Alone and on foot, the three rangers took off in pursuit. The crocodiles sunning themselves on the banks paid them little mind as the humans splashed through the river toward the origin of the gunshot.

Simon felt sick to his stomach as he watched the large mother lying on the ground, snorting blood out of her nostrils. The creature had stumbled for a good ten seconds before it lost its footing. It now flailed hopelessly, only accelerating its own demise as impossible amounts of blood pooled in the dry, cracked dirt beneath it.

Simon had killed chickens and rodents for his family since he was a little boy. He hadn’t thought this would be different. But there was something much more complex and emotional about the death of this creature—something almost human about the sadness and desperation in its eyes.

Nearby, the baby rhino watched his mother with horror. At each failed attempt by the mother to rise, the baby wailed. The whole affair had gone on for minutes and showed no sign of ending anytime soon.

Simon implored the poachers, “Please, kill it.”

One of the men raised his silenced hunting rifle, but the leader—the man with the AK-47—stopped him. “No. Save the bullet.”

He slung the assault rifle behind him and approached the rhino with a small ax. Gripping the mother’s horn in one hand, he cocked his arm to swing down.

“Wait.” The poacher with the hunting rifle shushed the others, then pointed southwest. All three men scanned the brush near the river. Simon sensed the danger, even without knowing what form it took.

The poacher with the rifle flattened out in the grass, shouldering his weapon. The leader put his handheld radio to his ear and shook his head. Keying off their movements, Simon lowered himself on his belly until all he could see was the grass directly in front of his eyes.

Cobus, Basani, and Lawrence slithered up the berm at the river’s edge. The top grew thick with vegetation that hadn’t been swept away by the big rains earlier in the year.

Lawrence squinted at the grass beyond the trees. Then he saw the unmistakable glint of a rifle scope. thump! Lawrence ducked as bark exploded from the tree beside him, showering him with splinters.

Cobus’s instincts and training took over. He hand signaled for Basani and Lawrence to drop back down the berm and maneuver to flank the enemy.

Cobus moved with military decisiveness, crouch-sprinting from cover to cover, feeling the adrenaline ratchet up his heart rate.

thump! A round struck a tree next to Cobus as he darted past. He dropped to one knee and traded fire with the poachers, less concerned with hitting someone than with providing suppressive fire for his comrades.

Lawrence and Basani keyed off Cobus’s movements, leapfrogging in perfect synchronicity as he sent lead in the direction of the threat. The AK-47 cracked, the suppressed hunting rifle thumped, and the rangers’ assault rifles boomed.