Page 35 of Beasts of Mine

I stopped so abruptly that the camera bumped lightly against my ribs.

“That was unnecessarily mean,” I told the capuchin, staring up at him with one hand gripping the camera strap while his expression remained completely confused.

What was mean? the capuchin asked, lowering his hand as his brow seemed to furrow in genuine puzzlement. I watched him for another second before accepting there had been no insult intended, which somehow made the whole thing worse.

“Never mind,” I told the capuchin, rubbing my lips together to keep from laughing as I turned back toward the trail and resumed walking.

Branches shifted overhead as he followed.

Do you want a mate? the capuchin asked, settling onto another branch directly above the trail with absolutely no concern for my attempt to end the subject. My boot caught the edge of a root because I wasn't paying enough attention to the ground, and I had to catch myself against the nearest tree. Damp bark pressed against my palm, leaving a faint smear of green moss against my skin as I steadied myself.

“What is happening today?” I muttered, brushing my hand against the side of my shorts while I checked that the camera hadn't taken the worst of my stumble.

I asked if you want a mate, the capuchin repeated, sitting back on his haunches as though the problem was simply that I hadn't heard him clearly enough.

“I heard you,” I told the monkey, adjusting the camera harness that had shifted when I stumbled while I tried to decide why I was seriously considering answering him. “And I don't know. Maybe someday.”

The capuchin studied me for several seconds, his dark eyes traveling over my face with an intensity that suggested he was working through a complicated problem.

You could choose spotted one, the monkey suggested at last, sounding pleased with himself as though he'd solved the entire issue.

I stared at him before a laugh escaped me so suddenly that I had to brace one hand against my knee. There was no helping it. The idea was ridiculous enough on its own, but the capuchin's confused expression only made the situation worse.

“No. I cannot choose the leopard as my mate,” I told the capuchin once I could speak normally again, wiping at the corner of one eye while a few lingering laughs still slipped through the words.

Why not? the monkey asked, leaning farther down from the branch as genuine confusion creased his small face.

“Because he's a leopard,” I explained to the capuchin, gesturing toward the deeper forest where the animal in question was probably sleeping beneath his usual roots.

Yes. A very good leopard, the capuchin agreed, blinking down at me as if he'd just strengthened his own argument.

“That's not what I meant,” I told the monkey, letting my hand fall to my side as I realized this conversation was going absolutely nowhere.

He's strong, the capuchin continued, sitting straighter and beginning to list qualities with the seriousness of someone I'd hired to find me a suitable partner.

“No,” I told the monkey, turning away and starting down the trail again before he could get any further.

He has good teeth, the capuchin added, following through the branches with enough enthusiasm that several leaves fluttered down behind me.

“I am painfully aware of his teeth,” I assured the monkey, ducking beneath a vine hanging across the path while one hand held my camera securely against my chest.

He's a good hunter, the capuchin continued, swinging onto the next branch without missing a beat.

“Still not relevant,” I told him, stepping onto a drier stretch of earth and resisting the urge to look up again.

And he likes you, the capuchin finished, his tone turning satisfied as though he'd finally reached the argument that should settle everything.

That made me slow despite myself. I looked up and found the monkey staring down at me as though he'd said something completely ordinary.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” I asked the capuchin, shifting my camera against my chest while an unexpected warmth curled beneath my ribs.

Because he does, the capuchin answered with a small shrug, one shoulder lifting almost humanly before something farther through the trees caught his attention. The monkey scrambled after whatever he'd spotted without another word, leaving me standing alone on the trail with nothing except the receding shake of branches overhead.

“That clears up absolutely nothing,” I muttered, although there was nobody nearby to appreciate the complaint.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the last animal to mention the leopard.

By midday, I'd heard about him from four different birds, two more monkeys, and something concealed so thoroughly in the undergrowth that I'd never managed to identify what species was speaking. Everyone knew I'd been spending my afternoons at the creek, and none of them seemed to understand why I considered that information private.