translated is going to be a nice change of pace.”
Sasha was a wildlife conservationist by trade. She was in India to find evidence of poaching to strengthen her case with the Indian government for establishing a reserve over a large section of the jungle. She had thought that a few good photos of the wildlife might great to have, which was where I came in.
“How long do you need me at the camp for?” I asked, reminding myself that I had an exhibition I needed to be home for in just a week’s time.
“It should only be a few days,” Sasha said, smiling as she squeezed my hand. “I won’t hold you hostage for too long.”
The ride out to the village where we were going to meet our guide took much longer than I’d expected, and before I knew it, I had fallen asleep as we bounced along the uneven dirt roads. The farther we went from the capital the less I started to be reminded of home.
While I slept, I dreamt of being deep in the jungle, lost and separated from everyone else. I couldn’t see anything beyond the thick undergrowth, but something in my gut told me that I was being watched. As the dream dragged on, I realized that I’d begun to hear a deep, menacing growl rumbling through the leaves all around me, and yet coming from nowhere all at the same time.
My heart raced, and all of a sudden, I knew that something had snuck up behind me, the growling replaced by a heavy, rasping breath right on the back of my neck. I turned around and as I stared into the eyes of the dream-conjured creature, my own eyes burst open and brought me back to reality as we went over a rather large bump in the road.
“Everything okay?” Sasha asked, turning her worried gaze to me.
“Yeah, just a bad dream,” I said, trying to assuage the concern brewing behind her eyes. “Dreamt I was about to get eaten by a tiger.”
“Jeeze,” she said, chuckling slightly, “a tiger? Well, lucky for you there aren’t supposed to be any in our area. And most tigers don’t eat people, anyway.”
“No? Then all those stories about man-eaters are just folk-tales?”
“Oh, no, man-eaters definitely exist,” Sasha said, suddenly a little more serious. “There haven’t been any near the camp, though, and tigers generally tend to keep away from people.”
“They must know what’s good for them,” I laughed, trying to settle back into a comfortable position.
“Yeah, you may be right.”
After the nightmare, I couldn’t get back to sleep. My head was filled with the thought of a ravenous tiger stalking me through the shadows. Instead, I watched out the window in the hopes of maybe catching a glimpse of wildlife along the way. Sadly, the only thing I managed to see was a rather unimpressed looking monkey sitting in one of the lower branches along the tree line. Needless to say, one monkey was hardly enough to relieve my boredom.
I knew India would hold exciting, new experiences for me, but I was more than a little impatient to get straight to them. I’d almost begun to think we’d never reach our rendezvous point when Sasha shook me from my lazy stupor.
“We’re here,” she said, a grin splitting her face from ear to ear. When the cars came to a stop, Sasha was practically already out the door, running into the arms of a rather strapping young man. I had to admit I was jealous—I’d never had much luck with men, and by the way Sasha looked at this new man in her life, I could only assume they were deeply in love.
“This is Tristan,” she said, locking arms with him as I approached. “He’s—”
“Your boyfriend?” I asked, smiling as I reached out to shake his hand, only to notice the golden ring adorning it.
“Much more than that,” Sasha said, beaming as she produced her own left hand, a thin, delicate duplicate of Tristan’s ring glimmering in the Indian sunlight.
“Oh, my God!” I exclaimed, locking my best friend in a bone
Legs McNeil, Jennifer Osborne, Peter Pavia