Chapter 1 #3
The conservation organization funding my visit wanted updated wildlife images for educational materials, research documentation, and future grant applications.
The scientists stationed here were also conducting population surveys, and after I had a few days to settle in, I would begin accompanying them deeper into the reserve.
Several rarer species had been reported farther out.
Those were the photographs everyone wanted.
I knew better than to expect anything remarkable during my first afternoon, though. Wildlife photography involved far more waiting than most people realized, and some days ended without a single usable image.
I was fine with that.
Mara suggested that I spend the rest of the afternoon settling in.
I genuinely tried.
I showered, changed into a fresh shirt, organized half my equipment, drank an entire bottle of water, and sat on the edge of my bed with every intention of staying there.
Twenty minutes later, I had my camera in my hands again.
I wasn't going far.
At least, that was the plan.
The nearest marked trail started behind the equipment building and curved beneath the trees. Within a few minutes, the sounds from the station faded until all I could hear were insects, birds, water dripping from leaves, and occasional movement somewhere above me.
The temperature beneath the canopy was slightly cooler, although the air remained humid enough that my clean shirt wasn't going to stay clean for long.
Damp soil and decomposing leaves gave the forest floor a rich earthy smell, and exposed roots crossed the narrow trail often enough that I had to pay attention to where I placed my boots.
I slowed my pace. Moving quickly was one of the easiest ways to miss something. A small movement near the base of a tree caught my attention.
I stopped.
A green lizard clung to the edge of a broad leaf several feet away. Its tiny front feet spread over the glossy surface while its throat moved rapidly with each breath.
I raised the camera carefully and waited.
The lizard stayed put.
I adjusted my focus and shifted slightly until the angle was better. When its head finally turned, I pressed the shutter twice.
The second photograph was sharp.
“Thank you,” I whispered to the lizard, smiling as I checked the focus around its eye on the screen.
The little creature remained on the leaf, watching me.
“You're very photogenic,” I added to the lizard, keeping my voice low while straightening carefully.
It disappeared beneath the leaf almost immediately.
“Apparently you don't like compliments,” I murmured to the empty spot, hooking one finger beneath the camera strap as I stood. “Fair enough.”
Talking to animals had been a habit since childhood, and years of working alone had only made it worse.
There was something relaxing about speaking when no answer was expected.
Farther down the trail, leafcutter ants crossed the path in a steady line, each carrying a piece of greenery larger than its body.
Butterflies gathered around a patch of wet soil, their wings opening and closing while they fed.
A group of capuchins moved through the branches high above me, making enough noise that I heard them before I spotted them.
One paused on a low branch.
I brought the camera up slowly.
“I'm not bothering you,” I assured the capuchin, keeping my voice soft as it watched me from above. The monkey wrapped one hand around the branch and continued observing me.
“I just want one picture,” I told the capuchin, adjusting the camera as a patch of sunlight moved across its face.
The monkey scratched under one arm.
“Very dignified,” I murmured to the animal, amusement pulling at my mouth as I managed two quick photographs before it followed the others deeper into the canopy.
I checked my watch sometime later and realized I had stayed out longer than I'd intended. The light had changed beneath the trees. It wasn't dark yet, but the brighter patches were fading as the afternoon moved on.
“All right, Evie. Five more minutes, then back to the station,” I told myself, adjusting the strap across my chest while knowing perfectly well I'd made that same promise in more countries than I could count.
A metallic scraping sound came from somewhere off the trail.
I stopped.
The rainforest was filled with noises I didn't recognize yet, but metal scraping against something hard stood out immediately.
I waited.
A bird called several times behind me. Insects continued their steady noise. Then leaves thrashed through the vegetation to my left, followed by another scrape and a short cry.
My hand dropped from the camera.
Whatever made that sound was hurt.
I turned toward the trail marker tied around the nearest tree. Mara had been very clear about staying on the paths while I was alone, and she had good reason. In vegetation this dense, getting turned around didn't require much effort.
Another strained cry came from beyond the trail.
Quieter this time.
“Damn it,” I muttered, securing my camera against the harness over my chest before reaching into my pack for the small medical kit I carried in the field.
The responsible thing would have been to call the station.
I knew that.
But a trapped animal could make an injury significantly worse while struggling, and the weakening cries made waiting feel impossible.
“I'm coming,” I called toward the hidden animal, pushing aside a broad wet leaf as I carefully stepped away from the trail. “Just try not to hurt yourself any worse before I get there.”
The vegetation thickened almost immediately. Leaves brushed my arms and left streaks of cool water against my skin. Thin branches caught at my pants, while a vine managed to tangle itself into the end of my braid badly enough that I had to stop and work it loose.
Movement came from ahead again.
“Easy,” I murmured to the unseen animal, lowering my voice as I stepped around a massive exposed root. “I'm not trying to scare you.”
Then I saw the wire.
I stopped.
A crude metal snare had been hidden beneath leaves and debris near the base of a tree. Whoever had put it there had taken enough time to disguise it, which meant there was no chance it had been left accidentally.
Something dark was trapped beside it.