Moving silently, I leap from branch to branch until I’m positioned above her. From this close, I can see the delicate curve of her jawline, the way her dark lashes fan across her cheeks. Her lips are slightly parted, and there’s something unexpectedly captivating about the way she looks so serene despite sleeping in a tree. The photograph I found in her bedroom doesn’t do her justice; she’s genuinely beautiful in a way that makes me pause longer than I should. I’m close enough to touch her when she suddenly stirs.
Her eyes snap open, and she strikes without warning, a knife flashing toward me. But I’m already moving, disappearing into the leaves before her blade can connect.
The sudden movement sends her tumbling from the branch. She hits the ground hard with a pained grunt, the cat leap
