Happy life of a snow leopard

First published in Italian in Menelique, #6. Included in La vita privata degli animali, a story collection with illustrations by Manfredi Ciminale (Hoppipolla, Pescara, 2026). Translated into English by the author.

———

Hamed thought about the things of Ladakh that he couldn’t stand. First of all, the thin air: despite having spent a lifetime in those mountains, he still got easily out of breath. He hated the silence that made every noise freeze your blood – a distant landslide, the cry of an eagle or the howl of a wolf. He hated the everlasting shadow in the parched gorges that enveloped him and his clients on expeditions. And he hated the carmine red and beige colours — when had mountains ever been seen like that? In his Kashmir, it was different: dark rock and trees everywhere. In Ladakh, on the other hand, not a tuft of grass grew; only stunted bushes and dead vegetation grew there, and then dust, dust, dust. He also hated the Ladakhis who worked with him. They had filthy skin and stank, and every morning they prayed to a deity who threatened never to let you die.

But the thing he hated most was nostalgia. Thirty or forty years earlier, he had come to the Himalayas in search of adventure and money — and he had found them. At the time, he loved the things he now despised — except for Buddhism, of course; that was still the domain of imbeciles. What would his parents have thought of his hatred of work and land? But they were dead, like everyone else, and now they were in heaven, Mashallah. It was useless to make a drama out of a crisis.

“I can’t take any more of this tea. I’d like something stronger,” Javier told his wife.

It was evening and they were sitting on the ground in the communal tent. In the anteroom, the Ladakhis were preparing the customary dinner of lentils and rice. Having fallen behind schedule by several days, the food that the couple had brought with them had run out. They had eaten things that the Ladakhi and Hamed had never seen in their lives, such as tomatoes, almost every day. The rich could still get their hands on fruits that, for most of humanity, were only a distant memory.

“Stop it, Javier,” Elvira hissed. “You’re disrespecting Mr Hamed. Besides, you know we didn’t bring any alcohol.” Leaning towards her husband, she stopped stroking her son’s forehead for a moment. He had fallen asleep with his head on her lap. He was a thin, fair-skinned child who never opened his mouth.

“It was just a figure of speech. Take it easy.”

“Believe me,” Hamed said, not looking at either of them, “it’s not like I don’t enjoy a drink every now and then.”

The cook, who had overheard them, brought them three cups of gur-gur chai, the local tea. Elvira gently placed Eduardo’s head on the carpet, and they drank in silence.

Hamed watched the little boy, thinking that he looked more like a sack of meat than a human being. He could not place him. When planning the trip with the couple, he had pointed out that taking a twelve-year-old boy on high mountain trails was not a good idea as he would struggle to keep up. But there was nothing to be done — Eduardo had to come. Elvira had been adamant: “He is a peculiar child, but he has always been with me during the hunt; when I shoot the beasts, he must be there too”.

Hamed returned to observe them. “We must talk about the leopard,” he said.

“It’s about time,” Javier commented, receiving a glare from his wife.

They were unbelievably rich — so rich that they could hire the best beater team in the Himalayas for a year to track down a snow leopard.

The two were beautiful, Hamed thought, and also seemingly very young. Elvira was muscular, with the legs of a climber, while the other was slimmer and found it harder to adapt to the harshness of the Himalayas. Their beauty was clearly artificial; although, by the end of the 21st century, surgeons were comparable to magicians, one could still sense the effect of the scalpel on their bodies. As for their age, they could have been anywhere between thirty and seventy. The rich always remained young until their heart or brain raised the white flag, at which point they suddenly drowned in the abyss of their lives like stones in black water.

“What exactly do we need to talk about?” Elvira asked.

Hamed smiled at her as she glared at him.

The hunter’s big, grey eyes with yellow streaks dominated his dark, oval face, as did his big eyebrows, nose, nostrils and lips. Elvira shifted her gaze down to his dirty army-green jacket, which was too loose for his huge shoulders, and then to his old trousers and dirty boots. She had only seen him change once before and had wondered how he didn’t stink. Besides emitting no smell, Hamed seemed indestructible.

“We need to talk about the rain that’s coming, and the melting Zanskar River. We’ve given ourselves four more days, and they end tomorrow, so we should—”

“Oh yeah? How time flies,” Elvira exclaimed with a forced smile.

“Stop it, Elvira. Listen to what Mr Hamed has to say,” said Javier.

“I should take you back to the valley. We are running out of supplies too.”

“But a few days ago, you said that we could always go back down via the passes.”

“And I also said that that path is only taken in an emergency. The rain here is deadly; last year, an entire expedition disappeared in a landslide.”

“But that expedition wasn’t led by you,” the woman continued, smiling.

“Oh Jesus, Elvira. We didn’t come here to die,” Javier blurted out. “We came so the leopard could die.”

The child made a hissing sound and turned away. Elvira approached him, lovingly brushed the hair off his forehead, and kissed him lightly.

“Keep your voice down, Javier. We haven’t killed this fucking leopard yet.’

‘There’s no way it’s still alive. You know that, too. Tell her, Hamed.”

 The man looked inside his cup. Having already witnessed their quarrels, he knew that intervening would be of no use.

“The head, Javier. How many times do I have to tell you? I want the head,” said Elvira.

Javier stood up, huffing.

“It was a mistake to bring—”

“I warn you, Javier, don’t you dare finish that sentence!”

Javier’s jaw clenched shut with a snap, and both Elvira and Hamed could see that his eyes were filling with tears out of anger. He quickly walked out of the tent into the icy wind that blew through the gorge at dusk.

 “Your husband is nervous, no doubt, but he is right. We are dragging our feet too much.”

Elvira turned to the man. Still charged with anger, she instinctively calmed down when she met his authoritative gaze.

“Do you understand how long I have wanted the leopard in the house? My father has searched for it in these very mountains for years, and has never been able to find it.”

“As I told you, I will testify that you killed it.”

“This is symbolic, Hamed. I don’t know if you understand. I have to see him die with my own eyes.”

Oh, I understand very well, old fool, thought Hamed. Do you know how many I have met like you?

They stayed where they were, drinking their tea, while the Ladakhis continued to talk in low voices, as if the foreigners did not exist. After a while, Elvira decided to speak up again.

“You are paid very well, and I promised you double for the extra days too. If I pay, you must do what I ask.”

“Do you want to know if the money will be enough to change my mind?”

Hamed looked at her coldly now, his cup resting on the floor. He had taken his lucky cartridge out of his pocket and was turning it over in his fingers. He had once killed a man in a pointless war that had been fought up there. This had happened before the glaciers began to melt and people started to emigrate due to a chronic lack of water.

“The answer is no,” he said. ‘I am a professional hunter. And when I tell you we have to go back, we have to go back. When I say the hunt is over, it is over.”

Tensions had been building over the previous days, and it was obvious that they would explode sooner or later. That moment had arrived, thought Hamed. So much the better; he would no longer have to spend time with that obnoxious woman and her creepy son. He would eat alone and, most importantly, he would finally be able to uncork his chaang. At the end of each season, he would drink a bottle, get drunk in his tent and then resume praying properly and asking Allah for forgiveness for killing one of his most beautiful beasts. Allah would understand.

The child stirred; with his eyes closed, he did not wake up. He threw himself onto his mother and embraced her.

“Excuse me,” said Elvira. “You are right. We will do as you said. Two more days and that’s it.”

Nothing, thought Hamed. My plan failed. Perhaps he had been too harsh and frightened the stranger rather than provoking her. Yes, that must be it.

“We might get lucky,” he said. “Sometimes the beasts turn up just before the end of the expedition, to meet the hunter.”

“An animal that goes to meet its death?”

“Yes, it’s strange, and I can’t explain it. But it happens sometimes. Don’t think about it now, though.”

At that moment, the Ladakhis began preparing the dishes.

“I’m going to the tent to get the other one,” said Elvira. “He’ll have to eat something.”

-

That night, Elvira woke up shortly after falling asleep — or so it seemed — as she had had short, blood-filled dreams. Outside, a fierce wind picked up pieces of ice and formed vertical whirlwinds — dozens of small cyclones. The tent was pitched inside a cave with sandy soil, near the bed of an extinct river. Elvira was curled up in her sleeping bag; her son was in the sleeping bag to her right. She could hear his steady breathing. However, she could not hear Javier’s; her husband’s sleeping bag was empty. She did not worry about it, though; the cold made him need to go to the bathroom frequently.

As every night since she had met the animal, she was attacked by the usual feeling. She felt empty, and it was a purely physical sensation in the centre of her stomach: an absolute hunger that was impossible to satisfy.

Five days earlier, at dawn, the beaters arrived at the camp, saying that they had spotted wild goat carcasses just south of the ridge between Sisir La and Kalgi. There, the mountains were blue and green, and the long path travelled by salt traders to reach China could still be seen. This was back when mountain borders made sense and people killed each other to defend or conquer them. The beaters followed the blood trails of their prey and found the leopard’s droppings, thus determining its current hunting territory. The first time they had seen it, a month earlier, it had been a few kilometres south, and they had found it easy to keep up with him as the foreigners travelled from Brazil to Ladakh.

“It’s a beautiful beast,” Hamed told Elvira as she slung her rifle and backpack over her shoulder. “Like none seen in a long time. We’ll be there in a few hours.’

“Where should I shoot it when it’s in range?”

“I’ve already told you: Aim for the neck. I’ll take you to the opposite wall. We’ll have to wait for the afternoon wind to die down; then the leopard will appear, and we can shoot it.”

“I only get one chance.”

“Yes, you only get one chance. If you miss, the leopard will run away and will most likely change hunting territory. They can move many kilometres when they realise they are in danger.”

“I hope I can hit it properly.”

“Don’t worry; you shoot just fine. You’ve been training for this hunt for years, haven’t you?”

“You’re not wrong. I can’t wait any longer.”

They left the camp, followed by their son, Eduardo, and a couple of porters carrying tents and food in case they had to spend the night out in the open. Javier stayed at the camp. That was the deal.

They walked for four hours along an invisible path, which the chief beater and Hamed followed more with their minds than their eyes. The path was quite steep, and once they had descended it would allow them to reach the leopard while staying in the wind.

Elvira was well-trained, but she struggled to keep up with the men because of the low oxygen levels and the uneven terrain. In contrast, Eduardo moved with extraordinary lightness, launching into fast runs up the mountain. He was deaf to his mother’s pleas for him to be careful.

Once they reached the ridge, Hamed requested silence. Elvira took Eduardo by the hand and urged him to stay by her side. The boy calmed down; this was not the first time he and his mother had hunted together.

In the early afternoon, they reached the hunters’ designated camp: the ruins of an old shepherd’s hut. Apart from the faint breeze, the quiet was absolute. The only sound was the faint rustle, a distant stream or a hallucination.

“Now we stand behind this pile of stones and wait for the leopard to show up,” said Hamed.

“How long will we have to wait?”

The Kashmiri put his backpack down, took a drink from his canteen, and then pointed his old Soviet binoculars at the wall opposite. He spoke to the beater in Ladakhi.

“The leopard might pass this way in about three or four hours,” he told Elvira.

“Good.”

“Let’s lie down and be quiet.” She glanced at the child sitting on the ground behind them. He had been arranging quartz pebbles in circles.

“You don’t have to worry. You’ll see that Eduardo will be fine,” Elvira said, stroking her son’s head.

They stood waiting on the tarpaulin, their rifle barrels leaning against the remains of the building — a low stone wall. The child refused to stand beside them, remaining seated and not hiding the top of his head. This worried Hamed. Eduardo began to tremble and his mother tried to reassure the hunter by saying that everything was normal and under control. Three hours later, a flock of birds appeared, flying over their heads and heading for the ridge in front of them. They were black and white birds that Elvira had never seen before.

“Look at this spectacle, Eduardo,” the woman whispered to her son. The child looked up, opened his mouth slightly, and let out a guttural cry like a wounded cat.

“They are Himalayan vultures,” said Hamed. “They’re heading towards the beast’s territory. It must have left prey somewhere and they’re going to take what’s left.’

He put his binoculars on and started scanning the opposite wall again. The rock was grey; the leopard could easily blend in with it. Hamed concentrated, slowly going over every rock, bush and hole. He climbed up the scree, and then, high up, he spotted it. It descended calmly, licking his bloodstained muzzle.

“Take the binoculars. It’s heading towards the gorge. It probably knows where there is still water. Now, let’s not be in a hurry.”

Elvira lifted her brand new binoculars and pressed them firmly against her eyes.

“Where is it? I can’t see it,” she said nervously.

“Don’t worry. Don’t raise your voice. It’s there, next to that bush.”

“Christ, there it is”. A full-grown male, more than a metre and a half long, with a short snout, tired sky-blue eyes, and little flesh under his thick, spotted brown coat. His thick tail dragged on the ground as if he were a killer hiding his tracks.

“Eduardo, come to Mama. Here is the leopard. Look at its magnificence.” The child did not move. He stopped looking at his hands and looked where the leopard was. Without binoculars, it was difficult for him to see the animal, yet Hamed could see that he was staring at it.

“We have time, but we can’t wait for it to go too low,” said the man. “When it passes that big black rock, take the safety off the rifle and load the shot.”

Elvira dropped to her knees, putting her eye to the sights and her finger on the trigger. Then she relaxed her muscles and controlled her breathing rhythm. Hamed looked at her admiringly. Elvira and her Sako Finnlight had become one.

The man heard a noise behind him and realised that the boy had stood up and was pointing at the leopard. His face was split in half: on the right, a bright, almost beautiful smile; on the left, a tragic eye.

“Why is it quickening his pace?” asked Elvira in a firm voice, without taking his eye off the viewfinder. Hamed looked through the binoculars again. The leopard had noticed them.

“The neck, Elvira. The neck or the shoulder. Prepare to fire. There! Load the shot.”

Then everything unfolded in seconds. Eduardo let out a deep scream that Hamed had never heard before — a cry of absolute fear and desire to defeat it. It hit him and almost knocked him to the ground. He was reminded of the screams he had heard in war, from men who had been tortured with knives, electricity or water. The leopard ran towards the gorge and seemed to fly over the gravel.

“Shoot, in the name of Allah, shoot!”

The noise was thunderous and echoed off the mountains. In the absolute silence of those places, the sound hit them like a grenade bursting nearby. A cloud of dust rose up, and the beast accelerated again, if that were possible. The child kept screaming.

“You missed! Shoot again! Take it down!’

The leopard had almost reached the shadow of the gorge, where it would disappear. A second shot.

Hamed saw a cloud of blood rise from one of its hind legs. The animal dashed to the left and then disappeared. The child stopped screaming and slumped to the ground.

Now, when Elvira stopped brooding over what had happened, the night was thick and she realised it was very late. She stroked her son’s arm, which he was holding out of the sleeping bag. She was worried. Since the encounter with the leopard, he had not spoken. This had happened before, sometimes he would not speak for weeks, but never after such an event. Nor had she ever heard him scream like that before.

Soon, Javier opened his tent, took off his anorak and boots, and quickly slipped into his sleeping bag.

“Where have you been?”

“It’s colder than usual tonight, if that’s possible. Although there is no wind.”

“Where have you been?”

“I stayed outside for a while to get some air and look at the stars.”

“You never cared about the stars. And now you’re looking at them?”

“Keep your voice down. You will wake up Eduardo. Besides, why all this rancor?”

“What time is it?”

“It’s early. It must be ten o’clock. You fell asleep straight away when we got back to the tent. How come you woke up?”

“Dreams.”

“What did you dream about?”

“The leopard. I can’t stop thinking about its strength. It lives in the coldest place in the world, it is incredibly fast and it can see in complete darkness. His perception is pure. I want his sharpness for myself. I want to kill him and take his spirit.”

“You can’t stop it, huh? What Hamed told you just doesn’t—”

“I don’t like that man. The more days that go by, the less I like him.”

“He’s a good hunter though. He led you to the leopard, didn’t he? What more could you want? He knows the territory much better than we do.”

‘True, but he hunts by instinct. We could stay here longer. I have studied Ladakh’s meteorology in depth, and—’

“Oh, Elvira, you and your presumption! These people were born and have lived here all their lives. They have the mountains in their blood. What more do you want to know?”

“Now you’re the one raising your voice.”

“Look, it’s pointless for us to keep arguing. We certainly can’t go on without Hamed anyway.”

“But we could—”

“Let me sleep now. I’m tired.”

“I want to talk.”

‘Then do it alone. I want to sleep now.”

-

For breakfast, they ate khambir spread with yak butter and salt. Hamed ate with enthusiasm. The adventure was coming to an end and he found himself thinking about the sea. He wanted to go and see the sea. This time, he had made a lot of money. He would head north, where the water wouldn’t damage your skin and you could still swim.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, looking at the child. At the beginning of the journey, they had exchanged a few smiles, but now it was as if he was looking at a wall.

“And you?” replied Elvira.

“Decently, I’d say. I can’t complain.”

“Do you think we can go and look for some wild goats today?” asked Javier.

“Wild goats? Do you want to try shooting, too?”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind. Since I’m here.”

“Javier, what are you...”

“Well, no problem. We can do it,” said the hunter. “We can try east of Nan. It’s a couple of hours’ walk from here. You might find something in those parts.”

“You stay here at the camp while we go and look for the leopard,” said Elvira. “As always. And please don’t talk nonsense. I’m not paying you to teach us how to shoot goats.”

“Oh, as you wish,” said Hamed. He swallowed his mouthful noisily, took a sip of tea, and started rolling a cannabis cigarette.

“On the contrary, goats or no goats, I’m coming with you today,” said Javier.

“No, I’ll go with...”

“Stop it, Elvira. I’ve made up my mind. I’m coming with you.”

Hamed stood up; he had been called over by Lobsang, the head beater, who had just reached the camp. He was a very thin, dark-skinned Tibetan with a drinking problem who could smell animals from miles away. He was Hamed’s best man and was exhausted; he hadn’t slept a wink the night before.

The two foreigners remained seated and continued to discuss. Elvira stared at her cup of instant coffee.

“Shall we go? We’re heading east today,W said Hamed, returning to them. He had become gloomy.

WLobsang says he’s found something.”

The man, his eyes bloodshot, made a strange sound. He was disgusted by the foreigners, but he needed their money. Like everyone else. He spat on the ground.

“Something?” asked Elvira.

“We’re not sure,” lied the hunter. “We have to go and take a look.” He glanced at Javier.

“You can come too. Follow us.”

“I see. What I say doesn’t matter anymore,” said Elvira.

“Come on, let’s go. We’ll walk fast today,” said Hamed impatiently.

It was a beautiful morning; there was no icy wind, as usual, and the sun was sparing them its cruelty. Hamed found himself thinking things that hadn’t crossed his mind in a long time. He wished the beast would run away and not be found. He imagined it pulling the bullet out of its flesh with its fangs and licking the wound to prevent infection. He pictured it relearning how to run, finding a secluded valley with water, snow, food and female leopards. He shook his head.

What the fuck am I thinking? he said to himself. The best thing to do was to find the animal, kill it, and get out of there.

No one spoke during the first three hours of walking. Lobsang led the way along a path that followed the course of yet another dried-up river. The landscape became harsher and harsher until even the most resilient bushes disappeared, leaving only dust, stones and sky. A heavy sky, thought Elvira, completely gripped by the desire to kill the animal and skin it with her own hands.

She reached for her belt, but could not find what she was looking for. She turned to Javier, who was walking behind her with Eduardo.

“Where’s my knife, Javier?”

“I think you put it in my backpack.”

“In your backpack?”

“Yes, a couple of days ago.”

“I don’t remember...”

“Do you want me to give it to you?”

“Not now; otherwise they’ll lose us. You can give it to me later.”

In half an hour, the path sloped down towards the dry riverbed. They crossed it, passing under the remains of a bridge that had been destroyed by a flood fifty years earlier. Then they began to climb again.

A Mani wall appeared on the new path, followed by a series of white stupas with their tops cut off. When the path widened, they looked up and saw ancient whitewashed stone huts moulded into the rock as if they were an extension of it. An old Gelug monastery, arranged on three levels around a sacred spring. Below was a stone courtyard where Lobsang stopped. Hamed sat down on the steps leading to the upper level, where the child monks had once gathered for prayers. The hunter and Javier exchanged a knowing glance. The man gave his wife an enigmatic smile, put his backpack on the ground, took out his water bottle and passed it to Eduardo, who drank it in large gulps.

“This is the monastery of Phuktal, one of the most important in the area,” said Hamed. “About sixty child monks lived here with their teachers,” said Hamed, crumbling some grass into a piece of paper.

“And then?” asked Elvira.

‘And then the water ran out and there was war. Some monks fought. And they died.”

“It’s a beautiful, sad and fascinating place. Don’t you think so too, Elvira?”

“How long are we staying, Hamed?’ I’m not tired; we can keep going,” said the woman.

“Oh, we’re just stopping for two minutes,” replied Hamed.

“Eduardo and I will stay here and wait for you,” said Javier.

“That’s right. Javier and your son will stay here,” reiterated the hunter. ‘The place Lobsang mentioned is nearby. Just turn west after the next cave.’

“What are you talking about?” said Elvira. “Eduardo is coming with me, as always.” She walked towards the boy, who was trying to peer inside an ancient temple through a window. Javier stood between the boy and his wife, who was advancing with determined steps.

“I can’t let you do that, Elvira. It’s dangerous. Didn’t you see his reaction the first time?”

“He’s my son, Javier. Remember that he’s my son. I decide what’s best for him. He was with me in Namibia when we killed the elephants; he was with me in Greenland with the polar bears; he was with me in Canada with the buffalo. I want him with me when I take down this leopard.”

“He’s our son, Elvira, not yours, and...”

“Get your hands off me!”

Meanwhile, Eduardo pretended not to notice anything. Hamed went over to separate them and spoke to them calmly.

‘There’s no point in arguing. The decision has been made. Javier and I talked about it last night. You, Lobsang and I are going; they’ll wait for us here.”

“Oh, is that so! Forget about the stars, you bastard.”

“Don’t make a scene, Elvira.”

“I’ll take Eduardo too. Whether you like it or not.”

“I repeat, the matter is closed,” said the hunter. “Lobsang will take your rifle. Let’s go.”

“Oh, really? Then I’ll pay you half the agreed amount.”

Hamed threw down the cigarette he had just lit and stepped closer. Close up, the man was frightening with his wide eyes and enormous hands. He squeezed the woman’s arm, but kept smiling at her.

“I wouldn’t talk nonsense if I were you. If I leave you here, I doubt you’ll be able to get back to Leh on your own.”

Elvira wanted to answer him again, but her eyes could not hold the tension and drooped. Javier approached the child, who was now staring at his mother. Elvira covered her face with her hands, rubbed her palms over her eyes, and then ran them through her hair. She looked up and saw a vulture. Behind the bird were cruel clouds. Black, dense globes. She went to the child and tried to hug him, but Eduardo hid behind Javier’s body, rubbing the palm of one hand with the fingers of the other.

“Come on, the rain is coming,” Hamed said. “I told you it was coming. We have to hurry.”

-

They climbed for another hour. It was a very steep climb among boulders broken by earthquakes. They crossed the ridge and found black mountains. Lobsang’s 20-year-old son had been waiting for them since dawn, eager to join his father and the foreigners. He conversed with Hamed.

“This is it,” the hunter told the woman. “Rinchen confirmed to me that the leopard is hiding among those rocks over there. It is probably waiting for death.”

“Let’s get it over with, then. Let’s kill it.”

An unexpected weariness had descended upon the woman. Dark marks appeared on her face, as if she had aged ten years in the last hour.

“What’s wrong with you?” asked Hamed.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Good. We’ll set up down there and hide behind that boulder. We’ll wait a while for the beast to move.”

“What if it doesn’t move?”

“That means its energy has run out. Then, we’ll have to flush it out. But we’d better wait until sunset. At worst, we’ll spend the night at the monastery and return in the morning.”

Elvira said nothing. She grabbed the rifle that Lobsang had left on the ground, and they started walking slowly downhill.

“Why don’t the two of them follow us?” she asked after a few steps.

“They said they don’t want to help.”

“They don’t want to help?”

“They think what we’re doing is unfair. We shoot a beast that can’t defend itself and chase it when it’s wounded.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think we should get over with it. The animal is clearly suffering. Besides, someone else might confront him.”

But that wasn’t actually what he was thinking. He was devising a different plan than usual.

“Now, stand behind me, about one or two meters away, and put your feet exactly where I put mine. Unfortunately, we are no longer downwind.”

They reached the hiding place, lay down on the ground, and waited. While Elvira pulled out the Sako and positioned it so that she had a clear shot, Hamed scanned the rocks and holes for signs of the leopard’s passage. He saw, or thought he saw, traces of blood in the dim sunlight, which was growing dimmer and dimmer because of the heavy clouds condensing above them.

“The rain is dangerous up here,” he said.

“Why is it dangerous?”

“It just is.”

A few minutes later, the rain began, as Hamed had predicted.

It always began as fine, fast drops. Hamed knew it would soon become aggressive and last for days. It was terrible water, which almost no one was able to drink.

They pulled the tarpaulins out of their backpacks, put them on in silence, and returned to their positions.

Elvira bent over the rifle, poking her eye through the viewfinder. She forced her whole body into the small cylinder of metal and glass. As she did so, she saw the leopard pulling its serious, sad snout out of a small, makeshift den among the dust and stones. “There it is!” she whispered. Hamed sensed the rush of arousal igniting the woman again with disgust. “Shit, she saw it, too,” he thought.

“Don’t look away,” he told her, resting a hand next to the gun barrel. “Don’t take your eye off the scope.” He moved his palm over the barrel very gently. The leopard pulled its snout out of its den.

He was thirsty. He was an animal and could not understand why he was being hunted. He didn’t even know that he was the last of his kind. All he knew was that he was thirsty. He craved water to run over his tongue, down his throat, and into his empty stomach. He kept his ears down, moving only his tail as it rose and fell. His blue eyes, transformed into slits, called out for death without his noticing. The awareness of the end was a vague feeling, a fact of space and time rather than of consciousness. In fact, the leopard had no real consciousness. Nor did he have a memory like humans do. It had no memory of images, trees, clouds, stars, war, or symbols. The leopard only had the memory of flesh and sensations that reappeared in dreams.

He was thirsty, so the rain came.

He pulled his head out of his shelter, raised it to the sky, and saw black. He felt the water touch his tongue and was happy. In that moment, death did not exist for him, as snow leopards do not have the same consciousness of the end that humans do. The leopard was happy, even though death was certain. He felt the rain run down his coat, wetting his wound and bringing him relief. He emerged completely from his hiding place.

About four hundred meters away, he saw Eduardo. When they had first seen each other, the little animal had recognized him and screamed. Now, the leopard discerned no fear in him but rather a feeling that he called hunger. Eduardo ran quickly and silently downward, almost flying. He held something — a knife — and the leopard heard a familiar noise: the mother loading the shotgun. She was unaware that her son was running toward her. The leopard saw Eduardo take a leap similar to those he took at the end of a hunt, certain that soft goat meat would end up in his jaws.

He saw Eduardo thrust a knife into Elvira’s neck and back. The woman could not save herself; she was powerless, like the goats when he bit them. She heard the mother scream as the blade repeatedly entered and exited her body until Hamed threw the child away.

The leopard went back to lap up water and fill its mouth. He felt as if he would live forever.