WILD RAIN
195
on her face, so lonely, so vulnerable, so much pain in her eyes. He didn’t dare gather her to him, he’d never let her go. He waded away from her.
“May all the magic of the forest be with you and may good fortune be your companion as you travel.” Her voice was rough with raw pain. “Good hunting, Rio.”
He stopped, keeping his back to her. He had glimpsed pain in her before. Knew the signs of trauma and betrayal. Was familiar with rage born of helplessness. The anguish went deep and left scars. He couldn’t look at her. Her suffering was harder to bear than his own. “I don’t know anything about love, Rachael. Meeting you was unexpected, but everything about you makes me happy. I’m coming back for you.”
He continued to wade out into the water. She was crying. Her tears would be the end of him. He’d rather face the entire bandit camp than face her tears. There was no way to change what he had to do. He couldn’t comfort her. There had been violence in her life. He recognized the signs. He could only hope that by doing what was necessary he didn’t lose his chance with her.
Rio went under the water, swimming through the narrow tunnel he had painstakingly scooped out and shored up with an artificial tube. It had taken several years to find the chamber and secure an entrance. He had several places scattered around the river and forest he could use if necessary. His people were a secretive, cautious species and he had learned over the years the value of preparation.
Once under the small falls, he swam underwater to the center of the river and allowed it to sweep him farther downstream. He didn’t want to leave tracks or scent for the hunter after he’d taken such careful precautions to keep Rachael safe. It was a risk leaving her in the chamber injured as she was. She had the weapons and light and food for several days, but still she could easily panic being underground. They were arboreal, preferring the high branches of the trees to the ground.
196
Christine Feehan
Rio spent many hours lying perfectly still, backup for his men. The others entered the camps to retrieve the victims. He remained outside from some vantage point, a marksman few could surpass, the last line of defense for his unit. He was used to the solitary life, living alone the way he did and carrying out his job, but unlike the leopard, his species were not meant to be alone. They mated for life and beyond. Rachael was certain to have a difficult time alone.
He exited the water a mile downstream from the waterfall, shifting into his animal form, happy to feel the full strength and power of his kind. He lifted his muzzle and scented the wind. At once he was flooded with information. He stretched languidly before springing easily over a fallen trunk. Dawn was beginning to break in the forest.
The thick, haunting mist shrouding the forest began to lift, slowly evaporating as the warmth of the sun penetrated the clouds. A chorus of birds began, each trying to outdo the other as the strange music rang through the trees. The range went from melodious to harsh, even tuneless,,as they all called to one another flitting from branch to branch. A burst of colors as birds took to wing signaled morning in the forest. Gibbons joined in, claiming territory with gurgling cries and whooping yells.
The leopard ignored the noisy flapping and whooshing of birds with great wings as he leapt into the lower branches of a nearby tree to make use of the overhead highway. The forest had stirred to life and Rio utilized the noisy chatter, hurrying through the trees back toward his home in the hopes of picking up the scent of the hunter. Rio made his way quickly back upriver, listening for calls of warning or sudden silences that would indicate an intruder was stalking through the territory of the pigtailed macaque. Timid and shy, the macaque would often leap to the forest floor and run when disturbed, another sign of trouble.