by Amber Jacobs
Ashley snorted. “You don’t believe that, do you?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Whatever killed those men was flesh and blood,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what it was. But I’ve seen tiger attacks, and that wasn’t like any tiger attack I’ve ever heard of.”
Simon cleared his throat. “Could it have been…” He hesitated. “Well, could it have been a man?”
“Humans leave more tracks than any cat.” Tarun fixed each member of the group with a hard stare, finally settling his gaze on Ashley. “I think it would be for the best if we take extra care when we go out there. I’d like the chance to spend my commission.”
Each of them nodded, their expressions serious and somber.
“Good.” Tarun clapped his hands and stood up. “Anyone hungry? I know I am, after all that excitement.”
Somewhat unenthusiastic murmurs of agreement met his change of subject; Ashley could see that Grace and Simon were still a little queasy with the memory of the slashed bodies so fresh in their minds. While Grady helped Tarun with the supplies, Ashley took out her camera and a soft felt cloth, beginning the familiar routine of cleaning her equipment. She paused, repressing a sudden shiver as she felt the hairs at the nape of her neck prickle. Glancing over her shoulder into the pitch-dark jungle, she frowned thoughtfully a moment, then turned back to her task with a shrug.
She had the eerie sensation that someone—or something—was watching her.
Perched in the branches of a giant tree, she watched the campfire illuminate the faces of the group below. These people were not here to hunt, she could tell. Poachers liked to stay mobile and inconspicuous, and this group was carrying far too much equipment to qualify as either. Still, she intended to keep an eye on them all the same.
As she looked on, her eyes slightly narrowed at the obvious spirit of camaraderie displayed by the group, she found her attention settling more and more on the shorter of the two women. Something about the blonde stranger fascinated her. Called by a rare curiosity she couldn’t explain, the shadowy figure abandoned her lofty post and crept slowly closer to the camp, nostrils twitching at the dimly remembered scents of civilization. Eventually, she settled down in the thick undergrowth, perfectly camouflaged by the dark stripes across her form. Her shimmering blue eyes held an expression of fascination as she watched the young woman pick at her food.
The woman was small of frame, almost elfin, yet even her simplest movements bespoke a natural grace and strength. Her features were beautiful, but not uncommonly so. Still, the flash of her smile when one of her companions said something funny lit up her face and made her stand out from the others. Merriment and life sparkled in her mahogany brown eyes. There was something strange about her, something unusual. For the first time in years, the watcher felt a tingle of interest grip her, making her want to move closer to the woman.
For over an hour, she lay hidden in the shadows, body pressed against the dewy earth, watching, unable to tear herself away from the clearing. She knew she needed to leave, knew she would need to hunt soon if she wanted to eat that night. But she couldn’t convince her limbs to move. Even when the various people in the camp bade one another goodnight and retired to their individual tents, she couldn’t shake off the stranger’s lure. For another hour, she lay there in silence, frozen, wrestling against the inexplicable desire to actually enter the camp and see the woman again. Eventually, realizing she wasn’t going to get anywhere if she didn’t satisfy this interest and move on, the dark figure rose and prowled forward, leaving the shadows behind.
Wary, alert, ready to bolt at the least sound or scent that was out of place, she ventured slowly toward the small, domed tent into which the blonde had disappeared. Pausing outside, she sniffed the air cautiously, uncertain whether to proceed or retreat. After a minute, she eased down the tent zipper, pushed her head through the gap, and stepped inside.
It was dark in the tent, but years of hunting at night allowed her to make out the softly snoring form wrapped in a sleeping bag. Head cocked to the side, she moved closer, only barely resisting the urge to brush aside a lock of honey-colored hair that obscured her view. The stranger looked peaceful in slumber, her lips bowed slightly as though smiling at a pleasant dream. The dark figure bent forward, memorizing the woman’s scent, mesmerized, unable to prevent the low, rumbling purr that rose from deep in her belly. So caught up was she in watching the sleeping woman, it took her several seconds to acknowledge when the pale lashes flickered and parted, revealing sleepy brown eyes that quickly widened.
A flurry of movement startled her as the wakened blonde surged backward, tangled in the sleeping bag, frantic to escape. A heartbeat later, the still night was shattered by a piercing scream. Stunned, she stood frozen for a long moment; sapphire eyes locked with woodland brown, both of them breathing hard in shock. Finally, the sounds of alarm coming from the other tents managed to penetrate her momentary shock, and she snapped into motion.
Before the panicked blonde could draw breath for another scream, she whirled around and fled back outside, barely sparing a glance for the beams of torchlight already scanning the darkness. Diving back into the safety of the dense undergrowth, she scolded herself for ever indulging such a foolish curiosity.
Ashley struggled to regain control of her rapidly beating heart, still trying to get her mind caught up with what was going on. The strange creature was gone. She stared wide-eyed at the tent doorway, shaking, her breath coming in hard gasps. A moment later, Grady and Tarun appeared, the guide holding a rifle and sweeping the surrounding area with a torch.
“What happened?” Grady demanded, moving forward to check on her.
“I saw it!”
“What? What did you see?” Tarun stood guard at the doorway, still scanning the jungle.
Ashley stammered, confused. “I-I don’t…really know. It was gone so quickly.” Her eyes narrowed as she tried to remember exactly what she’d seen in the indistinct light. “It had light eyes…and stripes.”
“A tiger?” Tarun eyed her nervously. “Are you saying a tiger was in the camp?”
Ashley shook her head. “No, it wasn’t a tiger. It looked almost…human.”
“What?”
“I’m not sure.” Ashley shrugged helplessly, recovering her nerve quickly now that the intruder was gone. “I couldn’t see it very well. But it stood upright like a human. And its eyes seemed more human than feline.” She put a hand to her forehead, wishing she’d gotten a better look. “I’m sorry. I just woke up and there it was, right in front of me.” She chuckled shortly, willing herself to calm down. “It scared the shit out of me.”
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now.” Grady gave her a quick hug and a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
Tarun had moved away from her tent, shining the beam of his torch over the ground and kneeling to inspect something. When he looked back up, he was scowling. “There are no prints, human or otherwise.”
Ashley eyed him a little defensively. “Are you saying I imagined it?”
“No, I’m saying that what you saw was probably the same thing that killed those men.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
He smiled at her. “That’s okay.”
“Why did it come here?” Simon asked, shining his own flashlight over the surrounding jungle with a jittery hand. The timid man looked somewhat ridiculous standing there in his flannel pajamas, and Ashley stifled the urge to giggle at him.
Tarun shouldered his rifle and glared toward the jungle. “Maybe it was curious about us,” he guessed. “Perhaps it wanted to get a closer look. Let’s just hope it doesn’t decide we’re some kind of threat.”
“Maybe.” Ashley gave her friends a slightly embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry I woke you all.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Grady. “But you still look pretty shook up. Sure you don’t want some company for the night?” he off
ered. “I’ll be a gentleman.”
“Hah!” Ashley punched him softly on the arm. “I’ll be fine. Whatever it was, I think I scared it as much as it scared me.” Her eyes softened. “But thanks for the offer.”
“Okay. You call if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Grady and the others trailed back to their own tents, leaving Ashley to herself. She could hear them whispering among themselves and felt a bit sheepish. She hadn’t been that frightened in a long time. The shock of waking up to those piercing eyes still made her tremble.
Acknowledging that her keyed up nerves had chased away the prospect of sleep, Ashley lit a kerosene lamp and reached for the pile of books that lay next to her backpack. Grabbing one, she flipped it open and began to read about the great cats she was there to shoot.
Not so far away, a dark, striped figure used sharp claws to pull herself up into a tree. Settling down, still breathing hard from the encounter, she rested long moments in silence, wrestling with the desire to return and see again those mesmerizing eyes that seemed to call to her with a song stronger than any she’d heard before.
The next morning, Ashley slept in. She had finally drifted off early in the morning, her eyes strained from reading by lamplight. By the time she emerged from her tent, tousled and blinking in the light, all the rest of her companions were already up and about. She joined them around the cold ashes of the fire, and noticed that Tarun was absent. She guessed he was off checking for signs of their midnight intruder.
“Sleep okay?” Grady inquired as she sat beside him, his sincerity ruined only by the amusement in his eyes.
Ashley scowled. She usually had to kick him in the ribs to get him moving in the morning. “Fine, from about three o’clock onwards. After that thing woke me up, I had so much adrenaline in me I could have run a marathon. I stayed up and did a bit of reading.”
“Mmm, I saw the light. I’m afraid the coffee’s cold, but I saved you some breakfast.” He handed her a bowl of porridge, and she rewarded his consideration with a charming smile.
“Thanks.” She ate the sweetened oats eagerly, humming as the sugar helped kick-start her recalcitrant body. “Are we going to get the hide set up today?”
Grady nodded. “Yep. Tarun already found us a spot down by the river. Said there were a number of tracks and markings there, so you should get some good shots if you’re lucky. Once we’ve got you all set up, I was thinking I’d head over to the east ridge.” He gestured with a stick toward a ridge of rocky, treacherous-looking mountain that rose from the plains some distance away. “The view should be terrific.”
“Great. Maybe I’ll go up there with you tomorrow.”
“Sure, if you’d like.”
Ashley finished her breakfast and turned her attention to Simon and Grace. “Will you guys be staying with me in the hide?”
Simon nodded. “If a tiger shows up, we’ll let you get your shots, then tranquilize and tag it. It’s pretty routine stuff. If we can provide evidence to back up the reports of a white tiger, we’ll probably call in a team to come out and collect it.” He shook his head ruefully. “The zoos will go wild if we find it.”
Ashley had done her research, and knew the potential benefits that could be derived from the discovery of a white tiger in the wild. In the last hundred years, only a dozen or so white tigers had been reported, and with the rapid decline in the population of Bengal tigers—the only species to produce the white strain—that number was likely to drop a good deal farther, very quickly. The few specimens in captivity in the United States all owed their ancestry to Mohan, a white male who had been captured by a maharaja in 1951, and who had then been mated with his daughter to produce more white tiger cubs. This inbreeding was the only way of securing the color strain, unless another tiger could be captured that had the double recessive allele that produced the white pigmentation. As a result of inbreeding, the possibility of genetic defects, miscarriages, and early death rose with every new generation.
Ashley recalled the white tiger pictures she’d seen, taken of captive specimens in the National Zoo in Washington, D.C. Feline eyes that would normally be a tawny gold were instead a clear, piercing blue, and chocolate-colored stripes patterned snow-white coats. She shivered in anticipation. If she could bring home photos of a white tiger from the wild, her already impressive reputation would soar. Not to mention the sheer challenge of such an endeavor. It was an opportunity few ever saw, and Ashley didn’t intend to screw it up.
“Well,” she said, as she slapped her thighs and stood up, “sitting around here won’t get the hide built. Grady, why don’t you get the gear and meet me down by the river?” She scooped up the dirty dishes. “I’ll go on ahead. I can get these washed up and look for a good place to set up.”
“Fine. Simon, would you give me a hand with the heavy stuff?”
“Sure.”
Leaving the others to organize the aluminum poles and camouflage netting that formed their traveling hide, Ashley made her way to the river with the dishes.
She and Grady made a good team, and the magazine they worked for took advantage of their dynamic by sending them out together as often as possible. Though only twenty-six years old, Ashley possessed an innate talent for photographing wildlife, and it hadn’t taken long for her to impress her peers with a seemingly endless run of breathtaking shots. Not wanting to rely on talent alone, Ashley believed in always being prepared. Even now, with her arms cradling a load of dirty dishes, her camera was strapped around her neck and ready in case an opportunity presented itself.
Grady, on the other hand, was a scenic photographer. He never failed to find beauty and majesty in whatever landscape presented itself, whether deserts and grass plains or oceans and cityscapes. Ashley enjoyed having him as her partner largely because of his adaptability and patience; his work often required him to wait hours for just the right lighting, and some of the prep-work setting up his shots could get pretty elaborate. It also didn’t hurt that he rarely tried to discourage her when she wanted to do something a little “out there.”
Since they’d started going on expeditions together, three years ago, their body of work had attracted national acclaim and earned them a string of prestigious and ever-more-challenging assignments. Ashley knew she had particularly impressed her superiors with her work capturing dangerous wildlife in spectacular settings, and it showed in the fact that in the last year or so, more and more assignments took her and Grady into potentially hazardous regions of the world. Ashley had enough professional ambition that she was willing to take greater risks to find the perfect images she wanted, and this had earned her a reputation for fearlessness and tenacity.
They had set up camp some distance from the water source, not wanting to scare the wildlife away from their drinking spot, and the hike served to wake Ashley more thoroughly. By the time she reached the edge of the sluggish river, she was sweating lightly in the humid heat, but feeling quite happy. Ashley liked the jungle, and the Bandhavgarh National Park was one of the nicest she had ever visited. Located in the Vindhya Mountains of Madhya Pradesh, the small park boasted the highest population density of tigers in the country. Furthermore, it was known for its white tigers, sometimes going by the name of “White Tiger Territory.”
Of course, tigers weren’t the only thing worthy of note. In any direction were insects of every type and birds of every color. It was never truly quiet here; the jungle creatures constantly communicated in a myriad of fascinating ways—the stuttering chatter of monkeys, screeches and cries of parrots and hornbills, and more ominous sounds less easily identified.
This was Ashley’s first trip to India, and what she had seen so far was enough to make her want a return visit. While she didn’t much care for the crowded cities—she had never liked the feeling of being crushed against so many other people—the rural areas were fascinating. There was a general atmosphere of respect fo
r the animals of the land that was rare in most developed countries. Ashley had seen monkeys, peacocks, and even the deadly cobra living in apparent harmony with the people, who tolerated, and even paid tribute to their company. In one of the larger towns, Ashley had seen street performers dress up like monkeys and mimic the actions of the mischievous creatures. An English-speaking tourist had told her the performers were paying homage to Hanuman, one of the Hindu gods.
As someone who had always loved animals, and who now made a living from photographing them, Ashley could appreciate the kind of relationship the people of India had with their native wildlife. Outside of tribal cultures, it was rare to find such deification. Wandering along the course of the river now, stepping over a downed tree that crossed her path, Ashley started looking around for a safe place to wash the empty bowls.
Distracted by the sights and sounds of the jungle around her, Ashley’s attention was brought back to sudden focus when she rounded a bend in the river and found she had company. A large, burly man stood not thirty feet from her. Crouched low against a tree, dressed in army fatigues and camouflage shirt, he was studying the edge of the water. Ashley first thought he was a ranger, and she very nearly called a greeting. Then she noticed the menacing-looking hunting rifle he held. Rangers didn’t carry such formidable equipment. Ashley’s eyes widened. She gave a silent prayer of thanks that the man, whom she now realized must be a poacher, had his back to her.
Very slowly and carefully, Ashley edged a few steps backward, considering her options. This man might have friends out there somewhere—she knew poachers generally worked in groups—and she scanned the dense jungle cautiously for any sign that she had been spotted. Nothing seemed amiss, but that didn’t count for much. There was enough cover to hide an army of poachers. She needed to get back to Tarun so he could alert the park rangers. They’d know how to deal with this. Decision made, Ashley continued backing slowly away from the man.
