Part 6
Lena kept the team behind the screens for ten more minutes.
When she finally released them, Mack came out last. The transport crates held flattened bedding, claw marks, and the stale warmth of the animals that had occupied them.
He checked the mother’s latch even though the open door made the task unnecessary.
Lena joined him. “I thought you might call to him.”
“So did I.”
They folded the western screen together.
Seven months later, during Mack’s final week in uniform, a routine camera inspection took them back into the release corridor. Monsoon runoff had damaged part of the access trail, and winter rain had left the rocks slick.
Lena crossed a narrow wash first. She did not reach back to guide him. Mack examined the direct route, chose a longer line around the damaged shelf, and met her on the other side.
She waited without comment.
The remote camera stood above a spring where deer and javelinas had worn paths through the reeds. Mack checked the housing while Lena loaded the memory card onto a field tablet.
Most clips showed empty water, moving grass, or animals too small to trigger more than a blur. The jaguars appeared near the end.
The female entered at dusk. Her coat looked heavier than Mack remembered, and the tracking collar had nearly disappeared beneath the fur around her neck. She lowered her head to drink.
When she turned, the injured paw touched down lightly. The familiar hitch moved through her shoulder, but she crossed the mud without hesitation and stepped over a fallen sycamore branch.
The black young male followed.
He was close to the age when he might leave his mother and establish a range of his own. For now, he drank downstream from her and lifted his head toward the camera. Evening light revealed the rosettes inside his dark coat.
The female continued south. The young male waited until she had cleared the fallen branch, then stepped into the same opening and disappeared behind her.
The camera recorded the empty spring for another twelve seconds.
Lena returned the tablet to Mack. She started up the trail, choosing her own pace. Where the path narrowed, she stayed close enough that he could hear her boots on the stones.
Mack followed without asking her to slow down.
When the wind dropped, he could hear the spring running beneath the grass.