Once there was a beautiful black Panther, small-made but powerful, sleek of fur and lithe of body, who crept through the tall grass of the savanna. It was rutting time for the gazelles, and she hoped she might find a lone bachelor, give chase, and make a feast of him. But this day it was not a bachelor she found, but an older Stag. The Stag bucked and lunged, and tore at the earth with his beautiful curved antlers. The Panther watched, and at last perceived that the Stag's left hind leg was caught in the snare of a human hunter, and that the more the Stag bucked, the more tightly the snare held him.
"O poor fool," the Panther said, coming close to the Stag. "You have been snared, and your harem stolen away by an upstart young bachelor. They have left you here to your fate without a thought for you."
"Greetings, my lady," said the Stag. "I see you have come to feed. No closer, no closer ... my horns may gore your beautiful pelt."
"I thank you for your warning," the Panther replied ironically. "I will wait for you to tire of your struggle before I attempt to feed." And she lay down upon the grass and lazily groomed a paw.
"You are alone," the Stag said.
"I am a private creature," the Panther said, "and when I find something good, I do not like to share."
"I also do not like to share. The one who stole my harem ..."
"It is lucky for him you are so tethered?"
"It is lucky for him, indeed. I am a great warrior, and would easily win my ladies back from him."
"If only you were not tethered, and soon to be my feast."
"Not only am I a great warrior," said the Stag. "I am also a mighty lover."
"You would say so." The Panther yawned.
"It is true. My ladies did not willingly leave my side."
"You would say so."
"You disbelieve me? Very well. Allow me to make a proposal. Present yourself to me as if you were one of my own ladies, and I will make such love to you as you have never known."
The Panther laughed out loud. "Me? Rut with my dinner? Your fear of death has made you nonsensical."
"I will make such love to you as you have never known. And you, in gratitude, will afterwards use your sharp teeth and claws to free me."
"And not eat you?"
"And not eat me."
As it happened, the Panther was not unaware of the Stag's kòfẹ, which had been fully erect during the entire conversation. It was, she had to admit, a magnificent kòfẹ. As she contemplated it in light of the Stag's proposal, she felt not unpleasant stirrings in her obo. Perhaps there was something in the air. Or perhaps the audacious proposal came at the right moment, when she was not too hungry of belly and in want of amusement. For the thought of rutting with a gazelle did amuse her ... and titillate her.
"How do I know," asked the Panther, "that you will not gore me if I get close enough to present to you?"
"You have my word as a gentleman," replied the Stag. "The only goring you will get, my lady, will be from my third horn. And how do I know that you will not eat me if I please you?"
The Panther smiled. "You will have to please me first to find out."
And so, by and by, the Panther approached, her tail switching through the tall grass. And when she was near enough, she presented to the Stag, though every muscle in her body tensed to flee should he attempt to gore her.
Gore her he did, with his third horn, as he promised. The mounting was swift, the rutting fierce, and the Panther's cries rang out across the savanna ...
"I've got to get this mask off," Everett panted. "It's too heavy. It's getting in the way."
"Mine too," Shuri gasped.
The carved wooden masks dropped, forgotten, to the ground.
"How does the story end?" Everett asked, as they lay, exhausted, in each other's arms. "Does the Panther free the Gazelle, or does she eat him?"
"Mmm," Shuri said, snuggling closer. "Eat the mightiest lover she has ever known? She is not a fool, you know."