Coddiwomple - S.E. Harmon Page 0,1

on the reserve four days this week, and most of those days, I’d felt her tracking me. This was the first time she’d decided to let me see her. She sat close enough to monitor what I was doing, but never close enough to touch. I was definitely all right with that.

“If I can’t get this shot in the next fifteen minutes, this whole day was a fucking waste,” I muttered to Cheetah. “Stellar company aside, of course.”

She groomed herself, clearly giving zero fucks that I’d been lying on my belly in the dirt for most of the afternoon with sweat trickling from my every pore. I didn’t miss the irony that I was lying next to a cheetah waiting for pictures of glorified deer, but the heart wants what it wants. In this case, National Geographic wanted what it wanted, and I didn’t intend to leave without a shot of some springbok.

Too bad Nat Geo wasn’t interested in a picture of an extremely nosy cheetah.

“Apparently, you’re passé,” I informed her.

She yawned, exposing a mouthful of wicked-sharp teeth, clearly not concerned that the powers that be didn’t want a picture of her beautiful mug. I’d taken several anyway, enough that she’d stalked off several times, tail flicking with irritation.

“I wish I could scratch you behind the ears,” I told her. “I think you’d like it.”

I widened my eyes in tandem with the narrowing of hers. “You’re not going to claw my face off now, are you?” I asked, alarmed.

She flicked her tail and it thumped against my camera bag.

Suva chuckled. “Lahja, she is good listener, yes?” His Afrikaans accent was melodic and sibilant. “I’ve told her many things. If she ever starts talking, I may have to kill her.”

“Well, now you’ve ruined any incentive she had to break the animal code of silence,” I complained.

Suva laughed, his teeth flashing white against his umber skin.

The sun began its descent in the sky, molten gold surrounded by red and streaks of pink. I took a few pictures of Lahja, and she yawned in the middle of one, making it look like she was sticking out her tongue. I chuckled. “Well, I was looking for a new screen saver, and that’s too perfect.”

Just as I was ready to throw in the towel, there they were. A gathering of springbok made their way across the desert, leisurely, like I hadn’t been waiting half a day for their asses. And just where the hell have ya’ll been? I was surprised they weren’t carrying yoga mats and Starbucks cups.

I snapped photos, almost forgetting to breathe. The suspended dust that seemed to never go away only added to the atmosphere of mystery. When everything worked together—the lighting, the timing, the subject matter—it was pure magic. At least, it was until an approaching Land Rover ruined everything. After an obligatory pause for shock, the springbok scattered. Lahja loped off, glancing back at the vehicle once before she disappeared in the brush. I stood slowly, stiff down to my toes, hacking on a cloud of dust.

Irritation flickered through me as the tourist group passed. A woman in a panama hat waved from the back row, smiling widely, and even though she’d possibly cost me some shots, I couldn’t help but smile in return. Her joy was fucking contagious. I didn’t blame the sightseers. We were doing something that not a lot of people got the opportunity to do, and I’d be a fool not to take a moment to appreciate how special that was.

But for the moment, my love of nature was over. Now I wanted to appreciate how special a shower could be. I hobbled over to my ATV and climbed on, already dreading the bumpy ride back to camp.

“Are you in the mood for some dinner?” Suva’s ATV roared to life beside mine. “Maybe some of that stew you like so much?”

My stomach rumbled, not even giving me the chance to decide. “Potjiekos,” I tried, the word still strange on my lips.

He laughed in that way that foreign people do when you try to speak their language and wind up butchering the hell out of it. Like they were saying, “Not quite, but I love that you tried. Bless your heart.”

“Close enough,” he said. “I’ll make a local of you yet.”

I opened my mouth to say something when a shadow caught my eye. I turned to find a lion standing on the dunes, just a ghostly figure in the encroaching darkness. “Phantom,” I murmured.

Christ, now my trip