Plans

Isabel stood at the window of her cramped university office, her gaze unfocused as she stared out at the manicured lawns and brick buildings of the campus. It had been six months since she'd left the A****n, six months since she'd seen Kai and his people. But the memory of those emerald eyes and the secrets they held burned as brightly as ever in her mind.

She turned back to her desk, littered with books, papers, and printouts of obscure legends from around the world. Her fingers traced the edge of an old leather-bound journal, its pages filled with her grandmother's spidery handwriting.

"Oh, Mémé," she whispered. "You were right all along, weren't you?"

A knock at the door startled her from her reverie. "Come in," she called, hastily shoving some of the more esoteric texts under a pile of student papers.

Miguel poked his head in, his face breaking into a wide grin. "Dr. Isabel! I hope I'm not interrupting?"

Isabel smiled warmly at her former research assistant. "Miguel! Not at all, come in. How's the leg?"

Miguel entered, walking with barely a hint of a limp. "Good as new, thanks to you. And, well... thanks to them." His voice dropped to a whisper on the last word, his eyes darting around as if the jaguar people might be listening.

Isabel nodded, understanding his caution. They'd agreed to keep the true nature of Miguel's healing a secret, concocting a story about a local shaman for the benefit of the university and Miguel's doctors.

"I'm glad to hear it," Isabel said. "What brings you by?"

Miguel's expression turned serious. "I heard rumors that you're planning another expedition to the A****n. Is it true?"

Isabel hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, it's true. I'm leaving in two weeks."

"Take me with you," Miguel said, his voice urgent. "Please, Dr. Isabel. I know what we saw, what we experienced. I can't just go back to normal life after that."

Isabel sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Miguel, it's going to be dangerous. We don't even know if we can find them again, and if we do..."

"If we do, they might not be happy to see us," Miguel finished. "I know. But I'm willing to take that risk. Please, Dr. Isabel. I need to go back."

Isabel studied her former assistant, seeing the determination in his eyes. She recognized it—it was the same look she saw in the mirror every morning.

"Alright," she said finally. "But you have to promise me you'll follow my lead. No unnecessary risks."

Miguel's face lit up. "Of course! Thank you, Dr. Isabel. You won't regret this!"

As Miguel left, practically bouncing with excitement, Isabel turned back to her research. Her eyes fell on a dusty tome titled "Shapeshifters of the Americas: Myth or Reality?" She'd read it cover to cover multiple times since returning from the A****n, each page seeming to confirm what she'd seen with her own eyes.

She thought back to her grandmother, Mémé Celeste, and the stories she used to tell on sticky Louisiana nights. Isabel could almost smell the bayou, hear the chirping of frogs and the low, mournful call of a distant owl.

"Child," her mémé would say, her eyes twinkling in the glow of the oil lamp, "there's more to this world than what most folks can see. The old ones, they knew. They could shift their skins, become one with the wild. Wolves in the mountains, gators in the swamp, jaguars in the deep, dark places of the world."

Young Isabel had hung on every word, even as her mother scoffed and told Mémé Celeste to stop filling the girl's head with nonsense on her rare visits back to the bayou.

"Your mama," her mémé had whispered one night, after Isabel's mother had gone to bed, "she's forgotten how to listen to the wild. But you, child? You've got the gift. Don't you ever let them make you forget."

Isabel smiled at the memory, her hand unconsciously reaching for the small pouch she wore around her neck—a gris-gris bag Mémé had given her for protection. Inside were herbs, bones, and other items Isabel couldn't identify, but she never took it off.

A harsh knock at the door jolted her from her memories. Before she could respond, the door swung open, revealing Travis, her ex-boyfriend and fellow professor.

"Isabel," he said, his tone clipped. "We need to talk."

Isabel sighed, steeling herself. "Hello, Travis. Please, come in," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Travis strode in, his expensive loafers clicking on the tile floor. He looked out of place in Isabel's cluttered office, his crisp suit a stark contrast to her casual attire.

"I hear you're planning another trip to the A****n," he said without preamble. "Tell me it isn't true."

Isabel crossed her arms, her jaw set. "It's true. What of it?"

Travis ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, exasperation clear on his face. "Isabel, you're throwing away your career over a fairy tale. Shape-shifting jaguar people? Do you have any idea how that sounds?"

"I know what I saw, Travis," Isabel said, her voice low and intense. "And I'm going to prove it."

"Prove what?" Travis scoffed. "That you had a fever dream in the jungle? That you let your grandmother's superstitions cloud your judgment? Wake up, Isabel. This isn't some story. This is your life, your reputation."

Isabel felt her anger rising. "My grandmother wasn't superstitious, she was wise. She understood things that small-minded people like you could never comprehend."

Travis's face flushed red. "Small-minded? I'm not the one chasing shadows in the jungle. Face it, Isabel. You're running away. From your career, from your potential... from me."

Isabel laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. "From you? Travis, we broke up months ago. Not everything is about you."

"Isn't it?" Travis stepped closer, his voice dropping into a silky purr. "We were good together, Isabel. We could be again. Forget this nonsense about jaguar people. Stay here, with me. We could do great things together."

For a moment, Isabel remembered why she'd been attracted to Travis in the first place. He was handsome, charismatic, brilliant in his field. But then she thought of Kai, of the raw power and connection to nature she'd felt in his presence. Travis, with his manicured nails and carefully crafted image, paled in comparison.

"No, Travis," she said firmly. "We weren't good together. We were convenient. But I want more than convenience. I want truth, and wonder, and... magic."

Travis's face hardened. "Magic? Listen to yourself, Isabel. You sound insane. If you go on this expedition, you'll be laughed out of academia. Is that what you want?"

Isabel met his gaze, unflinching. "What I want is to uncover the truth, whatever it may be. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

Travis stood there for a moment, his jaw working as if he wanted to say more. Finally, he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Isabel let out a long breath, her hands shaking slightly. She turned back to her research, more determined than ever to find answers.