Almost immediately Rio noticed the branches of a small shrub, just below the tree where the orangutan nested, started to quiver. It was low on the ground, an unusual choice for one of his kind. Rio watched carefully and saw the bushes move a second time, just a slight shiver, as if the wind passed by. He eased his rifle into position, careful not to make the same mistake. Back farther into the ferns and shrubs, he could make out the bruised and torn petals of an orchid scattered on top of a fallen and rotten trunk.

Rio remained unmoving, watching the area closely. Time passed. The rain fell in a steady rhythm. There was no more movement in the thick shrubbery, but he was certain the sniper lay in wait there. Several nocturnal flying squirrels leapt into the air, fleeing a tree directly across from Rio. They chattered and scolded to one another as they landed, clinging to the branches in a neighboring tree. Twigs and petals cascaded in a small shower onto the rotten log and shrubbery below. Rio smiled. “Good Franz,” he whispered to himself. “Good hunting, boy.” His eyes never left the forest floor.

A boot heel dug a short groove in the vegetation as the sniper shifted to get a glimpse of the treetops over his head. Rio squeezed off three shots in rapid succession, spacing each bullet up the line of the body just as the intruder realized he was exposed. The sniper screamed as he rolled over a small embankment, then abruptly was silent.

Rio was already running along the branch highway, changing position, closing in on his target. He coughed twice, dropping flat both times to distort the sound, signaling to Franz to circle around and stay under shelter, then he was up and running again, covering as much ground as possible before the sniper could possibly recover.

Rio was far more comfortable stalking prey from the treetops, but he began to make the descent to the lower reaches, using thick branches to move quickly from tree to tree, careful to keep to cover as he did so. He dropped to the forest floor, landing in a crouch and going completely motionless, blending into the deeper shadows of the forest.

He was silent, scenting the wind. Blood was a distinctive odor, unmistakable in the air. Drops of rain penetrated the canopy and splattered onto the rotting vegetation. A bright green lizard raced up the trunk of the tree, the motion drawing his attention. A red splotch smeared a lacy fern embedded in the bark. Rio remained still, his gaze relentlessly sweeping the terrain searching for any movement, any sign of the intruder.