Page 40 of Golden Burn

“Are you excited?” She asks as I approach.

“So much! I think I might throw up or cry. I’ll definitely be crying.”

Martise laughs and ushers me over to the two safari jeeps. Khaki in color, with open roofs, they have even added features for taking pictures or resting camera equipment. I haul myself inside the first one, Odin right behind me. Ford and Martise hop in the other. A ranger is already seated in the driver’s seat in ours and introduces himself as Lance.

“You have brought the good weather with you. Before you came, it was raining every day, filling the rivers. The hiatus means we can go in the cars, rather than through the water.”

“But can we go in the river, too?” I ask.

Ford shouts from the other car. “NO!”

I chuckle and turn to Odin. He nods. “As long as you stay inside and don’t decide to go swimming.”

“I would never.” I flutter my eyelashes innocently.

Odin rolls his eye and adjusts himself in the seat next to me. His long-sleeved navy shirt pulls at his chest and arms, pools in at the neck, revealing muscle and coarse hair and skin. His legs are relaxed in a dangerous position, but I keep my eyes averted.

Spinning away, I sit on the edge of my seat and try not to giggle. I’m so thrilled it feels like my heart has grown wings and exploded free of my ribcage to soar above my head.

The Jeep’s engine kicks, moving down the dirt road that leads to the southwestern wildlands of Zambia. It’s obvious as we move how swollen the rivers are, the added water making the jungle fresher, denser. There are bursts of intense green foliage, flowering trees, and most of the dryer patches are pressed down and muddy.

“The Luangwa Valley is known for its high population of leopards. Hopefully, we can see some today,” Lance informs us, steering the jeep along the worn paths, his eyes scanning the vegetation around us. I do the same, straining my vision to spot movement or a change in color. Nothingfor the first few minutes. Then, as we round a corner of tangled and glorious ebony trees, a marshy section of the land comes into view. And, standing amongst the shallow water smothered with floating weeds, is a herd of puku. They huddle together, a few dozen at least, brown and dotted with white patches of fur, very similar to a deer. The males are obvious from the two horns poking atop their heads, but the females out number them tremendously.

Lance slows down the car so we can have a good look. “The puku gather together during the rainy season for added safety.”

The herd is on the right of the truck—my side. Without turning away in case they decide to disappear, I swing my hand back and grab onto Odin’s arm. “Can you see? Am I blocking you?”

Odin’s bicep flexes under my touch. “I can see.”

Mouth open wide, heart hammering, Lance keeps the truck moving. I turn and find Ford’s attention, pointing enthusiastically at the puku. He laughs, nodding.

The humidity in the air makes my underarms sweat, but I slathered myself in deodorant for that specific reason and I don’t particularly care. I would hop off this truck and roll myself around in the dirt if it meant I could get closer to the animals.

After another twenty minutes, we start heading into a section of land that’s more densely populated with cork oak trees—Lance informs me of their name (I gobble down every piece of information he shares).

The ground is littered with leaves and the air is heated as if a presence watches us from a hidden place. Sure enough, Lance decelerates, retrieves his binoculars, and points up into one of the trees. “Ah, what a lucky sight. Looks like he’s got a fresh kill.”

I rise on my knees and peer up into the tree. Hanging off one of the thicker branches is a leopard, sitting pretty with a freshly slain puku. Myhand flies to my mouth as I observe it licking its paws, smug with his meal.

Lance passes me my own set of binoculars, and I take them eagerly, lining them up until the leopard comes into view, so close and so detailed. I’m teary immediately, unable to help it. Jesus. I haven’t cried this number of tears—both happy and sad—in such a long time. Not since my mom’s funeral. In fact, I thought I had none left to shed after a year of grieving, shedding the woman I used to be when my mother was alive to wrap me in her arms.

Kacey Musgraves’ song ‘Happy and Sad’ starts playing in my head, quickly followed by ‘Oh What a World.’ Both of them describe exactly what I’m feeling without having to explain it. The music speaks what my words cannot.

The leopard is stunning. The spots are rich in color and evenly spaced, able to blend in seamlessly with its surroundings. We watch it eat for almost half an hour. It might be gruesome for some, but I’m enrapt with the whole thing. The length of its incisors, its impressive paws, its blood tipped whiskers.

Lance deems it time to move on, and as much as I want to ask if we can stay, I know there’s more he wants to show us.

Once away from the leopard, I slump into my seat, awestruck. My hand falls onto the leather next to Odin’s, just missing his. There’s a charge of energy, an electric spark. It’s so conflicting to think about this day as amazing, considering how I got here. But how can I not? Odin could have taken me anywhere in the world and he took me here.

I turn to face him. Both our gazes are blocked by the sunglasses on our faces, but I still feel the heat of his as if he wore nothing at all.

I open my mouth, with every intention of thanking him, when I see something in the distance, just above Odin’s head. Gasping, I shoot to a standing position and tap Lance on the shoulder. “Stop, stop!”

A mother elephant and her calf are striding casually through the brush to get to the river. Leaping forward to get a closer look, I rest one hand on Odin’s shoulder and the other on his thigh. He stills as I lean over him, my chest coming precariously close to his face. The elephant and her calf stop near the river’s edge and take a slow drink. I’m losing my mind from all the over-stimulation. My brain is tremendously slow to process the closeness, the majesty of these animals while my palms are touching Odin, purring at how good he feels.

My body tilts closer, my hands reach for the other side of the car. Odin places his arm across my chest, stopping me from falling out and into the mud.

“That’s close enough,” he says, his voice incredibly deep.

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