The cat reacted in shock, the unexpected recovery of the hominid, from what seemed like deep sleep, surprising him to the point of near shock.
The cat froze in place, its own eyes staring into the dark, shiny and unblinking eyes of the human. The meatball was forgotten.

“It’s up to you,” the boy breathed out, his words soft, but also forced. The cat was a substantial animal and a predator of some renown. The boy knew he wasn’t the cat’s preferred prey, but he also knew that he was no contest for the cat, not without some distance between them and a good grip on his hunting spear. The spear was only a hand’s length away, but the boy made no move for it. The big round and unblinking eyes of the cat allowed for no movement at all.

The cat stared for what seemed like an eternity. The cat’s tail swished twice during the minutes of full scrutiny. Finally, the cat blinked once, very slowly.
The boy somehow knew, from the single long blink, that the cat was not going to attack, although he could not say why. It was true that the boy wasn’t natural prey for the great predator, as it was also true that by bodyweight there was no comparison. If the cat wanted to attack, being so very close, the boy would have no chance of survival, and he knew it.