Chapter 19 #3
“Still counts.” Tavian started walking again with a spring in his step.
I laughed despite myself and followed. By the time we reached the first stream crossing, Tavian had also given me a striped pebble no bigger than the end of my thumb, a curled seed pod he insisted looked like a sleeping animal if I turned it sideways, and one bright red leaf with no explanation beyond the fact that he had liked it.
None of them were useful, yet every one remained tucked into one of my pockets instead of being dropped back onto the forest floor.
A jacamar gave me the first photograph worth stopping for.
The bird sat on a narrow branch above the stream, its long bill angled toward the water while iridescent green feathers flashed whenever it shifted beneath the broken sunlight.
I crouched near a buttress root, braced one elbow against my knee, and adjusted the lens while Tavian stopped several feet behind me without needing to be told.
Again, the jacamar complained from the branch, turning its narrow head toward the camera while its claws tightened briefly around the bark.
“You know me?” I whispered to the jacamar, keeping the camera lifted and my movements slow while I adjusted the focus around the bird’s dark eye.
People with eyes. Always looking, the jacamar complained as it shifted farther along the branch, its green feathers briefly disappearing against the leaves before flashing again beneath the sunlight.
“That could describe most of humanity.” I murmured to the jacamar while adjusting the focus, pressing the shutter when it finally angled its body away from an inconvenient twig.
Too many, the jacamar decided, feathers flicking along its back as the shutter clicked several more times.
“What?” I asked Tavian when his quiet laugh reached me from behind, keeping my eye against the viewfinder while I waited for the bird to turn its head toward the light again.
“You argue with birds exactly the same way you argue with me.” Tavian leaned one shoulder against a nearby tree, careful to keep his body out of my frame while amusement warmed his voice.
“That should concern you.” I checked another angle through the viewfinder, shifting my knee when the root beneath me started digging into my leg.
“It makes me feel included.” Tavian replied with unmistakable satisfaction, apparently taking the comparison as a compliment.
Spotted thing, the jacamar complained as it launched from the branch and disappeared through the trees, its wings making a brief sharp sound against the humid air.
I lowered the camera and checked the frames while Tavian pushed away from the trunk. One image was excellent—not cover-worthy, but sharp enough that I marked it for later and enlarged it to check the fine detail around the bird’s eye.
“What did it call me?” Tavian asked as he stepped closer, leaning toward the display without touching the camera.
“Spotted.” I answered Tavian as I shifted the screen toward him, keeping one hand securely around the camera body while he examined the photograph.
“That’s fair.” Tavian nodded thoughtfully before studying the image for another second. “Good?”
“Very. The light caught the breast without blowing out the background.” I pointed toward the darker area of foliage behind the bird, showing Tavian how the contrast separated the jacamar from the vegetation.
“And that’s good.” Tavian studied the photograph with more concentration than I expected, following my finger between the bird and the blurred leaves instead of pretending he understood something he didn’t.
“Yes.” I nodded as I returned the camera to myself, pleased that he was actually trying to follow the explanation.
“Then I found you a useful bird.” Tavian straightened with obvious pride.
“You did not personally arrange the bird.” I gave Tavian a skeptical look while slipping the camera strap securely back over my shoulder.
“You can’t prove that.” Tavian spread his hands, completely serious for half a second, and I started walking before he could develop the argument any further.
The waterfall could be heard long before we reached it.
At first, it was only a low rush beneath insects and birds, easy to mistake for wind moving through dense leaves.
The sound steadily deepened as the trail curved downward through thicker vegetation, broad leaves shining with trapped moisture while Tavian moved farther ahead of me.
“Careful here.” Tavian stepped onto a section of exposed rock darkened by spray before turning to offer his hand, testing his footing by shifting his weight once before allowing me to follow.
“I thought you said this was a useful photography location, not an attempt to break my neck.” I took Tavian’s hand while testing the rock with one boot before committing my weight, feeling fine mist settle against my forearms as we moved closer to the falls.
“Both can be true.” Tavian steadied me across the slickest section, his free hand hovering near my elbow without actually grabbing me.
“That is not reassuring.” I muttered while concentrating on staying upright, and Tavian laughed but didn’t release my hand until both of my boots were back on secure ground.
The waterfall came into view through the trees a moment later, and I stopped without meaning to.
Water spilled over a dark stone ledge nearly three stories above us, breaking into white spray before dropping into a broad pool ringed by moss-covered rock, enormous ferns, and tangled roots that disappeared into the bank.
The pool narrowed into a stream at the far end before vanishing beneath dense vegetation.
Sunlight reached one side of the water through an opening in the canopy, turning the drifting spray silver while the shaded bank remained dark enough that anything moving through it would stand out beautifully.
The constant rush of water softened every other sound without erasing it.
Bird calls still drifted down from the higher canopy, insects buzzed around the plants nearest the pool, and something small rustled through the leaf litter on the opposite bank before disappearing beneath a broad fern.
Fine droplets gathered along my forearms from the mist while I studied the bank, already seeing several promising positions for photographs.
“Useful?” Tavian asked when I finally turned toward him, rocking back slightly on his heels with the unbearably pleased look of a man who already knew the answer.
“I hate when you’re right.” I adjusted my camera strap while surveying the light and mentally cataloging possible angles, although the excitement already building made the complaint less convincing.
“You should get used to it.” Tavian crossed his arms with obnoxious satisfaction.
“I absolutely will not.” I headed toward the water before Tavian could become any smugger, listening to his laughter follow me beneath the steady roar of the falls.
The location was better than useful, with animal tracks crowding the damp soil along the far edge of the pool and several overlapping in a way that suggested the water was regularly used.
Birds moved constantly through the canopy, and a large green iguana lay stretched along a branch warmed by one of the few patches of direct sunlight.
Too wet, the iguana complained from the branch as it opened one eye and looked toward the waterfall, its claws curled lazily around the bark.
“You are beside a waterfall,” I whispered to the iguana while lifting my camera, crouching low enough that the animal remained framed against leaves instead of the bright sky beyond the canopy.
Still too wet, the iguana insisted, shifting one foreleg against the bark before resettling its belly over the branch.
“I don’t think the waterfall is going to move.” I lowered my stance slightly and adjusted the focus, trying not to laugh when the reptile stared toward the falling water.
Should, the iguana decided before closing its eye again.
“What?” Tavian asked from behind me when I bit the inside of my cheek, recognizing the reaction immediately.
“The iguana would like the waterfall relocated.” I answered Tavian without lowering the camera, waiting for the reptile to open its eyes again while the mist cooled the sweat along the back of my neck.
“I respect the ambition.” Tavian nodded solemnly toward the iguana, somehow managing to make the ridiculous request sound reasonable.
Loud one agrees, the iguana observed, opening both eyes long enough to turn its head toward Tavian while its throat expanded with one slow breath.
“Do not encourage him.” I warned the iguana as Tavian’s smile started growing behind me.
You loud too, the iguana replied, shifting its attention back toward me.
“You two deserve each other.” I told Tavian after his laughter made me lower the camera for several seconds until I trusted my hands again.
“I think that was aimed at you.” Tavian pointed toward the branch, still grinning.
“It was not.” I raised the camera again and adjusted the lens.
Both loud, the iguana concluded as it closed its eyes, apparently finished with the entire conversation. I took several frames while the iguana remained stretched along the branch, then marked the strongest one before moving on.
For the rest of the morning, Tavian proved surprisingly useful without becoming any quieter about being Tavian.
He climbed a low ridge beside the waterfall and found a vantage point where I could photograph birds crossing the open spray without putting myself on unstable stone.
When a small group of capuchins appeared near the far bank, he noticed them before I did and pointed silently instead of calling out, then stayed perfectly still until I finished shooting.
He carried my second lens case when I finally let him, found a dry patch of stone where I could kneel without sinking into mud, and once caught the back of my vest when I became too focused on a toucan and nearly stepped into a patch of earth soft enough to swallow half my boot.