Weaving through the jungle, inkspots against gold fur. Her enormous paws are silent as she pads along a fallen tree. We bathe in the light of the moon as her fur merges into raven hues. She is a chameleon, camouflaged into dense emerald foliage. Coiling her body around mine, we are a spiral of creation. Remaining still on the jungle floor, her penetrating gaze faces me, while around us the forest dances and sings.
