Wēn Jìng quickly plucked the panther cub off Han Shān's chest with one hand, set him on the ground to her left, and offered Han Shān her other hand to help him up.
"There," she said pleasantly, to both of them. "Hello."
The panther cub stared up at her.
He was, now that he was not actively a projectile, a compact and intensely serious small creature. Black fur. Amber eyes that were currently assessing them. The leaf was still on his head. He did not appear to know this. No one told him.
"Hello," he said, with great suspicion.
"I'm Wēn Jìng. We've come to visit Thousand Fang. This is Zhāo Yàn, and this—" she gestured at Han Shān, who had risen to his feet and was brushing dirt from his knees, "—is Han Shān."
The panther cub stared at the at Han Shān.
"You're a snow leopard," the panther cub announced, as if that wasn't obvious.
"Yes."
"From the peaks."
"Yes."
"You smell like snow."
"It's where I live."
The panther cub's nose wrinkled. "I don't like snow."
