The huntress clutched the amulet and slid through the opening she made, silently retreating into the jungle. She heard the humans cry out for one of their own called "Zach". She supposed his was the tent she had deigned to rest in. Perhaps he had gotten lost in the jungle like the stupid ape he was. The pantheress decided to bite out the oafish hominid's throat if she came across him. But hunting was not her priority. It was taking the amulet far from human lands and deep into the wilds.
The leopard-woman ran through the night. She so loved the feel of the loam beneath her paws and the cool night air against her fur. She could see better than by any torchlight and move across the dense terrain than any human could hope for. She covered well over a dozen miles that first night before climbing a tree to sleep in the dense boughs as morning broke across the jungle. The nocturnal creature slept soundly, dreaming of thrilling hunts, of passionate rutting with a mate, of curling protectively around her cubs. The amulet was speaking to her through these dreams. Foretelling of her future, should she seek to claim it.
The she-cat rose as the sun set. She found a pool of water and graciously lapped up her fill. Then she was off again, her only direction being into the deepest, wildest regions of the rainforest. She covered thirty miles that night. Then twenty-five the next.
The fourth night, hunger bade her to put off travel. She could smell that she was in another cat's territory. A jaguar, a male. She was a leopard, and two-legged at that! But she was female, and a cat all the same. Male cats of any kind were more forgiving of females in their territory.
A scent filled her nostrils. Heady. Nervous. A prey animal. She dropped down to all fours to reduce her silhouette and distribute her weight evenly. With her fully feline head, flicking tail and dappled coat, she could've been mistaken for a full-blooded leopard. The huntress glided through the underbrush with nary a sound, so low that her breasts tickled against the leaf litter. Her whiskers felt the subtle changes in the air telling her she was downwind. Her ears flicked at the sounds of rooting, of grunting.
She spotted her prey before her. A tapir, alone. Foolish animal. It was completely unaware of her, back to her as it rooted around for tender shoots. Inch by inch, the leopard-woman prowled closer to her prey.
The tapir's head jerked up suddenly. The huntress froze. With a fluting squeal, the tapir bounded off down the game trail. The huntress was confounded. Her technique had been perfect! She moved to give chase when a rustle made her stop. She realized she wasn't the one who had startled the tapir. She rose back up on two feet as the newcomer emerged.