Page 7 of Beasts of Mine

There was something relaxing about speaking when no answer was expected.

Farther down the trail, leafcutter ants crossed the path in a steady line, each carrying a piece of greenery larger than its body. Butterflies gathered around a patch of wet soil, their wings opening and closing while they fed. A group of capuchins moved through the branches high above me, making enough noise that I heard them before I spotted them.

One paused on a low branch.

I brought the camera up slowly.

“I'm not bothering you,” I assured the capuchin, keeping my voice soft as it watched me from above. The monkey wrapped one hand around the branch and continued observing me.

“I just want one picture,” I told the capuchin, adjusting the camera as a patch of sunlight moved across its face.

The monkey scratched under one arm.

“Very dignified,” I murmured to the animal, amusement pulling at my mouth as I managed two quick photographs before it followed the others deeper into the canopy.

I checked my watch sometime later and realized I had stayed out longer than I'd intended. The light had changed beneath the trees. It wasn't dark yet, but the brighter patches were fading as the afternoon moved on.

“All right, Evie. Five more minutes, then back to the station,” I told myself, adjusting the strap across my chest while knowing perfectly well I'd made that same promise in more countries than I could count.

A metallic scraping sound came from somewhere off the trail.

I stopped.

The rainforest was filled with noises I didn't recognize yet, but metal scraping against something hard stood out immediately.

I waited.

A bird called several times behind me. Insects continued their steady noise. Then leaves thrashed through the vegetation to my left, followed by another scrape and a short cry.

My hand dropped from the camera.

Whatever made that sound was hurt.

I turned toward the trail marker tied around the nearest tree. Mara had been very clear about staying on the paths while I was alone, and she had good reason. In vegetation this dense, getting turned around didn't require much effort.

Another strained cry came from beyond the trail.

Quieter this time.

“Damn it,” I muttered, securing my camera against the harness over my chest before reaching into my pack for the small medical kit I carried in the field.

The responsible thing would have been to call the station.

I knew that.

But a trapped animal could make an injury significantly worse while struggling, and the weakening cries made waiting feel impossible.

“I'm coming,” I called toward the hidden animal, pushing aside a broad wet leaf as I carefully stepped away from the trail. “Just try not to hurt yourself any worse before I get there.”

The vegetation thickened almost immediately. Leaves brushed my arms and left streaks of cool water against my skin. Thin branches caught at my pants, while a vine managed to tangle itself into the end of my braid badly enough that I had to stop and work it loose.

Movement came from ahead again.

“Easy,” I murmured to the unseen animal, lowering my voice as I stepped around a massive exposed root. “I'm not trying to scare you.”

Then I saw the wire.

I stopped.