Definitely Kitty. Or, some kind of Kitty. The one Antony knew would have the knowledgeable caution to watch her step, and keep a better watch on her boys (and beasts), in this part of the jungle. And that was what brought it all into perspective-- the words that the animal-man pushed illogically together started to take on their unique kind of sense.
Antony shot a sidelong look over his shoulder at Wicked for her self-appointed title, wondering how many friends that would make her if she tried it in the village, but let her take advantage of the situation. A little bit of respect every once in a while did no harm. Then he stood, finally, to his full, vulnerable height with the cross bow in a loose arm at his side, hoping this show of trust would put an end to any further attack and make up for his preemptive strike. It was a bad habit, he was working on it. "You're here for the child," he recognized, not caring so much for their names or to share his. He didn't live out here for the good company.