Page 19 of Beasts of Mine

“That isn't as reassuring as you think it is,” Mara replied, folding her arms as she watched me move toward the door.

I paused with one hand against the frame.

“I'll be careful,” I promised Mara, giving her a more serious look this time.

“Good,” Mara answered, some of the tension leaving her shoulders as she nodded toward the trail. “Because I don't want to explain to your emergency contact that you got eaten on your second day.”

“I'd also prefer to avoid that paperwork,” I told Mara, earning a reluctant laugh before I stepped outside.

The animals led me almost the entire way. I tried to pretend they weren't. That became impossible after the third time I reached a turn and some creature above me announced which direction the injured predator was in.

Water way, a capuchin called from somewhere overhead, its weight shaking thin branches as it moved.

“I know where the creek is,” I muttered to the monkey, stepping over an exposed root while keeping my pace steady.

Not that water, another monkey corrected from farther ahead.

I stopped and looked upward.

“You people could have mentioned that first,” I complained quietly to the unseen animals, earning several excited calls that may or may not have been laughter.

The north trail eventually descended toward a narrow creek that wasn't marked on the basic map Mara had shown me. Clear water moved over smooth brown stones, and thick ferns crowded both banks. Sunlight came through the canopy in scattered patches, reflecting off the surface whenever the leaves above shifted in the breeze.

The closer I came, the quieter the surrounding animals became. That bothered me more than the earlier alarm calls.

There, a small bird whispered from a branch above my left shoulder, its tiny body remaining perfectly still as it peered toward the far bank.

I followed its attention.

At first, I saw nothing.

Then a low growl traveled through the vegetation.

I stopped so quickly that one boot slid slightly against the damp soil. There was no mistaking that sound. My hand moved instinctively toward the radio, although I didn't pull it free yet. Beyond the creek, the earth rose beneath the exposed roots of an enormous tree. Ferns concealed most of the space underneath, but something golden moved behind them.

A large head lifted.

My breath caught.

Leopard.

For several seconds, the photographer in me nearly overpowered every other thought.

He was magnificent.

I'd photographed leopards before, but seeing one this close without a vehicle, hide, or substantial distance between us was completely different. He was larger than I expected, broad through the shoulders and heavily muscled beneath a tawny coat patterned with dark rosettes. His fur was damp in places, and mud streaked one side where he'd clearly been lying against the ground for some time.

Then I saw the blood. A dark red stain spread through the fur along his left side. One front leg rested at an unnatural angle—not broken, from what I could tell at this distance, but he was clearly avoiding putting much weight on it.

Concern shoved the instinctive awe aside.

“Oh, sweetheart,” I whispered to the leopard, keeping my body still as his golden-brown eyes settled on me. “What happened to you?”

His ears flattened.

Leave.

The voice was deep enough that my entire body went rigid. My boot slipped against one of the wet stones when I instinctively stepped backward, and I caught myself against a nearby trunk before I ended up sitting in the creek.