Chapter 9 #3
You moved, the amber-eyed leopard told me, approaching with enough enthusiasm to suggest I'd deliberately hidden the camp from him.
“You too? Is there some sort of leopard group chat I don't know about?” I asked the amber-eyed leopard, watching him head directly toward the steps.
What is a group chat? the amber-eyed leopard asked me, immediately changing direction when he caught sight of my field pack.
Cat made a low warning sound.
The amber-eyed leopard stopped.
For approximately one second.
Then his neck stretched toward the bag.
“Absolutely not,” I told the amber-eyed leopard, stepping between him and my equipment while pointing firmly away from the zipper.
I remember the rule, the amber-eyed leopard assured me, sitting down even though his attention remained fixed on the bag behind my legs.
“No, you remember getting caught,” I corrected the amber-eyed leopard, folding my arms as his mouth opened slightly in unmistakable amusement. I still hadn't figured out what to call him. Annoying was accurate but lacked distinction. Menace had possibilities.
Before I could settle on anything, movement caught my attention along the far edge of the clearing. The darker leopard appeared almost silently and, unlike the other one, paused where the vegetation opened to survey the entire camp before coming closer.
“There he is. The civilized one,” I greeted the darker leopard, smiling as he crossed through a patch of filtered sunlight with considerably more dignity than his amber-eyed companion had managed.
You still think I'm the rude one? the amber-eyed leopard asked me, twisting toward me with an offended expression as though one afternoon should have completely changed my opinion of him.
“You've been here thirty seconds and already tried to get into my bag,” I reminded the amber-eyed leopard, pointing toward the evidence behind me while he sat straighter.
I stopped, the amber-eyed leopard told me, looking deeply proud of the accomplishment.
“Because Cat threatened you,” I replied to the amber-eyed leopard, glancing toward Cat as he deliberately turned his attention elsewhere. The darker leopard approached the platform and inspected the steps before raising his head toward the shelter.
You are sleeping here? the darker leopard asked me, his green-gold eyes traveling over the cot visible through the open side.
“For a few nights. Photography assignment. Good wildlife activity,” I told the darker leopard, stepping aside so he could see more of the platform. His attention moved toward the thicker forest southeast of camp.
Water? the darker leopard asked me, turning his head back while one ear remained angled toward the trees.
“There's a stream that way. Mara walked me to the route,” I told the darker leopard, pointing toward the marked side trail.
Come, the darker leopard told me, rising and starting toward the vegetation as if that single word explained his entire plan. I blinked as his tail disappeared between the first broad leaves.
“Excuse me?” I asked the darker leopard, remaining beside the platform while he stopped and glanced back.
Come, the darker leopard repeated, his green-gold eyes fixed patiently on me. The amber-eyed leopard immediately started after him, while Cat rose more slowly from beside the platform.
“This feels suspiciously like I'm being kidnapped by wildlife,” I told all three leopards, reaching for my camera anyway because apparently that wasn't enough to stop me.
Bring water, Cat instructed me, waiting beside the trail while his gaze dropped pointedly toward the bottle hanging near my pack.
“Bossy,” I told Cat, grabbing the bottle and clipping the radio securely onto my waistband while he gave me one long, unimpressed blink.
The darker leopard didn't follow Mara's route, which bothered me for approximately thirty seconds until I understood why.
The marked path curved downhill through a muddy section I'd already noticed during the walk in, while he kept us on higher ground, weaving between massive roots before rejoining the official route closer to the stream.
The alternative was drier and considerably easier.
“You knew a better way,” I told the darker leopard, stepping over a fallen branch while he stopped several feet ahead and waited for me to catch up.
Yes, the darker leopard replied, watching until I reached him before continuing at the same measured pace.
“Of course you did,” I muttered to the darker leopard, shaking my head as I followed.
The stream appeared between the trees a few minutes later, narrower than the creek where I normally met Cat, with water clear enough to reveal pale stones along the bottom.
The darker leopard continued upstream rather than stopping at the first access point, and I followed with Cat behind me.
The amber-eyed leopard disappeared into the vegetation to my right and reappeared less than half a minute later carrying a round yellow-orange fruit between his teeth.
He trotted toward me and dropped it directly in front of my boots with enough pride in his posture that I nearly laughed before I even understood what he was doing.
“Is this for me?” I asked the amber-eyed leopard, crouching beside the slightly bruised fruit while he sat in front of me with his chest lifted.
Yes, the amber-eyed leopard told me, raising his head as though he'd just accomplished something requiring tremendous skill.
“Do I want to know where you found this?” I asked the amber-eyed leopard, turning the fruit carefully in one hand while checking the skin for insects.
Tree, the amber-eyed leopard replied, looking completely serious as his tail curled around one hind leg.
I stared at him.
“Very informative,” I told the amber-eyed leopard, sliding the fruit into the outer pocket of my bag while trying not to smile.
His tail flicked immediately, and he looked absurdly pleased that I'd kept it. The darker leopard continued upstream until he reached a narrower stretch where water moved quickly over clean stone.
Better, the darker leopard told me, lowering his head toward the stream before glancing at the firm bank beneath my boots. I crouched beside him and immediately noticed that the soil was more stable here, the water clearer, and there were far fewer tracks along the edge.
“Less animal traffic,” I told the darker leopard, studying the mud while I unscrewed my bottle.
Yes, the darker leopard replied, settling onto his haunches as though pleased I'd noticed.
“You brought me somewhere safer to collect water,” I told the darker leopard, finally understanding how deliberate the detour had been.
Yes, the darker leopard repeated, tipping his ears forward as though that should have been obvious from the beginning.
I glanced toward Cat and found him entirely unsurprised, then looked toward the amber-eyed leopard, who was attempting to smell the fruit he'd just given me through the side of my bag.
“You three are weird,” I told all of them, laughing as I pulled out the filter and started filling the container.
You keep saying that, Cat reminded me, sitting near the bank while his attention remained on the surrounding forest.
“Because you keep proving me right,” I told Cat, smiling as I filtered the water into the clean bottle.
The walk back took longer because the darker leopard stopped twice.
The first time, he simply stood in the middle of the trail and stared into the trees, and I nearly walked into Cat while trying to figure out what had caught his attention.
Then something moved overhead.
A troop of squirrel monkeys crossed the canopy.
I lifted my camera and, for the next ten minutes, forgot the leopards existed.
The monkeys moved quickly enough to make focusing difficult, leaping between branches while leaves interrupted almost every clean shot.
I shifted around one trunk, crouched lower, changed angles, and finally caught a juvenile hanging upside down while another reached toward its tail.
The shutter clicked.
Perfect.
When I lowered the camera, all three leopards were watching me.
“What?” I asked the three leopards, straightening as I checked the image and found every pair of eyes still fixed in my direction.
She makes the face, the amber-eyed leopard told the darker one, turning toward him with obvious amusement.
Yes, the darker leopard agreed, glancing at me while his whiskers shifted slightly.
“What face?” I asked both leopards, lowering the camera as suspicion replaced my satisfaction.
The one where you forget everything else, Cat told me, rising and starting toward camp while his tail brushed through the ferns.
“I do not have a face,” I told Cat, hurrying after him while the camera bounced lightly against my chest.
You do, Cat replied, glancing back just long enough for me to see the amusement in his golden-brown eyes. The amber-eyed leopard made a sound that was unmistakably laughter, and I spent most of the walk back arguing with all three of them about a facial expression I still maintained didn't exist.
By late afternoon, I'd decided the field camp might be the best assignment decision I'd made all month.
The blind produced a pair of agoutis, three separate toucans, and a family of peccaries moving along the far end of the clearing.
I filled nearly half a memory card before the light began to flatten, while the leopards disappeared and reappeared throughout the afternoon.
Cat stayed closest. Sometimes I caught sight of him beyond the blind, moving through vegetation with a deliberate quiet that made me wonder how often he'd watched me without being noticed.
Other times he simply rested near the platform facing outward, listening to the forest instead of paying any obvious attention to me.
The amber-eyed leopard seemed physically incapable of remaining anywhere for long. He brought me another fruit, then a feather, then a smooth stone and, for reasons known only to him, a stick.
I accepted the first three.
The stick was where I drew the line.