Chapter 4: A Thief Stole His Kiss

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Raja . . . couldn't exactly explain how he was feeling. He was sure that when he arrived home back to the cave he had been born in, he would of felt better. He always knew that the cave would make him feel better, yet it didn't. Something was missing, and he knew exactly what it was. He convinced himself that he would be fine on his own, but after that encounter with him, he didn't know what to expect. The feeling of desire and need took over him like a tidal wave to his senses.

This boy by the name of "Noble" had obviously projected something in his brain. The sudden need of wanting to touch his soft, pale cheek was painful. The boy obviously wouldn't know how Raja was, would he? The villagers might just think that he was a traveler passing by. He wanted that to happen, but he didn't at the same time. He wanted that boy to recognize him as something important to him. Raja wanted to be that important something so very badly, he thought he was going crazy.

He couldn't describe the feeling he was holding in. Again, his vocabulary wasn't big enough to identify a lot of things. He knew what the inhabitants of the forest were called like "Birds" and "Rabbits". Some of the more brave animals would contact him with calls he understood. Even if he did look intimidating as his true self, he wasn't all that scary and cruel like the villages might have described him as.

Raja was so frustrated, and the rapid movement of his tail proved otherwise. He wanted to see this boy again, but how? What would he think of him when he runs up to him with little to no way to talk to him? Hoe would others react to his foreign appearance? Most of the villagers were pale since sunlight was a privilege, yet Raja was as tan as light bark of the trees outside his cave? Plus, his hair, in fact, his whole body, would be covered in white to signify his true color. His hair, his jacket, his pants, his shoes, his everything was white. His scarf, however, was red.

It was like an addiction to him. he just could not lower the scarf from his neck, and he would carry it around when he was a big cat again. It was completely obvious in the snow and against his white fur, but he didn't care. it smelled like cinnamon, and that's the only thing he cared for. It was worn by the boy he was just so oddly attracted to, which made it a holy artifact to him to worship.

So, Raja decided that he would go to the village, but stay in the shadows. He needed to see his grey-eyed boy before his mind went nuts. He stomped his paws against the ground to shake off the leftover snow from his mind-relaxing walk which didn't completely do its job right. he shook his whole body to get rid of the cold, condensing water from his light grey mane. he started to walk deeper into the cave when he spotted his little tote full of essentials.

At an early age, he would watch his older sister make bags made of deer leather, so their parents would be able to hold raw meat easily to bring back to the cubs. Raja was fascinated with her amazing skills, so he decided to make his own. She helped him, of course, and that's what made it special to him. The love and patience of his lost sister is what string that tied him and the dark, leather bag together.

Raja shifted into his normal human form with the same white jacket that always appeared no matter the situation. It was annoying at first, Raja growled, but soon got helpful as he aged. His bright cerulean blue orbs spotted the bright red coloring of a scarf, and he immediately wrapped it around his neck for comfort. Mmmm . . . Cinnamon Raja almost moaned at the scent but held it back. He didn't want to be too creepy now.

It was a slow day for Raja, as it was very early in the morning, so he decided to walk there on foot instead of paws. Yeah, it wasn't as fast as he was used to be traveling with, but it gave him to think to himself, even if he had enough of that, to begin with. He grabbed the strap of the tote bag and sling it over his broad shoulders with ease. Taking one deep breath in, he started his journey.

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