Page 139 of Beasts of Mine

“She knows I talk to animals constantly. She does not know they answer.” I ducked beneath another low branch, brushing a damp leaf away before it could drag across the camera hanging at my side.

“That seems difficult.” Tavian stepped around a thick root without slowing, moving over the uneven terrain with an ease that had me paying considerably more attention to my own footing.

“You have no idea. Especially because half of them have no concept of privacy.” I watched a small bird launch through the leaves overhead, its movement shaking loose several droplets that pattered onto the trail.

“That sounds useful.” Tavian smiled as though he had just discovered another benefit to my gift, amber eyes brightening with possibilities I absolutely did not trust.

“That is because you are exactly the kind of person who would encourage them.” I pointed toward Tavian without slowing, and his smile widened as he apparently decided that was a compliment.

The morning air was already thick enough that sweat gathered beneath the collar of my shirt within the first half hour. Tavian kept an easier pace than he normally would have, slowing whenever I paused to inspect tracks or lift my camera instead of trying to turn the route into a race. He barely seemed to notice the roots and muddy patches that forced me to watch every step, and more than once I caught him adjusting his pace without making a comment about it.

When the trail narrowed around a muddy section beside a steep drop, Tavian crossed first, tested the ground with one boot, and then turned to hold out his hand.

“I can do it.” I studied the safest place to put my foot before accepting Tavian’s hand anyway, because falling down a wet slope just to prove a point seemed ridiculous. His palm was warm and callused against mine, his stance steady on the slick ground.

“I know. Still like helping.” Tavian’s fingers closed securely around mine as he steadied me over the worst section, his grip firm without dragging me forward or trying to decide where my feet should go.

“That was suspiciously reasonable.” I released Tavian’s hand once both my boots were back on solid ground and brushed a streak of damp soil from the side of my pants, glancing at him as though I expected some hidden motive.

“I have layers.” Tavian pressed a palm briefly against his chest, looking far too pleased by the description as he stepped backward several paces.

“You have problems.” I corrected Tavian while starting down the trail again, stepping around a cluster of roots slick with moss.

“That too.” Tavian laughed as he bent to pick something up beside the path, turning the tiny object between his fingertips before straightening again with immediate interest.

“What did you find?” I asked Tavian as I slowed enough to look, pushing a damp strand of hair away from my cheek. Tavian opened his palm, revealing a perfectly round green seed, glossy enough to look polished and patterned with a faint darker line around one side.

“Keep it.” Tavian held the seed toward me, his teasing easing as he waited to see what I would do.

“What am I supposed to do with that?” I asked Tavian, glancing between his face and the tiny seed resting in his palm.

“Keep it,” Tavian repeated, moving his hand a little closer when I made no attempt to take it.

“Why?” I asked Tavian, still studying the little object while sunlight filtering through the canopy reflected off its smooth green surface.

“I found it.” Tavian looked down at the seed before returning his attention to me, delivering the answer as though the circumstances of discovery explained everything.

“That explains where it came from, not why you’re giving it to me.” I loosely crossed my arms, waiting to see whether he could produce an actual reason.

“It’s pretty.” Tavian considered the seed for another second before lifting his gaze to mine, and for once the usual joke was missing from his face. “So are you.”

I stared at him. Tavian continued holding the seed out, but a trace of uncertainty had crept into his face beneath the confidence.

“That was terrible.” I told Tavian, unable to keep the corner of my mouth completely still as I finally took the seed from his palm.

“You took it.” Tavian pointed toward my closed hand, the uncertainty disappearing as quickly as it had come.

“You were going to stand there holding it until sunset.” I slipped the seed into the open pocket of my field shirt, making sure it settled somewhere it wouldn’t fall out when I bent down.

“Still counts.” Tavian started walking again with a spring in his step. I laughed despite myself and followed. By the time we reached the first stream crossing, Tavian had also given me a striped pebble no bigger than the end of my thumb, a curled seed pod he insisted looked like a sleeping animal if I turned it sideways, and one bright red leaf with no explanation beyond the fact that he had liked it. None of them were useful, yet every one remained tucked into one of my pockets instead of being dropped back onto the forest floor.

A jacamar gave me the first photograph worth stopping for. The bird sat on a narrow branch above the stream, its long bill angled toward the water while iridescent green feathers flashed whenever it shifted beneath the broken sunlight. I crouched near a buttress root, braced one elbow against my knee, and adjusted the lens while Tavian stopped several feet behind me without needing to be told.

Again, the jacamar complained from the branch, turning its narrow head toward the camera while its claws tightened briefly around the bark.

“You know me?” I whispered to the jacamar, keeping the camera lifted and my movements slow while I adjusted the focus around the bird’s dark eye.

People with eyes. Always looking, the jacamar complained as it shifted farther along the branch, its green feathers briefly disappearing against the leaves before flashing again beneath the sunlight.