Page 34 of Beasts of Mine

The toucan regarded me for a moment as though the answer should have been obvious even to someone with my apparently limited understanding.

Because you're always sitting by him, the toucan replied, straightening another feather before turning his attention toward the berries again.

I waited.

He reached for the fruit.

Nothing else followed.

“So I smell like him because I sit near him?” I asked the toucan, lowering the camera completely against my chest as I tried to make sure I was actually following his logic.

And where he sleeps, the toucan added, stretching his neck toward another berry while his claws shifted against the branch.

I glanced down at my clothes and rubbed one hand over the front of my shirt. That was a much more practical explanation than I'd expected. I'd spent hours beneath the same roots where the leopard slept, leaning against the same wood and sitting on the same earth. It made sense that traces of his scent might transfer to me, especially to animals with senses far more sensitive than mine.

“Okay. That actually makes sense,” I told the toucan, some of the tension leaving my shoulders as I lifted my camera again.

You should sleep there more, the toucan suggested, selecting another berry from the cluster and holding it neatly in the end of his bill.

My camera dipped for the second time.

“What?” I asked the toucan, staring up at him as warmth immediately began crawling into my face.

You sleep better there, the toucan explained after swallowing his fruit, watching me with calm curiosity as though my reaction were the confusing part of the conversation.

“I fell asleep beside him once because there was a storm, and he's also a leopard,” I told the toucan, glancing down the empty trail even though nobody was nearby to overhear this increasingly strange conversation.

Yes, the toucan agreed, shifting one foot along the branch while his expression remained completely unchanged.

“An animal,” I clarified to the bird, lifting one hand in a helpless gesture because I couldn't believe this distinction needed to be explained.

So are you, the toucan pointed out, blinking slowly as if he'd just corrected a very simple misunderstanding. My mouth opened, but nothing came out for a moment because there was no useful way to argue with something that was technically true.

“I'm starting to hate how often animals are technically correct,” I told the toucan, exhaling through my nose as I decided the photography portion of our interaction had been considerably easier.

Maybe you're wrong a lot, the toucan suggested, reaching toward another berry without appearing remotely concerned about the insult he'd just delivered.

I stared up at him, caught somewhere between offense and amusement.

“That was rude,” I informed the bird, fighting the smile threatening to ruin the accusation as I adjusted the camera strap across my chest.

Was it wrong? the toucan asked, tilting his head until his enormous bill angled slightly toward the ground.

“I'm leaving now,” I told the toucan, lowering the camera with exaggerated dignity before he could do any more damage to my self-esteem. The bird returned to his berries without appearing bothered in the slightest, and I had only made it another twenty yards when leaves rustled overhead.

Why don't you want to sleep near him again? a capuchin asked from somewhere above me, curiosity making his voice carry clearly through the canopy while branches shifted as he moved closer.

My shoulders dropped in resignation.

Of course he'd heard us.

“No,” I told the monkey, spotting part of his tail between two branches as I continued walking. “We're not continuing that conversation.”

Why not? the capuchin asked, swinging down until his face appeared through the leaves and he could keep pace with me from above.

“Because every animal in this forest has suddenly developed an unhealthy interest in my personal life,” I explained to the capuchin, stepping around a patch of slick mud while he moved effortlessly from branch to branch overhead.

Do you have a personal life? the capuchin asked, sounding genuinely curious as he paused long enough to scratch at his stomach.