A black shadow dropped into the circle. It was Buffer the Black Panther, inky black all over, but with the panther markings showing up in certain lights like the pattern of watered silk. Everybody knew Buffer, and nobody cared to cross his path, for he was as cunning as Abacus, as bold as the wild buffalo, and as reckless as the wounded elephant. But he had a voice as soft as wild honey dripping from a tree, and a skin softer than down.

The Jungle Books