The first is black-and-white Jim Corbett standing over the corpse of the Champawat Tiger.
His expression is grim, resolute, the muzzle of the tiger still wet with blood.
The second is older, sepia toned.
Colonel Patterson, posed above one of the Tsavo lions, its massive body stretched out some hellish trophy.
The eyes are lifeless.
The message isn't.
And above both photos, centered in an elegant brass placard, a single quote:
"The predators must prey. The prey must be predated. They only wish to be preyed upon by someone who'll do the job properly."
—Chuck Palahniuk
I stare.
It's not subtle.
No photos of family.
No affirmations.
Just hunters.
Lions.
Tigers.
Death.
And desire to be preyed on properly.
This isn't decoration.
This is declaration.
She knew I'd come.
Knew I'd see.
And this, this is how she chose to speak.
Not with fear.
With precision.
With teeth.
She's not lost in the woods anymore.
She's laying traps in them.
A challenge.
A quiet, calculated provocation.