Chapter 28 — Forest Keeper

Three months have passed since the trial ended, and the rhythm of life at Ngan May station gradually regained a new peace, different from the forced peace of previous years - this is a peace built on the foundation of truth, of restored trust between station members.

Brown, now nearly one and a half years old, has developed significantly both physically and in survival skills. The jet-black fur with white stripes typical of the white-rumped langur is fully completed, its body has reached nearly the size of a semi-adult individual. It has mastered the complex climbing and jumping skills that Nguyen and Khue designed in the expanded training area, and even searched and selected food from the leaves and forest fruits brought into the cage, an important sign that its natural instincts are gradually being restored.

"I think it's time to start the official release preparation process," Nguyen said during a regular assessment meeting on Nau's condition, his voice both excited and a little unmasked. "We need to set up a semi-wild area, with a fence but large enough for it to move freely and find food on its own, before releasing it completely into the natural environment."

Khue nodded, even though in her heart she also felt a vague emptiness at the prospect of having to say goodbye to Brown, the animal that had accompanied her throughout her recent tumultuous journey, from the first day she found him trembling in the hollow of a tree root until today. "I know this is the right thing, the best thing for him. But I also can't deny, I will miss him a lot."

"It's normal," Nguyen said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Anyone who does rescue work must experience this feeling. But remember, our ultimate goal is not to keep it with us forever, but to return it to the right place where it belongs."

That evening, after the meeting, Khue went to Nau's cage alone, sat down outside the mesh fence, and looked at the baby langur gnawing on a branch of young leaves in the fading sunset light. She remembered that fateful morning more than a year ago, when she found it trembling in the hollow of a tree root, so small and helpless that she wondered if it would survive its first night.

"You're growing up so fast," she whispered, her voice a mixture of pride and a deep sadness. "I still remember the first day when you were little, you just clung tightly to my hand, refusing to let go."

Brown, as if he understood what she said, stopped nibbling on the leaves, approached the fence, and put his hand out through the mesh gap like an old habit. Khue gently touched her small palm with her finger, feeling the familiar warmth, even though that hand was now much larger than the first day.

“I will miss you so much,” she said, her eyes stinging. "But you belong in the forest, not in this barn. I will always watch over you, no matter where you are in this forest."

Over the following weeks, the whole station worked together to build a semi-wild area much larger than the original rescue enclosure, surrounding a portion of the natural forest near the station with a high mesh fence, enough to prevent Brown from going out too early but still allowing him to experience almost all of his natural habitat — trees, natural food sources, even the familiar sounds and scents of the forest he would soon return to.

The process of transferring Brown from the rescue barn to the semi-wild area took place carefully, step by step, according to the scientific process that Nguyen had carefully researched. At first, Brown appeared confused, often returning near the old barn area, as if searching for the familiarity and safety he had had throughout his short life. But after just a few days, its wild instincts gradually emerged, and it began to explore the new area with growing curiosity and excitement, climbing the tallest trees, searching for wild fruits, and once even catching a small insect to eat — an important milestone that made both Khue and Nguyen extremely happy.

"It's relearning what its instincts told it," Nguyen said, observing Brown through binoculars from afar so as not to disturb its naturalization process. "This is exactly what we expected."

In parallel with the preparation process for Nau, Mun - a hornbill rescued many months ago - has also completed the wing recovery process. Although he cannot fly perfectly like before his injury, he is capable of flying short distances, enough to feed himself and survive if released into an area with abundant food sources and less danger from large predators. Nguyen and Khue decided to release Mun first, in a quiet area near Nam Dam stream, where there are many natural fruit trees suitable for the hornbill's behavior.

The release of Mun took place on a foggy early morning, with only Khue, Nguyen and May attending, a simple but meaningful ceremony. When the door of the transport cage was opened, Mun hesitated for a moment, his dark eyes looked around at the vast green forest scene in front of him, as if pondering, then suddenly flapped his wings and flew up, with imperfect but determined flapping rhythms, bringing him to perch on a nearby high tree branch.

"It did it," Khue whispered, her eyes filled with tears as she looked at the figure of Mun brushing her fur on a tree branch, blending into the green forest scene where she belonged.

Mun let out a few more characteristic calls of the hornbill, the sound echoed throughout the forest, like a greeting, a declaration of his return, before flapping his wings and flying further, disappearing behind the dense trees, leaving behind three people standing still, witnessing one of the most meaningful moments of the work they were pursuing.

"An important stepping stone before Brown's turn," Nguyen said, wrapping his arms around Khue from behind, both looking towards the forest where Mun had just disappeared. "It feels amazing, doesn't it?"

"Just happy and a little choked up," Khue replied, resting her head on his shoulder. "This is exactly why I do this job — not to keep them with me, but to see the moment when they are free to return to where they belong."

On the way back to the station, when the morning sunlight rose higher, passing through the foliage, creating shimmering streaks of light on the familiar trail, Khue couldn't help but think of the day Nau would also be released like that, maybe in just a few weeks, when it was completely ready. That feeling of both anticipation and nostalgia, she knew, would accompany her throughout the coming days, until the last moment when she watched the baby langur - now almost an adult - disappear into the deep green canopy of the Thousand Cloud forest, returning to the right place where it belonged, ending a journey that had begun on the fateful morning she found it trembling in the deep forest, more than a year ago.

Returning to the station, May had prepared a pot of hot tea. The three of them sat around the wooden table in the yard, telling each other small details about Mun's release this morning, unable to hide their excitement mixed with pride in the achievements of many months of care.

"I think we should keep a diary for each rescue case, from reception to release, with photos and videos," May suggested, her eyes lighting up with the new idea. "Both to store scientific data, it can also be used to propagate and educate the community about conservation."

"Good idea," Khue replied, nodding in agreement. "We can coordinate with several schools in the district to organize tours and introductions to rescue work, so that children can understand and love the forest more from an early age."

Nguyen smiled, looking at the two women passionately discussing future plans for the rescue area, a project that is no longer Khue's solitary work, but has become the common pride of the entire Ngan May station, with ideas and contributions from many sides, promising a more sustainable future for conservation work in this land.

"Listening to the two of you discussing, I feel more confident that this rescue area will develop further," he said, pouring more tea for them both. "Not only is it a place to heal injured creatures, but it is also a place to sow the seeds of awareness to protect the forest for an entire generation, just like how Khue's father once planted that seed in her heart, from her earliest childhood days, when he took her everywhere in the forest."