Three days until the festival.
The sun was high and the village was buzzing.
Cords were being woven. Gifts were being hidden. And somewhere, in a quiet corner of Thousand Fang, a small jaguar was being interrogated.
"You're always looking at her."
Tao Zi's ears went flat against his head. "I am not."
"You are," Yòu Lín said, sprawled on his stomach across a sun-warmed rock. His orange tail swished behind him like a metronome. "You look at her during meals. You look at her during games. You looked at her when she tripped over that root yesterday and you almost fell off the log trying to catch her."
"I was stretching."
"You don't stretch sitting down."
"I was stretching my neck."
"Your neck doesn't bend that way."
Tao Zi's jaw tightened. He stared at the ground. His dark curls fell across his face, hiding his expression.
