Pedwali on the Forest Road

the story

The track was empty and the light was flat and grey, the kind of morning where the forest keeps its colours to itself. Everything beyond fifty metres had already softened into haze. Then Pedwali stepped out from behind a tree and onto the road. She was calling to her cubs, her mouth open, that low sound carrying further through the trees than it seems it should. She kept walking towards us down the centre of the track, unhurried, and for a few seconds she was the only thing in the frame with any warmth in it at all.

the encounter

I had been watching the track ahead, where the path curves away and loses itself in mist. Pedwali appeared from behind a tree at the edge of the road, already moving, already calling to her cubs. I framed her against the length of the track so the emptiness behind her did the work — the dark trunks, the dry leaves banked along the verge, the pale line of the road. She kept coming forward at a steady walk, tail up, and looked directly down the lens.