EPILOGUE

There was something slightly provocative, or at least disturbing on that exhibition. People walked through the panels where hung large photographs of vivid, strong and above all warm colors. They were attracted by these images, their color, for people and animals portrayed there. Some photos seemed to have a hypnotic effect.

"Did he use filters here?" - One of the visitors asked the exhibition's curator, who actually only represented the photographer who has never had direct contact with, through the agency.

"No. No filters. No special effects. It is the true light. "- The curator explained, as well as other technical issues. There was the promise of a huge following around that exhibition, which was the first solo of that artist. He had already been exposed before, but in collectives.

"But what are these places?" - Another person asked, pointing to landscapes that seemed to got stopped in time. One was the vision of a distant town, white as chalk against a dark rock in the foreground and the back head of a cheetah guarding the village through a rocky terrain.

There was no answer for that, or explain to who were those peculiar faces, the most penetrating eyes, or what made so many animals together. Especially the cats. Some were obviously travel photographs, but others had a more private and even intimate feeling. As one of them, where they mostly had an intensely red and dark floor.

"Who is this person?" - One more question for which the curator had no response at all unless a neutral shrug.

In the photograph, between the huge and completely black silhouette of a panther, and the intense yellow of a cheetah, lying together on the floor, had the entire outline of the white and naked torso of a very young man sleeping among the animals, a bare thigh resting over the panther on a huge contrast. That was a discreet picture, but guessing the form of a young man who slept with the same tranquility of animals, that was the part which aroused an enormous discomfort and curiosity in the viewers.

"It's a circus." - Someone said, acknowledging another photo that could be the edges of the ring.

No one questioned the finding. It could be a circus anywhere in the world, but they still hadn't seen anyone mixing with the beasts as if he also was one.

Another picture: the same young man who slept between the cheetah and the panther, seemed to have just woken up and faced the camera with lazy eyes, his face almost completely obscured by major panther which rested its head on his pale chest. The blue of his eyes was strange, a pale color which looked like glowing in the mustard-colored light that prevailed in the photo, and contrasted with the dark hair, half fallen on his forehead.

"But ... It is the trainer? "- The question was natural. No one would venture that way, acting as naturally in animals, to the point of sleeping with them.

"Who knows?" - Commented another. - "But not even a trainer would approach much like that of beasts ... But if they feels like this... is not it? "

"Look at this picture!" - Someone pointed to a picture which stood out on display, remaining alone in the panel in the middle of the gallery.

The photograph showed two young men, who were under a huge tree, whose gnarled and dry branches pointed to the sunset sky tinted with red and golden hues. The landscape was barren, almost a desert. The tree branches were decorated with soft red ribbons, which flickered in the wind, like the hair of the two young people. Both were sitting on the rocks surrounding the tree. One was the same young man who was asleep between the cats on the other photo. The other appeared to be older, and was sitting a little above the other, both in profile, staring at the horizon with the same calm expression. They had some common features, especially the eyes. No one could look at those eyes directly. It was as if viewers were not watching two human beings but were facing predators in the wild.

Despite the inhospitable landscape, the two seemed perfectly integrated to it, were part of that distant universe.

"This one. It is the artist author of the exhibition. "- Spoke the curator, pointing to what would be the older of the two. - "Actually, there is no another picture of him. So I'm saying this in the realm of guesswork. "

There was a silent agreement among the small group, almost forming a view of the lack of response about those two. Besides being quite young, not an exact age could be said to them, nor give them an accurate description. They seemed as much a part of the entire environment of the photo that the image could have come out any time. One day, a year, a century, a millennium. Perhaps the most disturbing feeling awakened by that look which rested in the horizon was to realize that they might have been there since the dawn of the world, as part of it, immortals in their own way.

"They looks like panthers." - Someone shyly suggested.

The curator felt a so atrocious discomfort that she hardly dared raise her eyes again to the picture, although it worked an irresistible attraction to her, and seemed to affect almost all of them in the gallery. She had never thought what those two were in the picture resembled, but the suggestion of the visitor responded to that question.

"Yes. They does. "- The curator blinked. She did not know how that statement and her own words were close to the truth. - "Maybe it's what they really are."

XXXXXXXXXX

They could be enjoying those games for hours with no end. That was their favorite place. Stacked on top of the folded canvas, covered with a thick pile carpet, hot dipped in the darkness, striped by the sun's rays entering the old and pitted canvas. That was what should be the storage, a place where anyone by them went, especially when they were alone.

They were drenched in sweat, agitated by the cruel heat of the summer in that region. The relentless sun scorched the land, so as to affect them deeply. Everything in it had the power to make them closer to the wild and moved even more by the instinct sharpened by that stuffy atmosphere. The touch of their shivered, bristling and sweated skin, the smell of each other getting mixed with the scent of sex, filling the room dark.

"When will you get tired?" - Paul finally stood up on his elbows, and then in the hands. Sweat ran down his chest, the skin all stirred up, like Iren's own skin, who refused to get separated of him, they still were deeply attached.

Iren just wrapped his arms around his neck, still astride his lap, moving only to ensnare Paul's waist with the legs. They were still shaking by what they just did.

"It's your fault." - He moaned hoarsely, biting Paul's shoulder. - "I was never like this."

"Don't blame me for the stupid things you do when I'm not around." - There was a hint of anger in Paul's voice. - "I didn't forget what you did."

"Shut up!" - Iren bit harder.

The pain and surprise made Paul jump, and his immediate reaction was to stick the nails on Iren's back, leaving red gashes in the white skin. Iren broke free from his brother's shoulder, arching his back in a way unusual for a human, with a cry of both pain and pleasure, which reverberated throughout his body in a strong shudder. Paul did not drop Iren, causing him to remain glued to it, making clear his dominance.

"Don't bite me!" - Paul hissed, not really angry. He raised Iren waist, pulling him toward him and then rolled the hips against him in a long and steady pace. - "What is still missing for you?"

Iren said nothing, his whole body shook with each new blow, slow, moved only by swaying hips of both, starting over, or just continuing what they refused to stop. Paul's arms wrapped around Iren's waist, pulling it together so that the blows were short, but very deep, his mouth opening on Iren's neck in a sequence of soft and hungry bites.

"I want to leave here soon ... It's like you're in heat ...!" - He muttered, gasping, muted by Iren's mouth on his, in a deep and unabashedly kiss. A stronger bite on his lip made Paul give another leap. - "We gonna die if we continue like this ...!"

"I said you to shut up!" - Iren was especially angry, almost fierce. His nails are sunk on the shoulders of Paul as he relaxed more to him, feeling his thrusts gain strength, and responded by moving his hips to go with him. - "That's all ..."

"My fault?"

"Damn!" - Iren sobbed, pressing harder against Paul, who raised this time to throw him on the carpet and move harder, stroking him deeply. The skin of both glistened with sweat, flushed up beneath the scratches. - "... Paul ...!"

Iren seemed choking, breathing deeper and loud, the tensed thighs around Paul, squeezing him, closing his hands behind his back, blows strongest shaking his entire body, but when his mouth opened, was a kiss what silenced his cry. Silenced the cry of both, which only became a long and confused grunt, mixed with the sound of their breathing.

They were together for a long time, yet united, very sweaty and feverish. Slowly, after a long time, Paul stood up again, kneeling, Iren still straddled on his hips, lying on the carpet, looking at him with lazy and shiny eyes, dark hair mixed with the pattern underneath.

Undoubtedly, Iren didn't know how good the time and that place were doing for him. Paul could hardly take his eyes out of him, his brother lying on some force that attracted and frightened. Never mind that he remained more reserved and even suspicious. Iren was irresistible.

"You're looking at me as if you want to devour me." - He observed, noting Paul's glance all over his naked body, still lying under him. The response was just Paul's hand running on his sweated stomach, going up to Iren's neck and down, spreading the drops of semen still hot after the last time they made love. And during that day were many.

The rifle shot that pierced Iren's chest, after a few months left only a plain white scar over the skin, as well as on his backs. If there was any difference in the rest ...Iren was slimmer since that time, in a way that made Paul remember a little the vision of Irena in his own dream. And Iren had in his eyes now, more than ever, a challenge that was not there when they met.

"And you look at me as if you lived hungry." - Paul whispered, leaning over Iren, kissing him and separating from him. However he remained with him, lying next him. They had done so from the beginning, it was a natural movement they staying so close together, enjoying one another's skin, Iren's head on his shoulder and his body between Paul's arms, on that trembling sound of when they were happy, purring together one for the other.

"Maybe I am." - Iren's hand patted on Paul's stomach, up through his chest to caress his neck. It was when the panther inside Paul became a big cat, gentle and sweet. At least for him. - "Are you still angry ...?"

"For what?" - Paul's voice stopped that intense purring that trembled in his chest. Iren seemed to have learned which buttons to press to leave him unable to get annoyed at anything.

Iren came closer, almost on top of him, passing one thigh over Paul's hip and propping on one elbow. He had begun to experience a heady sense of power when he was with Paul. He was able of anything, without fear, without shame, without remorse. What was between them was natural, inevitable ... and beautiful.

"... For me ... and Adrian. "- That was the first time in all that time they spoke openly about the involvement of Iren and Adrian. Paul was not stupid, and knew very well that things crossed the line between them, much more than in just one meaning.

Paul kept his gaze over the bumpy old canvas and a half, spending several moments in silence. Iren just waiting for an answer, his head resting on his brother's shoulder, the hand walking slowly by the body of the other.

"There's no point brooding over it. Leave it behind. "

"... What if ..." - Iren sighed, either from exhaustion, and the preparation that he wanted to deal with that issue.

"If?" - Paul asked Iren, with a little more of energy in his tone.

"His body was never found. What if ... he had survived? It is a ... possibility. "- Iren continued with his hand stroking the broad chest of Paul down as he spoke, his voice hoarse and lazy way. He remembered the injury itself, which had been a fatal shot and instantly would kill a normal human being. And yet Iren recovered very quickly and almost without side effects.

"A possibility that you love." - Paul turned a wary eye for Iren, speaking low and slowly, which was not always a good sign. - "And to think I was sad for his death ... If he's alive, this time I will make sure that nothing will be left of him for not even a possibility. "

"But ... Do you believe ... that?"

At this point, Paul remembered the dream of the desert. He remembered the large leopard joining his mother and uncle who were in the form of panthers, while guarding the reddish horizon. It was more than mere sight of a glance, but Paul knew that the leopard was Adrian. But Iren was also in the same dream ...

"No."

"You speak with such certainty. Is there anything that I don't know? Or should not know? "

Paul stood up, sitting on the carpet. Iren realized through the darkness, the eyes of his brother changed his tone, and a sharp brightness radiated from them.

"There is nothing, Iren. But if you doubts, feel free to leave and seek what you should find what is the truth. "- Paul leaned over to pick up the jug of wine that was nearby. It was one of the few ways to mitigate the heat, very sweet wine of that region, served with chopped fruit. He has served and made a sweeping gesture. - "As if I was able to stop you from anything."

"I didn't say that."

"And what if it were otherwise?" - Paul Iren looked over the glass. His eyes were between green and blue, but little light that seemed threatening, and not as sweet a moment before.

Iren felt a wave of heat rising around his neck, pure rage just imagining it. He advanced suddenly and Paul in an attack too fast for a human being, with wrists firmly secure.

"You don't dare!" - Iren hissed, looking at him deep into the eyes, still pushing against that grip on his wrists. Paul wasn't hurting him, but that simple idea of having a rival made him furious. He was perfectly able of killing anyone who crossed between them. - "Don't play with it ... And don't you dare insinuate that again! "

Paul let out a long, low growl of warning, he found an echo in Iren, who also snarled at him as he drew closer, half in defiance, anger and jealousy, giving rise to a violent arousal in both. That Iren who bowed the head and licked over Paul's lips, what made that sound of thunder slowing.

Iren wrapped his arms around Paul's neck, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Paul in turn, encircled him by the waist, pressing against him. Everything about them was too intense, too violent, it was something far beyond any logical explanation. They couldn't stay away one from each other, even if they wanted.

Paul shuddered as he felt Iren's lips up the curve of his neck, sliding to the face and ending up in your mouth, a lewd, greedy kiss. When they realized they were already rolling on the carpet overturned, Iren over Paul, sitting on his hips, legs spread to involve the other's body, sliding his manhood against his wet stomach. They would have started all again if had not been an insistent roar echoing by the deposit. Iren still wanted to continue, to insist, but the roars from the outside were demanding. Paul then sighed and held Iren, turning and lying on the mat, standing over him.

"It's better go see what she wants." - Iren gestured a little disappointed, but with his experience, he knew when an animal was hungry. That was more like a cry than a roar. In fact a complaint.

"It seems to be just acting spoiled." - Paul stood up lazily, pulling on some clothes and helping Iren to stand up as well.

"No. She is hungry." - He was sure. Iren put on jeans that were dumped on the ground, almost missing the stifling heat of the deposit. By seeing how late of the day that was outside, he almost did not believe. It was beyond the mid-afternoon. That meant that he was a whole day locked up with Paul?

They were attached to the shed, where there was a cage of reasonable proportions. Actually it was the cage training of adult animals, but what was complaining was little more than a cub. A small female Siberian tiger, almost all white and very fuzzy appearance, which was silent when she saw Paul.

"Cindy" - Paul called her, approaching the grid to let her smell his hand.

"I told you to stop calling her that!"

"Why? Will you make mincemeat out of this Cindy too? "

Iren punched on Paul's arm. They shouldn't be playing with certain issues. Anger made his face blush even more, which strangely made him less wild and more adorable. Iren then felt the kick of the tiger on his arm, which advanced against the cage. Actually she didn't hurt him, just scratch it lightly. Iren growled angrily to the kitten, which rolled over to Paul, extending a paw to him, playing like a house pet.

"And are you still amused? If this ... Plague was an adult, I assure you it would not be as much fun. "- Iren complained when saw Paul was laughing at him, holding the cub's paw with one hand, and with the other scratched her jaw. - "When will they send her to another circus?"

"I can't believe you're jealous of Cindy." - Paul now was scratching the white belly of the tiger, which rolled along the sawdust. - "As soon as we arrived in Barcelona. A representative will get her. "- He had sat in the sawdust, and the baby came rubbing her head on his arm, stopping only to throw a loud growl for Iren.

"Didn't I say? She hates me. "

"It's not my fault if she thinks I'm the handsome brother..." - Paul smiled that big smile full of teeth. Half threatening, but beautiful in his own way. - "I'll feed her. Because it is very likely that you put poison on her food. "

"This isn't a bad idea ..." - Iren murmured as he watched Paul walk away and the little tigress put her head out of the grid, to accompany him. His anger only increased when they found themselves alone and the tiger started to growl at him, trying to intimidate him. - "I should make mincemeat out of you, Cindy ... As I did to the other Cindy! "- He whispered angrily to her, who flinched.

"Iren, I heard that!"

XXXXXXXXXX

The movement on the circus was big. It would be the last appearance in that city, and many were already doing the cleaning and preparing equipment. The other day, they would take off for Barcelona, and wouldn't soon return to the region. Iren and Paul decided to escape some of that routine, going out quietly. Paul was carrying the keys of a small truck. They took the car and left, until they reach the limits of the quiet town, which was not so big, although the movement of tourists made it full of life, enjoying the scorching climate of the Mediterranean by that time.

They had already traveled almost all over of Europe, met the most diverse places along their new itinerant life of a raw simplicity, which however seemed to best fit the character of the two. Life without walls, without boundaries ... and kind of oblivious to any law.

But that place in particular, still guarded in its surroundings something very remote ancestor, with its arid landscape and wild. It was as if time had stopped there. The sun was already beginning to decline on the horizon, making the environment get warm tones of winning gold and red, as if everything was wrapped in a brazier. The clouds accompanied the time, dressing in lighter shades ranging from orange to purple. The landscape might seem disappointing to some people but not for them. Were feeling at home, although it was the first time they were there. Their eyes roamed the horizon, curious, fascinated. The same feeling that each had in their dream, and they both kept within him that uncanny experience. One never told the other what they saw.

Iren closed his eyes, feeling the wind hit his face, his dark hair. He breathed deeply, aware of the smell of the wind, every nuance of the fragrance of dry grass, the smell of laurel. He wanted to absorb and carry this hostile atmosphere, before they go. Not yet understand why he did not walk in that place before. It was as if only now could discover it all. The vehicle left the road and entered into a dirt road, kicking up dust along the way. A few minutes later they were there.

They knew it was the place, even if they had not said anything. There was an unspoken consensus between the two, they should stop there. Each for their own reasons, his eyes stuck in that whole scene at once strange and familiar, plucked from the bottom of the earliest memories of their kind. That place was a piece of them.

The great and twisted bare tree reigned supreme among the rocks and one of the branches sat a white goat which had died recently. Fine strips of red cloth were tied to the branches, like long ribbons, dancing, following the wail of the significance of this peculiar custom was maintained over a long time, perhaps millenniuns. It was so old that the real meaning of that devotion had been lost over the years. Some of those red ribbons were old, while others seemed to have just been tied there, but all kept their color.

They need not say anything, so aware of each other that each one went his own wind lifted the sand in gusts, and Paul walked slowly, advancing along the rocks, passing his hand over the surface of the stone until he found the same slot of his dream. It was worn by time, almost gone, but it was there. Further, the cave entrance, the smell of wet, cold and mineral. He continued watching the darkness of the cave, tried to enter but not daring, though it was empty and silent. The very Irena said he could not stay.

At the same time, Iren wandered slowly around the tree, as if searching for something. There were no footprints in the sand, and even the smell of any animal unless the dead kid goat. His first impulse was to climb that tree, perching on one of the branches and stay there forever.

Iren had in his mind the memories of his own dream. He understood what he was looking for, what was missing for everything to be just as had always been. He sproud his hands on the rough bark, finding the marks of sharp claws that were there for so long. Thoughtlessly, he scratched deep in the wood, and an intense and sweet smell of camphor filled the air.

The smell seemed to awaken something in him, and had the same power over Paul, who followed him. In the same cool slowly, Iren sat on the rocks, looking at the horizon. From where he could see the white houses and irregular nearby village, the small rocky ridge. Iren shivered when Paul sat near him, and inadvertently let out a long low growl, a roar that came from his chest. Paul ended up doing the same, attached to the same tension. They weren't alone.

That kid goat was willing in the branches like a ready dinner at the table, waiting for guests. It was clear that someone was waiting for them, maybe there was a long time, and was also attracted by the scent of the tree, because now approached in a slow pace, rising from the bustle of reddish sand, bit by bit color standing out in a intense yellow, and covered with black rose shapped spots. Winding paths, a huge leopard approached them, the muzzle still wet with blood, as well as the legs.

Paul slowly passed an arm around Iren, who allowed himself to be enbraced and leaned the back against his brother's chest. And the leopard ... He came to lie beside them, putting his head over Iren's lap, facing him with the same recognition in the light and yellow eyes.

There they were all the same. Three of the same species. Paul. Iren. And... Someone else that they surely didn't expect to see again ... They stared placidly at the horizon, the wary eyes on the small town. The sun was sinking slowly through the hills, casting its golden light and warmth about them warm. It was the same sun that saw the birth of their race, saw the children of that species get lost in the ways of the world, and now saw them returning, meeting one another again.

Under that scented tree, even for a brief moment, they were once again the gods who had once been, and as such brought with it the promise of eternity in their blood, as well as the burning dust of that landscape that also was a part of them, as a flow of life and death ... Irreversible.