Page 17 of Beasts of Mine

“Evie?” Mara asked, and when I dragged my attention back toward her, she was watching me with a slight crease between her eyebrows. “You all right?”

“Fine,” I answered Mara, forcing my face into something resembling normal while I lifted my mug. “Just tired enough that I'm apparently staring at walls now.”

Mara glanced behind herself.

The gecko remained perfectly still.

She lies badly, the gecko commented, its tiny throat moving as it continued watching me.

I brought the coffee to my mouth before I accidentally answered it. The first hot swallow helped. Not enough, but it was a start.

“Take this morning easy,” Mara advised, gathering her papers into a neater stack while she studied me over the rim of her mug. “You've got six weeks here. You don't need to photograph the entire rainforest before Friday.”

“I know,” I told Mara, reaching toward the plate of toast because I could already tell she was going to watch until I ate something. “I was planning on staying around the shorter trails today anyway.”

Mara narrowed her eyes.

“You said something similar yesterday before wandering off,” Mara reminded me, tapping one finger against the side of her mug.

“I came back,” I pointed out to Mara, biting into the toast as casually as I could manage.

“You also came back later than you were supposed to,” Mara corrected, although the corner of her mouth twitched slightly. “Try being boring today. Just once.”

“I'll see what I can do,” I promised Mara, smiling around another bite of toast when she shook her head.

After breakfast, I returned to my room long enough to organize the equipment I wanted to carry.

I should have been thinking about work. Instead, every few minutes my attention drifted back toward the forest. The events of yesterday hadn't become any easier to believe after sleeping on them. I still remembered the tayra trapped in the snare, the impossible clearing, the nature spirit standing where an injured animal had been only moments before, and the warm pressure of two fingers against my forehead.

Then the macaw.

Especially the macaw.

I had considered telling Mara what happened.

That idea lasted approximately five seconds.

There was no version of that conversation that ended well.

Hey, Mara, just so you know, I followed an injured tayra off the trail yesterday, discovered magic is real, met some sort of ancient forest spirit, and now the wildlife talks to me.

At best, she would think I'd gotten heatstroke. At worst, I would be on a boat headed back toward civilization before lunch. So until I figured out exactly what had happened to me, I was keeping it to myself.

That became much harder the moment I stepped outside. Morning wildlife surrounded the station. A pair of small birds argued above one of the roofs. Several insects communicated in brief impressions I could understand without anything resembling actual words. Something hidden beneath thick leaves complained about hunger, while another animal somewhere farther away announced repeatedly that a particular patch of fruit belonged to it.

I stood near the bottom of the porch steps, listening.

It was overwhelming, but not in the painful way it had been when the spirit first touched me. If anything, it reminded me of standing inside a crowded restaurant and suddenly realizing I could understand every conversation happening around me. I didn't have to focus on all of them, but training myself not to listen was proving difficult.

A small brown bird landed on the railing beside me and tilted its head.

Hair-nest woman, the bird chirped, examining the messy knot at the back of my head with far too much interest.

I touched my hair self-consciously.

“Okay, that's the second comment I've gotten about my hair this morning,” I muttered to the bird, keeping my voice low as I glanced toward the station to make sure no one was nearby. “I'm beginning to feel judged.”

The bird gave a quick flutter of its wings before disappearing toward the trees.