Chapter 3 Lyle brought his head up to meet the greeny-yellow eyes that faced him. They weren't like the panthers, however - these eyes were sharper, more focused. The owner of the eyes held out his hand. "Atticus, by the way."
The man's penetrating gaze broke into an uneasy smile as he saw Lyle's expression.
"Panther boy?! What do you...do you...what do you mean by that?!" Lyle stumbled over his words, trying to keep calm but clearly failing. If someone found out what had happened then he had a big problem on his hands.
"Relax! Just calm down, I'll explain everything." Atticus' voice was patronising, but strangely calming. He took Lyle's shoulder and guided him to a spot nearer the end of the meadow, where they were more hidden from view. "Let's talk."
The stopped, surrounded by trees. Before the man spoke, Lyle had a chance to examine him. He was tall and slender, with almost perfect features. He donned a black blazer that accompanied a white shir
Chapter 2. It wasn't late when Lyle got up. He'd never fallen asleep. His night was spent trying to figure out what had happened, whether he'd really turned into a panther. It had all happened so fast. He vividly remembered looking down to see his vast paws, and pouncing on that man, but he held no memory whatsoever of how he got to be like that. Or how he changed back, for that matter.
And what had happened to the man? There had been blood. Lots of blood. He'd jumped on the man in a sort of frenzy, his usually cautious attitude suddenly thrown away. The girl had ran away, probably more scared of him than she had been of the man. At least she was safe. He struggled to remember before that, to try and piece it all together. He remembered a pair of yellow eyes.
They were like my eyes, when I looked in my reflection. Panther eyes. Which means there must have been another panther around, before I turned. But why? Why did it all happen?
Chapter 1. It was late when Lyle woke up. Morning still, but later than it should have been. Lyle sat up in bed, yawning, and lazily flicked on the radio, something he always did first thing in the morning. Adjusting the white noise to something more audible, he yawned again. Lyle never really was a morning person. In fact, he wasn't an afternoon person either. It was at night when Lyle really felt alive. He'd stay up all night, training, listening to music, more training... probably why he could never get up early enough.
"And that was Florence Weatherby from our local gardening club."
Lyle sighed. Local radio never was what it was cracked up to be. He went to change stations, but something stopped him.
"And in other news, a panther has been spotted in the area. Residents are warned to stay in busy, urban areas and to keep out of fields, woods, and other open, isolated places. The panther is small and black, and has been spotted in several differen