Page 82 of Beasts of Mine

“You know I don't need three bodyguards,” I told them, tightening one shoulder strap on my pack as I glanced between the spotted forms gathered around me.

Yes, you do, Cat replied without hesitation, stepping onto the path as if the matter had already been decided somewhere without my participation.

“I really don't,” I told Cat, following him as Menace slipped past us on the left with the restless energy he'd apparently been storing all morning.

You followed tracks yesterday, Menace reminded me, looking back over one spotted shoulder with obvious satisfaction.

“I attempted to identify tracks,” I corrected Menace, stepping around a muddy depression and adjusting the camera resting against my chest.

You tried to walk toward them, Gentleman added from my other side, matching my pace with his usual calm precision.

“I thought you were the nice one,” I told Gentleman, turning toward him as he continued down the trail as though he hadn't just betrayed me.

I am, Gentleman replied, stepping neatly over a fallen branch before glancing back at me.

“Starting to question that,” I muttered to Gentleman, ducking beneath a low vine as the slight movement of his whiskers told me he'd heard every word.

The maintained trail lasted for the first mile before Gentleman moved ahead and turned onto a narrower game path climbing gradually toward the ridge. I checked my compass, compared our direction to the map, and followed once I was satisfied I knew where we were going. Cat remained closest to me, rarely more than several yards away unless the path narrowed enough that one of us had to move ahead. Menace ranged farther out, disappearing into vegetation and returning from completely different directions as though walking in a straight line offended him personally. Gentleman maintained a steadier pace and matched mine even when I stopped to photograph something along the way.

The forest grew denser as we climbed. Massive trunks crowded the slope, some wrapped so completely in vines that the bark beneath them had disappeared beneath layers of green. Moss softened fallen trees, broad fungi climbed dead wood in overlapping shelves, and sunlight reached the forest floor only in scattered patches that moved whenever wind disturbed the canopy. The ordinary animal voices had changed too. The rainforest itself remained loud—cicadas buzzed somewhere above us, birds called through the upper branches, and unseen animals moved constantly through leaves and vines—but what had changed was the way I understood them.

A pair of small monkeys crossed overhead, and instead of the clear conversation I might have heard several days earlier, I caught only impressions: food, hurry, irritation, another tree. A toucan landed on a branch near the trail, turned one dark eye toward me, called once, and flew away without a single understandable word reaching me.

Careful. Root, Gentleman warned me from beside the path, glancing toward the ground in front of my boots as his voice came through with the same clarity it always had.

“Thank you,” I told Gentleman, catching myself before the toe of my boot struck the thick root and stepping over it carefully. Once I was safely past it, I slowed enough to study him. Gentleman tipped his head as though waiting for whatever question I was considering, but I kept it to myself. Most of the animals were becoming harder to understand. The three leopards weren't. Their voices remained perfectly clear.

Maybe familiarity mattered. I'd spent more time around them than any other animals since the nature spirit had given me this strange ability, and I'd learned their expressions and body language well enough that perhaps the magic didn't need to do as much work anymore. It wasn't a particularly strong explanation, but it was the only one I had, and I wasn't interested in taking it apart halfway up a rainforest ridge.

The climb continued for another hour before the ground leveled beneath us. I heard our destination before I saw it, macaw calls rolling through the canopy ahead in sharp overlapping bursts until individual birds became nearly impossible to separate by sound alone. Gentleman moved through the last section of vegetation and stopped near the edge of a slope, and when I stepped beside him, every strange thought I'd been having disappeared.

Red, blue, and yellow flashed through the trees below us. Several scarlet macaws clustered around a natural mineral seep exposed where part of the hillside had eroded, while others filled the surrounding branches, climbing, calling, preening, and occasionally launching themselves across the clearing in pairs.

“Okay, you win,” I told Gentleman, already reaching for my camera as excitement pushed everything else aside.

I usually do, Gentleman replied, settling onto his haunches beside me with a calm confidence that made me pause halfway through changing lenses.

“You've been spending too much time with Menace,” I told Gentleman, giving him a suspicious look as I pulled the telephoto lens free.

He could learn from me, Menace announced from several yards behind us, stepping through the vegetation with his tail raised as though Gentleman had just paid him a compliment.

“That is absolutely not what I said,” I told Menace, tightening the lens onto the camera body before settling into position.

For the next forty minutes, I worked and everything else stopped mattering. The macaws gave me more than I'd hoped for. I caught two birds touching beaks on a low branch, another pair squabbling noisily over a section of exposed clay, and several shots of scarlet bodies launching from the trees with their wings fully spread. Damp hair stuck to the back of my neck, my knees complained about the crouched position, and I barely noticed either problem. Menace sat behind me for part of it and, for once, managed to remain completely still. Cat positioned himself farther down the slope with his attention divided between me and the surrounding forest, while Gentleman disappeared into the trees for several minutes before returning from the east.

By the time the largest group scattered, I'd filled enough of a memory card to justify the entire hike. I lowered the camera and flexed my fingers as I reviewed several frames, satisfaction settling through me at the sharp details and brilliant color.

“That was worth it,” I told Gentleman, lowering the camera slightly as he rose from his place nearby.

There is more, Gentleman told me, turning his head toward the forest beyond the mineral seep.

“More birds?” I asked Gentleman, securing the camera against my chest as I watched him face east.

Sometimes, Gentleman replied, glancing back at me before stepping toward a narrow break between the trees.

“That was vague even for you,” I told Gentleman, remaining where I was as he waited several yards away.

You can stay here, Gentleman replied, watching me with the patient confidence of someone who already knew what I was going to decide.