The camera trap

Soft carpet, slow creepers, deep light, damp heavy hot forest air. By day she is a dark ghost, treading backwaters and subtle spaces: an alley cat.

Prideless, in night she is proud. She knows the denizens of the dark, and they know her, and flee or tease or disregard. She knows her place, and they know theirs.

She feels the shape of wire, the hot white attention of another hunter. A moment, then the dark settles itself; not long before the flash slides from her consciousness.

Several thousand miles away, a child perched before a screen nods and mouths: jaguar.

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