Chapter 10 — Forest Keeper

In the days after the meeting with Mr. Chinh, the rhythm of life at Ngan May station seemed to return to normal on the surface, but underneath that quiet shell, Khue clearly felt a simmering tension spreading. She and Nguyen still take care of Nau and Mun together every day, but now, every time they talk, they both naturally lower their voices when mentioning what they discovered, as if afraid that someone is listening.

Brown, now more than five months old, has developed significantly compared to the first day he was rescued. Its fur has turned almost all black with the characteristic white fur stripe starting to appear around its hips, just like the species' name. He knew how to climb proficiently on the branches of the Nguyen and Khue trees built in the cage, and sometimes even tried confident branch jumps, although he still slipped a few times and fell onto the dry leaves lining below.

"He's progressing much faster than I expected," Nguyen commented one afternoon, standing and observing Brown climbing to the top of a high branch in the barn, stopping there to look into the distance with the curiosity of a child exploring the world. "At this rate, it's probably only a few months before we can start to consider preparing for re-release."

"So soon?" Khue asked, a feeling of both joy and disappointment rising in his heart, a feeling familiar to anyone who has ever raised a wild creature with the intention of eventually letting it go.

"Physically, it might be early, but we also have to consider survival skills and the ability to reintegrate into the group," Nguyen explained, his voice technical but still somewhat gentle when he noticed a bit of confusion in Khue's eyes. "Lurks are species that live in groups with complex social structures. Letting it rejoin the group is not as simple as letting it go alone. We will need to monitor the group of langurs you showed me the other day to see if there is any possibility of them accepting a new individual."

Khue nodded, looking at Brown playfully swinging on a tree branch, thinking to herself that even though she knew the day of separation was inevitable and necessary, she still couldn't avoid the nostalgia that was growing with each day that Brown grew up.

That night, after completing her daily work, Khue sat alone in her room, opened her father's notebook and read it again, trying to find more details she might have missed. She compared the coordinates in the notebook with the map of the reserve hanging on the wall of the common office, carefully marking each point with a pencil. Most of the coordinates coincided with regular patrol routes, but there was one point, recorded on the last page before the torn section, located quite far from familiar routes, near the western border area of the reserve, bordering a land that, according to Khue's understanding, was partly under the management of the neighboring commune government, not entirely within the scope of Ngan May station's responsibility.

She noted down those coordinates, telling herself she would find a way to check when she had the chance, even though she knew this was a sensitive area and needed to be more careful when approaching alone.

Around nine o'clock in the evening, when Khue had just turned off the lights to prepare for bed, she heard a strange noise outside her room window - not the familiar sound of insects or wind, but the sound of footsteps, very soft, as if she was deliberately moving carefully so as not to make a sound. She held her breath, lay still and listened, her heart pounding in her chest.

The footsteps stopped for a moment, then continued moving, seemingly circling the area behind the station, near the rescue barn. Khue gently sat up, without turning on the light, sneaked to the window, lifted the curtain and opened a small gap to look out. The faint moonlight was only enough to clearly illuminate the shadows of the trees moving in the wind, but she caught a glimpse of a figure, standing about thirty meters away from the station, seemingly observing the station, then quickly disappeared into the darkness of the bamboo grove when a dog barked from a nearby house.

She stood still for a long moment, her heart still beating fast, trying to analyze whether it was just a villager passing by late, or something more worrying. But her professional instincts told her that a normal villager would have no reason to move so secretly and carefully around the ranger station area at this hour.

The next morning, she told May and Nguyen the incident during breakfast, trying to keep her voice calm even though her heart was still filled with anxiety from last night.

"Are there any footprints left behind?" Nguyen asked immediately, with a serious expression, placing the bowl of porridge on the table.

"I went out to check this morning. The soil was dry and left no obvious marks," Khue replied, "but I'm sure it wasn't my imagination. Someone was really there."

Cloud looked at the two people, his face showing concern. "Do you think it's related to the Kim Phat case? Maybe they recognized you and Mr. Nguyen that day in town?"

"Maybe," Khue admitted, although she hoped otherwise. "Or maybe it's related to the encounter in the woods the other day, they want to find out who has been following their activities."

Nguyen was silent for a moment, then spoke up, his voice resolute. "Whatever the reason, I think you shouldn't be alone at night from now on. At least until things are clearer."

"I can't keep hiding forever," Khue protested, although in her heart she also understood that his worry was not without reason.

"I didn't tell you to hide," Nguyen replied, her voice softening but still firm. "I'm just saying you should be more careful. There's a difference between courage and recklessness, Khue."

That statement made Khue silent, somewhat admitting that he was right. She looked at Nguyen and saw in his eyes not only concern for common work, but also something deeper, a personal concern that she had never paid close attention to before, or perhaps she had deliberately not paid attention to it because she was afraid of having to face the complicated emotions that were gradually arising in her heart.

That evening, when the whole station was asleep, Khue went out to check the entire rescue barn one last time as usual, carrying a flashlight and, for the first time, a short self-defense stick that she kept in her room but never thought she would need to use. Nguyen, who didn't have an appointment, also walked out of his room, carrying his own flashlight.

"Can't you sleep too?" she asked, her voice a bit surprised but also a bit warm when she saw him appear.

"Not really, just wanted to double check to make sure," he replied, walking over to stand next to her. "Can I go with you?"

Khue nodded, said nothing more, and together they walked around the station area, the flashlight scanning every dark corner, carefully checking the fence, the barn door, every corner that could be a hiding place. No other unusual signs were detected, but Nguyen's silent presence beside her, his footsteps in sync with hers in the dark night, gave Khue a sense of security that she had not allowed herself to feel for a long time.

When they arrived in front of Nau's room, they both stopped and looked at the baby langur sleeping soundly in the moonlight filtering through the B40 mesh gap, breathing steadily and peacefully, completely unaware of the dangers lurking somewhere out there.

"Thank you," Khue said softly, turning to look at Nguyen in the dim flashlight light.

"For what?" he asked, his eyes in the darkness seeming brighter than usual.

"For being here. For not letting me face all of this alone." She spoke, her voice more sincere than she intended to sound, clearly sensing that the distance between the two of them seemed to be closing, not only physically but also emotionally.

Nguyen was silent for a moment, his eyes stayed on her face longer than usual, as if he was considering something to say but still hesitated. In the end, he just smiled slightly, a gentle and sincere smile. "You don't have to thank me for that. It was my choice, and I don't regret it."

The two of them stood there for a moment in silence, no one said anything more, but the invisible distance between them, the distance of initial reticence and prejudices when they first met, seemed to have completely disappeared, giving way to a new, fragile but genuine connection, gradually forming between two people who shared the same goal, shared the same anxiety, and perhaps, began to recognize vibrations beyond the scope of work that neither of them dared to name.

Before returning to the room, Nguyen suddenly stopped and turned to Khue. "Tomorrow I plan to go to the Provincial Department to report on the health situation of Nau and Mun and ask for more supplies. Do you want me to ask there to see if there is any information about Kim Phat Company? Maybe from the perspective of forest product management, they have data that we haven't been able to access."

"Okay, but be careful how you ask," Khue advised, concern flashing through her voice. "Don't reveal that you're doing a specific investigation, just ask for general information. I don't know anyone up there who is trustworthy."

"I understand," Nguyen nodded, his eyes becoming serious. "I will be tactful."

She watched his shadow disappear into the room's door, feeling both empowered by a new direction of gathering information and at the same time vaguely worried that each step forward in this investigation also meant that both of them were getting closer to a dangerous area that they could not yet fully predict.