Chapter 17 #2
“It pays better than noble.” I said, and his quiet laugh followed us farther beneath the trees.
The creek was almost an hour away at photography speed, which meant stopping whenever something interesting appeared instead of treating the forest like a hallway between destinations.
Malek had learned that rhythm by now. When I raised my camera for a woodpecker working along a moss-dark trunk, he stopped without being told, and he no longer pointed out every movement his sharper senses caught unless it mattered.
I noticed that, along with far too many other things about him lately.
The creek could be heard before we saw it, the steady rush of water growing louder beneath insects and bird calls until the trail descended through broad ferns toward the bank.
Overnight rain had raised the water slightly, turning the shallower edges cloudy where the current disturbed loose sediment.
Sunlight broke through gaps in the canopy in narrow strips, catching wet stones and leaves along the opposite side.
I stopped before reaching the bank and studied the area through the camera while Malek stayed several steps behind me, giving me room to work.
“This could work.” I murmured mostly to myself as I adjusted the focal length and looked at the layers of vegetation through the viewfinder.
“What are you looking for?” Malek asked from behind my right shoulder, keeping his voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry far over the water.
“Something that decides to stand exactly where I want it to.” I lowered the camera and pointed toward a low branch angling over the creek. “A green kingfisher there would be ideal. I’d have clean water beneath it, darker vegetation behind it, and enough open space above for the magazine title.”
“So you need an unusually cooperative bird.” Malek followed the direction of my finger, studying the branch.
“I need a miracle with feathers.” I corrected Malek before beginning to move slowly upstream.
For the next two hours, I worked. A pair of tanagers gave me several usable frames but nothing cover-worthy.
One of the capuchins appeared on the opposite bank and stared directly at me while I raised the camera.
Camera woman again. The capuchin announced from its branch, tilting its head as though my return was personally noteworthy.
“Yes, camera woman again.” I muttered to the capuchin as I adjusted the lens, keeping my voice low so I didn’t startle anything else nearby.
Always looking. The capuchin complained before climbing higher and disappearing behind a curtain of leaves.
“What did it say?” Malek asked from several feet behind me, amusement warming his voice as he watched the branches where the capuchin had vanished.
“Apparently I look too much.” I lowered the camera and glanced back at Malek, unimpressed by the criticism. “Which is a bold complaint from an animal that spent thirty seconds staring at me.”
Malek’s mouth twitched before I turned back toward the creek. A green kingfisher flashed low over the water three separate times, moving fast enough that the first two attempts gave me little more than a blur of green-blue wings above the surface.
Malek carried my spare water bottle after I set it down once and nearly forgot it.
He handed it back before I asked, waited while I drank, then took it again when I passed it toward him without thinking.
By now, I recognized the gesture for what it was: courtship.
The more surprising part was how naturally I had started accepting it.
Near midday, I finally got something. I crouched behind a buttress root after catching movement near an exposed section of bank, expecting another bird.
Instead, a sleek brown head appeared between the leaves before a long-bodied Neotropical river otter slipped onto a half-submerged log, whiskers forward and wet fur shining wherever the sunlight reached it.
I froze, and Malek did the same behind me.
The otter climbed farther onto the log while sunlight caught one side of its face, and I raised the camera slowly until the frame came together almost perfectly: vertical, water beneath it, dark vegetation behind it, and a clean upper corner for the masthead.
The otter turned its head.
You are staring. The otter informed me as it lifted its chin, whiskers twitching while it looked almost directly toward the lens.
“Occupational hazard.” I whispered to the otter as I pressed the shutter, barely moving anything except my finger.
Strange human. The otter decided, but it gave me another few precious seconds before sliding from the log and disappearing beneath the dark surface of the creek. I stayed crouched while I checked the final frames, and the third photograph made the entire morning worth it.
“Oh, you beautiful little thing.” I whispered to the vanished otter as I zoomed in on its eye, sharp enough that I could make out the reflection of the creek bank.
“Did it insult you?” Malek asked from several feet behind me, the corner of his mouth already twitching as he waited for me to lower the camera.
“A little.” I admitted to Malek without looking away from the screen. “But it posed first, so I’m choosing forgiveness.”
“Good?” Malek asked as he stepped close enough to see the display once I finally lowered the camera.
“Very good.” I stood and turned the screen toward Malek, unable to keep the grin off my face. “Look at the upper left. It’s clean enough for the masthead, the face is sharp, and the water leads straight through the lower half.”
“I understand about half of that.” Malek leaned closer to study the display, his attention moving over the image with complete seriousness. “But I know you like it.”
“I love it.” I corrected Malek as I checked another frame. “I need backups because I refuse to trust my career to one otter being cooperative for twelve seconds, but this could actually work.”
Malek wasn't looking at the photograph anymore. He was looking at me, and I stopped scrolling.
“What?” I asked Malek as I lowered the camera slightly.
“Nothing.” Malek answered, but he kept looking at me with the same warm expression.
“That was absolutely something.” I told Malek as I tucked a damp strand of hair behind my ear.
“You smile differently when you get the photograph you wanted.” Malek said simply, his attention dipping to the camera in my hands before returning to my face.
“You haven’t known me that long.” I lowered the camera completely, although I was already losing whatever argument I thought I was making.
“I’ve watched you work almost every day since we met.
” Malek replied, his mouth curving slightly.
I couldn't think of a comeback to that. We ate lunch farther upstream where the bank rose above the creek and exposed a wide shelf of stone warmed by broken patches of sunlight. Malek had packed more than enough food for both of us, which I now understood was entirely intentional. There was sliced fruit, cooked meat wrapped in broad leaves, roasted roots, and enough water that I suspected he had planned for me to forget to pack my own despite knowing perfectly well that I hadn’t.
“You realize I brought food.” I reminded Malek as he handed me a portion of meat, though I accepted it anyway.
“I know.” Malek settled beside me on the stone and opened his own portion. “Mine is better.”
“You don’t even know what I brought.” I pointed out as I bit into the meat and immediately discovered he might unfortunately have a point.
“I smelled it through the bag.” Malek answered without looking remotely apologetic.
“That feels like cheating.” I stopped chewing long enough to give Malek a look before I swallowed.
“It is an advantage.” Malek corrected me, amusement appearing around his eyes.
“You three are going to become unbearable now that I know how much you’re actually smelling.” I muttered as I reached for a piece of fruit.
“We already knew almost everything you ate at camp.” Malek said it so casually that I nearly dropped the fruit.
“You knew what I ate?” I turned toward Malek, not sure whether to be offended or impressed.
“You were surrounded by three leopards with better noses than you.” Malek leaned one forearm across his bent knee. “Yes.”
“That is deeply invasive information to learn after the fact.” I told Malek, though laughter was already threatening.
“You fed me raw chicken under a tree.” Malek pointed out, his expression remaining perfectly serious. “I think we’re even.”
I laughed hard enough that a bird startled from a nearby branch, and Malek smiled.
The creek moved steadily below us while I ate.
I explained what would happen if the magazine chose one of the photographs and how quickly I would need to process the final file, and Malek listened without pretending to understand the parts he didn’t.
Eventually, I realized how close we were to the place where all of this had started. Downstream, the roots formed the same dark shelter beside the creek, and beyond them was the section of bank where I had first heard an injured animal calling for help. I set the last piece of fruit aside.
“That was over there, wasn’t it?” I asked Malek as I nodded toward the bend, recognizing the shape of one enormous tree through the surrounding vegetation.
“Yes.” Malek followed my gaze toward the bend, his voice quieter as cedar sharpened beneath the wet-earth note of his scent.
“Do you want to see it?” I asked Malek, watching him rather than the creek.
“Yes.” Malek considered the question for a moment before standing and holding one hand toward me. “I do.”
I looked at his hand before taking it. The walk downstream only took a few minutes.
Everything looked different from this side of knowing.
The roots were still there, dark with moisture and tangled against the bank, but without a massive injured leopard wedged beneath them, the space seemed smaller than I remembered. I stopped several feet away.