Page 37 of Beasts of Mine

I went still as the words settled, suddenly aware of the weight of the camera against my chest and the damp heat pressing around me. Apparently, jungle gossip traveled much farther than I'd realized.

“How would you know that?” I asked the capuchin, unable to keep the surprise from my voice as I pushed myself fully upright.

You tell spotted one many things, the capuchin replied, eating the final piece of fruit before rubbing his fingertips together to remove the sticky residue.

I closed my eyes briefly and let my head rest against the tree behind me.

Of course I did.

I'd spent several afternoons rambling to the leopard about assignments, countries I'd traveled to, airports, equipment, and whatever else happened to cross my mind. Apparently, he wasn't the only animal listening.

“Moving around is part of my job,” I told the capuchin, opening my eyes again while familiar defensiveness crept into my voice and my fingers tightened slightly around the camera strap.

I know, the elder monkey replied simply, brushing his hands against the bark while his calm expression made it obvious he hadn't intended the observation as criticism.

That somehow made me more aware that I was defending myself when nobody had asked me to.

“So what does that have to do with him watching me?” I asked the capuchin, shifting my weight from one boot to the other as I nodded toward the direction of the creek.

He doesn't know when you'll stop coming, the capuchin explained, lowering himself onto another branch and gripping the bark with both hands as he prepared to climb higher.

The answer caught me off guard enough that I didn't respond before he started moving.

“Wait. Does he actually wait for me?” I asked the elder capuchin, stepping closer to the base of the tree and tipping my head back to keep him in sight.

Every day, the capuchin replied, pausing long enough to glance over one shoulder with an expression suggesting there was nothing remarkable about the answer.

Then he continued into the canopy and disappeared among the leaves. I remained beside the tree for several moments, listening to the surrounding forest while his answer settled somewhere uncomfortable.

Every day.

CHAPTER SIX

EVIE

The leopard knew I checked his wounds in the afternoon, so of course he'd know roughly when I was coming. That was the most practical explanation.

Except he didn't really need those checks anymore, and I knew it. His wound was healing beautifully. His leg had improved. He could hunt without me bringing him food. The same excuses I'd been using for my own visits applied just as poorly to him now, and that thought stayed with me as I pushed away from the tree and resumed walking.

“That monkey has been spending too much time around the macaw,” I muttered to myself, adjusting the camera strap as I stepped around another muddy patch in the trail.

The explanation might have been more convincing if I hadn't spent the rest of the morning thinking about it. I continued working until after lunch, photographing several frogs near a shallow pool, a pair of tanagers moving between flowering plants, and one young capuchin who apparently loved the camera so much that he followed me for nearly fifteen minutes.

By the time I started toward the creek shortly after two, I had almost convinced myself the animals were simply assigning meanings to things that weren't there. Then I reached the water and found the leopard beneath the exposed roots, his head already lifted toward the exact trail I'd just come from.

The thought that he had been waiting appeared before I could stop it, and I paused on the near bank while the older capuchin's words returned with uncomfortable clarity.

Cat, because that was still the only thing I had to call him—looked nothing like the badly injured animal I'd first found here. The wound along his side had closed into a narrow healing line hidden beneath tawny fur, and when he shifted onto his feet to stretch, he put his full weight on the leg that had once been wrapped in wire without any visible hesitation.

He didn't need me anymore.

Yet a small rush of happiness still moved through me at the sight of him.

That probably deserved more examination than I intended to give it.

The leopard tilted his head when I didn't immediately cross.

“Afternoon, Cat,” I greeted the leopard, carefully making my way over the shallow creek while a smile tugged at my mouth when both of his ears immediately angled backward at the nickname.