Page 210 of Beasts of Mine

“The rainforest is no longer my professional responsibility.” I told Mara as I signed my name, added the date, and handed the clipboard back.

“The rainforest is going to be devastated.” Mara replied as she checked my signature and secured the pen beneath the clip.

“I think it'll recover.” I assured Mara as my attention moved toward the cases lined along the wall.

Normally, seeing every case closed and accounted for satisfied something in me. It meant nothing was missing, nothing had been left unfinished, and I could move on without carrying a list of things I should've done differently. Today the exact same sight made my stomach tighten because those cases weren't only proof that the assignment was finished. They were proof that morning was coming.

Mara followed my gaze but didn't ask how I felt about leaving again. We'd already had that conversation, and she apparently remembered it well enough not to make me repeat myself simply because departure was finally here. Instead, she bumped the side of my boot lightly with hers.

“Congratulations.” Mara told me as she tucked the clipboard beneath her arm, a warm smile replacing the more familiar dry one. “Six weeks finished, client happy, and you've already managed to turn the emergency Wild Terrain job into three months in Patagonia. That's a pretty damn good way to leave.”

“Yeah. It really is.” I answered Mara as I smiled back, letting myself enjoy the accomplishment without immediately attaching everything else I was feeling to it.

“Good, because I'm still jealous about the pumas.” Mara replied as she picked up her mug from the neighboring table and peered into it before taking a cautious drink. “I get spreadsheets. You get pumas.”

“You could become a wildlife photographer.” I suggested to Mara as I pulled my overnight pack from beneath the neighboring chair and checked that the radio was still clipped to the side.

“I enjoy beds, roofs, bathrooms, and food that didn't travel in a backpack.” Mara told me as she counted each point on her fingers with the hand not holding her coffee.

“Those are admittedly strong arguments.” I agreed with Mara as I settled the lighter pack against my shoulder.

“And climate control.” Mara added as she lifted her mug toward the barely effective ceiling fan.

“Now you're just showing off.” I told Mara, smiling when she laughed again. Mara checked the departure sheet tucked beneath her clipboard before turning back toward me.

“Truck's here at six-thirty tomorrow. Cases outside by six-fifteen, and after that you're somebody else's logistical problem.” Mara reminded me as she ran one finger beneath the time.

“You say the sweetest things.” I told Mara as I tightened the pack strap and picked up the smaller camera bag I'd be taking to the temple.

“I try. Go enjoy your last night.” Mara replied with a small smile as she jerked her chin toward the door. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“I'll be here.” I promised Mara as I stepped backward toward the exit.

“I know.” Mara answered as she turned toward her desk and reached for another stack of paperwork.

The simple confidence in her response stayed with me as I stepped outside.

The western trail felt strange with almost nothing on my back. I carried water, the radio, locator, my personal bag, and one camera because apparently I was physically incapable of spending a final evening in a rainforest without one available. The rest of my equipment remained inside the station cases, and my shoulders kept anticipating straps and weight that weren't there.

The forest hadn't changed just because my contract had ended. Recent rain had darkened the soil between roots, moisture still clung to broad leaves along the trail, and tiny drops hit my forearms whenever I brushed too close to the vegetation. Mosquitoes found me within minutes. Somewhere higher in the canopy, a tanager moved through the branches, and I automatically slowed to follow it until the bird disappeared into foliage too dense for a usable photograph.

My hand had already moved toward the camera before I stopped myself. I didn't need another shot, and after six weeks of constantly calculating light, distance, angle, and whether a subject was worth following, that was going to take some getting used to.

The scarlet macaw found me before I reached the outer ruins. It dropped onto a branch several yards ahead with enough force to send water shaking from the leaves beneath it. Bright red feathers stood out against the dark green vegetation, and its black eye immediately moved from my smaller pack to my face.

You have less things, the macaw observed as it shuffled sideways along the branch, leaning far enough toward my bag that I half expected it to inspect the zipper personally.

“Most of my equipment is packed. I leave in the morning.” I told the macaw as I stepped carefully over a broad root cutting across the trail.

Good, the macaw declared as it launched itself toward the next tree, sounding so thoroughly unconvincing that I stopped walking.

“You've been complaining about me leaving for days.” I reminded the macaw as I planted one hand on my hip and looked up.

I did not, the macaw argued as it turned away and began attacking the torn edge of a leaf with suspicious intensity.

“You absolutely did.” I told the macaw as I resumed walking, smiling when wings beat overhead and the bird followed me instead of disappearing into the forest.

Forest quieter without human talking, the macaw informed me from another branch, puffing its chest as though it had finally produced an argument I couldn't challenge.