Chapter 9 #2
“I don't chase wildlife,” I told Mara, interrupting her with both hands raised defensively. Mara stared at me long enough that I reconsidered my wording.
“I strategically reposition myself in response to wildlife movement,” I corrected myself, lowering my hands while trying not to smile.
“Radio first,” Mara told me, pointing one finger at the device clipped to my bag while her expression made it clear she wasn't interested in my terminology.
“Radio first,” I repeated to Mara, giving her a solemn nod that earned absolutely no trust in return.
The route had been marked with narrow reflective tags attached high enough on tree trunks to remain visible even when the lower vegetation grew thick.
Mara walked in with me because she wanted to inspect the camp after the recent rain, which meant the first hour and a half passed with considerably less solitude than I usually preferred while working.
That didn't bother me. Mara knew the rainforest well, and she also knew when to stop talking.
We moved steadily beneath the canopy, following a route that climbed gradually away from the station.
The air seemed wetter the deeper we went, although logically that was probably impossible.
Moisture clung to every exposed patch of skin, and within twenty minutes my shirt was sticking between my shoulder blades beneath the weight of the pack.
The forest changed subtly around us as we traveled.
Trees grew larger in places, their buttress roots forming walls high enough to hide behind, while bromeliads crowded the branches overhead and collected pools of water among thick waxy leaves.
Lianas hung from the canopy in heavy ropes, and occasional flashes of scarlet crossed the green whenever macaws moved far above us.
Unfortunately, none of them said anything.
I'd been noticing that more often. The blessing hadn't vanished, but it wasn't as constant as it had been the first night. Sometimes an animal's voice came through as clearly as Mara's beside me. Other times I understood what it meant without hearing actual words, more impression than conversation.
I wasn't sure whether I was becoming accustomed to the blessing or whether it was beginning to fade. Considering how aggressively the local wildlife had started involving itself in my personal life, I wasn't entirely certain which possibility bothered me more.
Mara stopped several feet ahead.
“Watch this section. The rain undercut it last week,” Mara warned me, pointing toward a patch of dark mud where runoff had eaten into the outside edge of the trail. She tested the firmer ground near the slope with one boot before stepping aside.
“Good to know,” I told Mara, tightening one shoulder strap as I followed the safer inside edge she'd shown me.
We continued another twenty minutes before the trees opened enough for the platform to appear.
Calling it a camp had given me a slightly grander mental image, but what waited for us was a raised rectangle of weathered wood tucked between enormous roots and partially hidden by vegetation.
Four steps led onto the platform, a corrugated roof extended far enough beyond the edges to keep most rain away, and rolled canvas panels were secured along three sides.
The fourth remained open toward the forest.
I loved it immediately.
“Oh, this is perfect,” I told Mara, climbing onto the platform and lowering my equipment with considerably more enthusiasm than dignity.
“Your standards continue to concern me,” Mara replied, following me up the steps before crouching beside one of the support posts to test the wood.
There were two cots inside, both narrow enough that rolling over too enthusiastically would become an educational experience.
Mosquito nets hung above them, a shelf had been bolted along the rear wall, and two sealed bins sat beneath the worktable.
The lockbox was ugly, heavy, and beautiful.
“I could kiss whoever installed this,” I told Mara, running one hand over the lid as I tested the lock and opened it to inspect the interior.
“I'll let Mateo know. He's seventy-two and married, but he might appreciate the confidence boost,” Mara replied, straightening from the support post while amusement spread across her face.
“I retract my offer,” I told Mara, immediately removing my hand from the box as if Mateo might somehow sense what I'd said from several miles away.
“Coward,” Mara accused me, laughing as she moved toward the second cot and checked one of the legs.
She inspected the shelter while I unpacked enough equipment to claim the space.
The solar panel went near the open edge where midday light would reach it, batteries and memory cards went onto the shelf, and my clothes remained inside a sealed dry bag because I'd sacrificed enough fabric to insects over the years to stop assuming anything was safe simply because it belonged to me.
The photography blind sat about a hundred yards away, and Mara took me there next.
It had been built low against a natural rise, with dark mesh stretched over a simple frame and narrow openings positioned for lenses.
From inside, I had a clear view of a muddy opening where several game trails intersected.
Tracks covered the ground: peccary, agouti, tapir, and smaller monkey prints near one edge. I crouched beside one large three-toed impression and smiled.
“This is going to be good,” I told Mara, tracing the shape in the air without touching the actual print.
“That's the idea. There's a stream southeast of here, but don't use the direct animal trail. Follow the marked side route. The bank is safer,” Mara replied, scanning the vegetation beyond the clearing before pointing toward a narrow opening between the trees.
“How far?” I asked Mara, rising and adjusting the camera resting against my chest as I followed the direction of her hand.
“Ten minutes. Maybe twelve. You'll hear it before you see it,” Mara told me, pointing toward two faded markers barely visible among the leaves.
I committed the route to memory, and by the time Mara left, we'd inspected the platform, tested the radio from both the camp and blind, checked the water route, and gone over what I should do if the weather changed unexpectedly.
Twice.
I stood near the platform and watched her disappear along the marked trail until the sound of her boots finally faded beneath insects and birds. Then I turned toward the camp with a ridiculous amount of satisfaction.
Three nights maybe four. Excellent wildlife. No generator, no neighboring room, and no one asking why I kept disappearing every afternoon.
“This is going to be amazing,” I told the apparently empty forest, smiling as I shifted my camera into a more comfortable position against my chest.
You moved, Cat told me from behind the platform, his deeper voice arriving so unexpectedly that I spun hard enough for the camera to swing against my ribs.
I slapped one hand over my chest and stared at him.
“Jesus Christ. Do you practice appearing behind people without making noise?” I asked Cat, glaring while he stood between two enormous roots with absolutely no sign of remorse on his spotted face.
Yes, Cat told me, stepping into the clearing while his golden-brown eyes traveled over the shelter, my equipment, and finally the trail Mara had taken.
I stared at him for a second.
“You're joking,” I told Cat, watching him approach the steps while his nose lowered toward the ground.
Sometimes, Cat replied, smelling the patch of earth where Mara had stood before moving toward the nearest support. I couldn't decide whether that had answered my question.
“How did you even know I was here?” I asked Cat, resting one hand on my hip while he methodically inspected the base of the platform.
You are not difficult to find, Cat told me, his whiskers shifting as he drew in another breath near my pack.
“That sounds alarmingly like something a stalker would say,” I informed Cat, stepping down from the platform as he moved around the nearest post.
You make a lot of noise, Cat told me, glancing toward the marked path Mara and I had used before looking pointedly at the metal bottle hanging from my bag.
“I do not,” I told Cat, following him around the platform while indignation warmed my face. Cat looked at my equipment, then at me, then back at the metal bottle.
“Fine. Some noise,” I admitted to Cat, folding my arms as his tail moved once behind him in a way I was beginning to recognize as smugness.
He completed an entire circuit of the platform before settling near the front steps with his body facing outward.
His ears moved independently toward sounds I couldn't identify, and it took me a few seconds to understand what he was doing.
“You're inspecting my camp,” I told Cat, leaning one shoulder against the support post as I watched him scan the surrounding vegetation.
Yes, Cat replied, keeping his attention on the trees instead of me.
“For what?” I asked Cat, following the direction of his gaze and seeing nothing except trees and undergrowth.
Problems, Cat told me, turning his head toward the western edge of the clearing. I inspected the area again. The camp seemed exactly as it had five minutes earlier.
“You realize actual researchers built this, right? People who presumably considered the possibility that the forest contains things,” I asked Cat, gesturing toward the raised platform while he continued surveying the perimeter.
Humans miss things, Cat told me, finally meeting my eyes with enough calm certainty that arguing seemed pointless.
“Very flattering,” I informed Cat, although I couldn't entirely disagree with him. Leaves moved behind the platform before I could say anything else, and amber eyes appeared between two ferns.
“Oh no,” I muttered to the amber-eyed leopard, recognizing him as he pushed through the vegetation with his tail already moving.