Page 18 of Beasts of Mine

I sighed and adjusted the strap of my camera. This was definitely going to take some getting used to. I started toward one of the shorter survey trails when a burst of frantic voices broke through the ordinary chatter.

The change was immediate enough that I stopped.

Several birds flew out of the canopy ahead of me.

Blood.

The sharp warning came from somewhere high in the trees.

Hurt hunter.

Another voice joined the first, this one from farther toward the north trail.

Spotted one hurt.

My fingers tightened around the strap across my chest. A capuchin moved quickly through the branches beyond the equipment building, leaves shaking as it passed.

Big cat by water, the monkey called, pausing long enough to look toward another animal farther ahead. Cannot hunt.

Another capuchin answered from deeper inside the forest.

Blood on ground. Bad leg.

For a moment, I remained where I was.

A spotted hunter.

A big cat.

There weren't many possibilities.

I turned toward the north trail before common sense caught up with me. Yesterday I had followed one injured animal into the rainforest and ended up being magically altered by a nature spirit.

Going running into the trees because monkeys told me something else was hurt seemed like exactly the sort of decision Mara had just warned me not to make.

Hurts, a bird called from the canopy, the urgency in the little animal's voice making my stomach tighten. Big hunter hurts.

“Damn it,” I muttered to myself, turning around and hurrying back toward the communal building. Mara was still at the table when I stepped inside, although she'd traded her breakfast for a radio and several maps spread across the wood.

“I heard something on the north trail that sounds injured,” I told Mara, crossing toward the shelving where I'd left part of my field equipment. “Something fairly large.”

Mara's head came up immediately.

“What kind of animal?” Mara asked, pushing her chair back while her attention followed me toward the medical supplies.

“I couldn't see it from where I was,” I answered Mara, which was technically true despite being a very creative interpretation of events. “But whatever it is sounded like it was in pain.”

Mara crossed the room and picked up one of the handheld radios near the door, her expression becoming much more serious.

“If it's a predator, don't approach it just because it's injured,” Mara warned, holding the radio out to me while keeping her eyes firmly on mine. “Pain makes animals unpredictable, and you don't have enough information yet to know what you're walking toward.”

“I know,” I assured Mara, taking the radio and clipping it to my pack before checking that my compact medical kit was still inside. “I'll look first. If it's something I can't safely deal with, I'll call you.”

Mara didn't release the radio immediately.

“Check in within an hour,” Mara instructed, finally letting go once I met her gaze. “And stay close to the north route unless you call first. I don't want to organize a search party because our photographer decided to wrestle a jaguar.”

“I have absolutely no intention of wrestling anything,” I told Mara, pulling the pack onto my shoulders while trying not to smile.