into the rocks, thus achieving a better grip for climbing.

I kept moving until I finally reached the path that almost circled the mountaintop. If I could get a little further, I could escape the puma by sliding between the rocks. But my heart sank. Right in front of me, the path was completely cut off; part of the mountain had collapsed at some point, cutting the route in half. I was cornered. Even if I tried to climb the mountain wall, that feline predator wouldn't take long to catch up and trap me with a single leap.

Right behind me, the blue and purple puma began to peer out from between the rocks, still staring at me, ready for the final leap.

There was no escape. There were no more rocks to throw. Only the sky remained, the same sky I had been trying to reach for two weeks without success.

Fly.

My mind didn't command it; it pleaded. It was a final instinct, the only possible way out.

I closed my eyes, concentrating all my consciousness on the folded wings on my back. I ignored the pain of the bite, ignored the emptiness of my stomach. I felt the cold wind of the height whistle through the membranes. I could feel the muscles that formed them, the tension of the skin.

Strength. Speed. Move.

I opened my wings with effort, and felt the smooth movement in my shoulders. I began to flap forcefully. I approached the edge of the path. I could glimpse the entire forest from up there. I only had to fly a little to reach the other side and I would be safe.

One flap, two flaps, three flaps, each time faster, stronger. I felt a great force inside me surge through my body; adrenaline rushed through my veins at great speed. I picked up speed just as the puma finally managed to climb up to where I was.

I ran toward the void, and jumped with all my might, my wings relentlessly beating, trying to keep my weight in the air.

But it wasn't enough. The weight was too much. Gravity conquered the muscle. In that instant of failure, all that was left for me was a free fall, backward, down the mountainside.

The cold air hit my face. I heard the puma's roar of frustration as I fell at great speed, furious at having lost its prey.

Then, the dry thud, the crunch of wood, the tearing of leaves. I tumbled and collided with a young tree that yielded with a groan. Thorny branches began to tear at me, although thanks to my scale armor, they didn't do much damage. The fall became a violent and uncontrolled descent; each impact was a hammer blow of pain that drained my consciousness.

Finally, with a final impact that knocked all the air from my lungs, my body stopped, tangled and semi-conscious, in the dense darkness of the lower part of the forest. Everything became blurry, and all I could feel were those throbs of pain that reminded me with great insistence that I had survived the puma and the fall.