Page 53 of Trapped with the Forest Ranger
"That's... good." The words feel hollow in my mouth. I should tell him about Australia now, and lay all the cards on the table. Instead, I ask, "How were the trails?"
"Passable." He moves to the kitchenette, maintaining distance between us. "Ridge route is completely clear. There’s good visibility today."
"The eagle nesting site?"
He nods, something softening in his expression. "Perfect conditions. If you wanted one last try for your shot..."
"Really?" Hope flares despite my conflicted emotions.
"We need to leave soon to catch the right light." He glances at his watch. "I packed lunch, just in case you wanted to go."
The gesture touches me. Despite knowing I'm leaving, he's still thinking about my project and my father's legacy.
"I'd like that. Very much."
We prepare quickly, falling into the now-familiar routine of packing gear and hiking supplies. The effortlessness of our movements makes the emotional distance more painful by contrast. This could have been us, working in tandem, existing in the same rhythm.
If circumstances were different.
If I wasn’t leaving.
Am I?
The hike passes in relative silence, neither of us willing to broach the topics hovering between us. Instead, Caleb pointsout signs of wildlife I would have missed—tracks in softened earth, marks on tree bark, subtle indications of the forest returning to normal after the storms.
The trail climbs steadily, eventually opening onto the magnificent vista I remember from our previous visit. Today, the air is exceptionally clear, and visibility extends for miles across valleys. The ridges glow emerald in the midday sun, and the cliff face where the eagle’s nest stands in perfect relief against the blue sky.
"Perfect timing." Caleb gestures toward the distant nest. "Female's been hunting. She should return soon."
I unpack my camera equipment, mount the telephoto lens, and adjust the settings for the conditions. Caleb spreads a small tarp on the still-damp ground, creating a dry place to sit as we wait.
The silence between us has shifted from tense to contemplative. We’re both lost in our thoughts as we scan the horizon. When his hand finds mine on the rock between us, the contact startles me—the first he's initiated since last night's revelations.
"Whatever you decide," he says quietly, eyes still on the distant peaks, "I'm glad you got stranded in my cabin."
The simple honesty steals my breath. Before I can respond, his posture straightens, and his head tilts upward. "Three o'clock. Coming in from the south."
I follow his gaze, camera raised instinctively. Through the telephoto lens, I spot it—the magnificent golden eagle soaring on thermal currents, its wings extended in a majestic span, sunlight burnishing its feathers to a living bronze. It circles slowly, riding invisible air currents with effortless grace.
"It's beautiful," I whisper, tracking the bird's movement through my viewfinder.
"She's heading for the nest." Caleb'svoice remains low, mindful of carrying sound despite our distance. "Probably bringing food for the mate."
Sure enough, the eagle banks toward the cliff face, something clutched in her mighty talons. I adjust focus, finger hovering over the shutter release, waiting for the perfect moment.
The eagle approaches the nest with wings extended for landing, sunlight catching every detail of its magnificent plumage, the power in its form, the intensity of its focus. Time seems to slow as I find the composition I've been seeking for days—no, the one my father sought for years.
The essence of this apex predator captured in a single, perfect frame.
I press the shutter, and the camera's rapid fire captures a sequence of her landing. I've got it—the shot my father never managed to get, the one that eluded him through decades of patient watching.
"Got it?" Caleb asks, watching my face rather than the eagle.
"Yes." Emotion thickens my voice. "The perfect shot. Exactly what Dad was looking for all those years."
His hand squeezes mine, understanding the significance without need for explanation. "He'd be proud."
I lower the camera, and unexpected tears blur my vision. "Project complete." The words emerge bittersweet, accomplishment tangled with the realization that my purpose for being in Angel's Peak is fulfilled.
