Gina and the shaman cleaned Rix’s two bullet wounds, and Gina started Rix on a wide-spectrum antibiotic. Since he was in no condition to travel, it was decided that it would be best if Rix stayed behind with Daniel, Patrick, and Martin, who planned to remain in the village for another several weeks and continue Daniel’s research.

The rest of us—Gina, Andy, Vern, Darnell, Diego, Camila, and I—woke up early on the morning of August 24 and started the twenty-two-mile trek back to base camp.

When we made camp that night, Camila began squeaking loudly. It took us a few moments to notice a large female sloth hanging from one of the nearby trees. Diego set Camila on a branch of the same tree. Curious, Camila slowly made her way over to the wild sloth. When she was within a couple of feet, Camila’s eyes opened wide and her tiny mouth turned up into the most magnificent little smile. When we woke up the next morning, Camila was nestled into the side of the wild sloth. Diego was both tearful and happy as he said, “I think this her new home.”

We all spent a few minutes saying goodbye to Camila. I gave her a tickle on the tummy, a few kisses on the nose, and thanked her for saving my and Gina’s lives.

Several hours later, when we arrived back at base camp, everything was gone. The place had been packed up and cleared out. We were setting up our tents to make a camp of our own when we heard the thwack of an approaching helicopter.

Holland had been watching the GPS beacons he’d made Diego, Andy, Darnell, and me attach to our packs and had instructed the helicopter pilot to make one last trip to pull us out.

When Holland asked where Rix was, we explained how Rix had been shot, and that he was still recuperating in the village. A week later, Holland would take another helicopter flight to the village and have Rix airlifted out. Rix would spend two days in a hospital in Guayaramerín, but he would heal up nicely, and according to Andy, Rix had recently joined his TAFLS partner in the jungles of Madagascar to assist on their latest project.

The helicopter dropped us in Riberalta, where I said goodbye to Diego. I told him that I hoped to see him again someday, though part of me hoped I wouldn’t.

At least not in Bolivia.

I’d expected Vern to join us on the flight back to La Paz, but he said he was staying in Riberalta for a few more days. He had a twinkle in his eye, and although I couldn’t be certain, I think it had something to do with his missing maroon hat. I had a feeling that wherever it was in that jungle, it was marking something.