Page 9 of Beasts of Mine

I adjusted the angle and finally managed to fit the cutters beneath the metal.

“All right, one second,” I warned the tayra, steadying its leg lightly while tightening my grip.

The wire snapped. The tayra immediately dragged its leg free and scrambled several feet away.

I backed off at the same time, giving it room instead of trying to follow.

“There,” I told the animal, lowering the cutters onto the leaves beside me. “You're out.”

It remained nearby, crouched low with its injured paw held off the ground.

I expected it to leave. Instead, its attention moved toward the gauze and antiseptic sitting beside my knee.

Then it looked at me.

I waited.

“You're going to let me finish?” I asked the tayra, reaching slowly toward the supplies while trying to decide whether I was imagining how deliberate its behavior seemed.

Its ears shifted forward.

I gave a quiet, disbelieving laugh.

“No one's going to believe this,” I muttered to myself as I picked up the antiseptic.

The tayra stayed where it was.

“If you change your mind halfway through, please don't take a finger with you,” I warned the creature, moving closer only after it remained calm.

It allowed me to touch the injured leg again. I cleaned the wound carefully, wiping away the dried blood and dirt. Its muscles jerked the first time antiseptic touched broken skin.

“Sorry,” I murmured to the tayra, loosening my hold so it wouldn't feel restrained. “That part always stings.”

The creature didn't try to move away. That was unusual enough without adding anything mystical to it. Wild animals sometimes froze when frightened or exhausted, but this didn't feel like that. Its body remained alert, and those bright eyes tracked everything I did.

I finished cleaning the injury, wrapped it with gauze, then secured the bandage without tightening it enough to interfere with circulation.

“There,” I told the creature, sitting back once I was satisfied with the wrap. “That's about as much as I can do out here without taking you back to the station, and I'm guessing neither of us wants to attempt that.”

The tayra lowered its head and sniffed the clean white bandage.

“You're probably going to pull that off the second I'm gone,” I said to the tayra, gathering the used gauze and broken wire from the ground.

The creature raised its head again.

“I'll choose to believe that means you won't,” I told it, tucking the rubbish into an empty plastic bag inside my kit.

It stood carefully and tested the injured leg. There was a limp, but after several attempts, it managed to put some weight on the paw.

Relief loosened the tension across my shoulders.

“That could've been much worse,” I murmured to the tayra as I closed the medical kit.

The tayra turned toward the deeper forest.

“Good luck,” I called after it, pulling my pack upright as it began walking away.

It went several yards before stopping.