The Last Panther

by Todd Mitchell

  Like most fugees, Kiri put out an extra plate of food for the dead—just one plate for both her ma and the panther since the two felt connected. Maybe their spirits were the same. She didn’t really expect the ghost of her mother or the panther to show up and eat the food. Still, she wanted to do something to remember them. So she set out the plate along with an extra cup of water sweetened with honeysuckle blossoms.

  Her father raised an eyebrow at the food for ghosts, but he made no comment about it. Instead, they talked about Skitter, Mustache, and Cricket, and all the ridiculous things the cubs had done recently. They were growing and developing new behaviors so quickly it was hard to keep up. Already, in the weeks since the cubs had been brought back, they’d had to expand the cubs’ enclosure twice, and Martin had plans to make it even bigger still.

  The long-term plan, though, was to get rid of the fence entirely. Once the cubs were big enough to roam on their own, Martin planned on using a network of small drones and cameras to keep track of the panthers and make sure they were safe. That way they could expand the cubs’ territory and breed them with samples from similar subspecies.

  “Sonia thinks that if this collaboration continues to go well, Gen Tech might use it as a model for how to create other wildlife refuges,” said Martin.

  “Meaning what, exactly?” asked Kiri.

  “Meaning we might have visitors soon, so we better clean our house.”

  “Our house is clean.”

  “Last I counted, Snowflake had four nests in the sleeping loft. And one of them was made of shredded paper from my books.”

  “That’s because Snowflake loves to read,” said Kiri.

  Her da smirked. “Speaking of which, Sonia tells me you need to catch up on your homeschool work.”

  “Snowflake ate my homeschool work.”

  “Nice try,” replied her da. “Rats don’t eat vid screens.”

  As if to prove Martin’s point, Snowflake snatched a honeysuckle blossom from the bowl Kiri had set out and daintily chewed on one end.

  Kiri considered shooing him away from the food for ghosts, but she decided not to. “Go on, Snowflake. Best not to waste food,” she said.

  Snowflake finished the honeysuckle blossom and sniffed a coconut-and-clam skewer. Then he tore into it hungrily.

  Kiri didn’t mind that she hadn’t seen her mother or felt her presence since the day the turtles had hatched. Maybe it meant her mother was happy and able to move on. Or maybe, Kiri thought, it meant she was happy and able to move on. Of course she still missed her mother, but she no longer felt that part of herself was missing.

  During the day she worked with her da, training fugees and restoring parts of the coast. And at night she had homeschool work to do. Fortunately, Ap had been helping her catch up on reading and math through chat sessions every night. Sometimes he even made her funny vids to demonstrate things.

  Thinking of Ap, Kiri reached into her pocket and touched the stuffed turtle he’d given her. He’d told her it would bring her luck, and it had. Every time she thought what they were doing here was crazy or pointless, she reached into her pocket and squeezed the turtle. The little stuffed animal reminded her of the hatchlings, and it reminded her that restoring this part of the coast wasn’t just about turtles and panthers. It was about people, too. People like Ap, who’d never seen the ocean but were still connected to it in countless ways.

  “I almost forgot,” said her da, startling Kiri from her thoughts. “Sonia sent something for you in the last supply tridrone.”

  “What is it?” asked Kiri, hoping it wasn’t more homeschool work.

  “Beats me.” Her da pulled a small box from his pack.

  The box was wrapped in brown paper with the words For the bravest protector I know written on the outside.

  Kiri was careful not to rip the paper as she opened it. Paper like this was a luxury, and she could make dozens of things out of it. She lifted the cover to the box and found a knife with a shiny fixed blade and an elegant bamboo handle.

  Kiri held the knife. Sunlight glinted off the polished blade.

  “What do you think?” asked her da.

  “You told her to give me this?”

  “She wanted to give you something, and I knew you needed one,” he said. “Be careful. It’s sharper than your ma’s was.”

  Kiri picked up a piece of palm wood and started carving it to test the blade. Before she knew it, she was shaping the wood into a small round disk. Then she began to add a head and fins, and ridges to the back. The more she added, the more she remembered about the leatherback hatchlings.

  Paulo and Tae and a few other kids must have seen her new knife shimmering in the sunlight, because they came over and asked what she was doing.

  “I’m carving a hatchling,” she said. “It’s a tradition.”

  “No it isn’t,” said Tae.

  “It will be for me,” she said.

  Paulo and Tae looked at each other. They each got out their own knives and started to carve little leatherback hatchlings as well. Word spread, and before long other kids were carving them, too. The youngest asked their parents to carve leatherback hatchlings for them. Soon several adults were creating their own tiny reminders of the sea turtles.

  Kiri took great care to give her hatchling every detail she could recall, from the ridges on the back to the small triangular tail to the four thin flippers and wrinkled skin. When she was done, she colored her carving black with charcoal from one of the fire pits and used crushed pieces of shell to give it white speckles. Finally, she added two small pieces of blue sea glass for the eyes.

  It was nearly sunset by the time she finished. She walked to the ocean’s edge with the hatchling she’d carved. Paulo and Tae came with her, bringing their own hatchling carvings, along with Charro and her da. Most of the village stood near the shore, and almost every family had carved at least one sea turtle.

  They seemed to be waiting for her to start. She didn’t know what to say, so she simply walked to the water and set her turtle on the lip of a receding wave. Others did the same, placing their hatchlings on the waves in silence.

  Dozens of carved turtles floated back and forth while the villagers watched. They looked tiny and fragile. Doubt filled Kiri as she gazed out at the crushing waves and the ruins beyond them. There were so many possibilities for disaster, it seemed ludicrous to think that any of the real hatchlings could survive and grow, and one day return to this beach to nest.

  A few of the wooden hatchlings got stranded on the beach or hung up on debris. Kids immediately ran to them and carried them back to the water, giggling and shouting as if they were real turtles.

  A smile crept onto Kiri’s face. Even if none of the sea turtles came back, the fugees would at least be able to say that they’d done what they could. They’d tried to protect the land and water, and that made them part of things in a way they hadn’t been before.

  Amid all the waves and chaos, Kiri’s attention shifted to one wooden hatchling. It looked like the one she’d carved. The palm wood must have gotten waterlogged, because the hatchling no longer floated. Instead, it bobbed beneath the crest of an oncoming wave, and its blue eyes sparkled.

  Perhaps it was only a trick of the light through the rippling water, or an illusion caused by the current. For a moment, though, the carved turtle’s flippers appeared to move, as if the hatchling was swimming off. It dove deeper into the next wave, vanishing into the darkness like an ocean’s seed being planted. A dream from a world long gone. A shimmering fragment of hope. A tiny, fragile shard of what could be again.

  On the day I completed this book, scientists estimated that fewer than 180 Florida panthers currently existed in the wild. They are one of the most critically endangered subspecies in North America.

  Leatherback sea turtles, one of the largest reptiles on earth, are also critically endangered, as are many types of gorillas, tigers, rhinos, elephants, dolphins, whales, and countless other species.

  Accordi
ng to scientists, if present trends continue, by the end of this century half of all plant and animal species will be extinct or on the edge of extinction. Among the main causes of extinction are habitat loss, poaching, and climate change.

  It doesn’t have to be this way. Many people are working to save species from extinction and to protect vital habitats so that we can all live in a more abundant, sustainable, wonder-filled world. You can join them.

  To learn more about easy actions you can take and organizations you can join, visit ToddMitchellBooks.com.

  And I saw the sacred hoop of my people was one of many hoops that made one circle, wide as daylight and as starlight, and in the center grew one mighty flowering tree to shelter all the children of one mother and one father.

  —BLACK ELK, FROM BLACK ELK SPEAKS

  This book wouldn’t exist without the help, support, and love of a whole stilt-village full of inspiring people. It’s impossible to name them all, but I want to give a special shout-out to my extraordinarily perceptive editor, Kate Sullivan, and to the amazing team at Delacorte Press for helping this become the book it is. Kate, you made this a labor of love for yourself as well as for me, and for that I’m deeply grateful.

  A shimmering net full of thanks goes out to all the readers who patiently read early versions of this book, especially Laura Resau, Sharman Russell, Leah Colasuonno, Kerri Mitchell (whom I made cry a little!), and my daughter, Addison Story, who gave me both inspiration and excellent advice. Plus, she named Snowflake.

  A skiff full of thanks goes out to my incredible agent, Ginger Knowlton, for believing in me all these years, and for being a wise voice of sanity in this crazy business. And many thanks to the excellent folks at Curtis Brown, Ltd., for putting up with my endless questions.

  Thank you to my family, my parents, and my parents-in-law for giving me writing retreats to escape to. Most of all, I’m deeply grateful to my wife, Kerri, for taking this journey with me. I know living with a writer is rarely easy, K, but you do it with grace and style. You’re the person I most want to share stories with at the end of the day.

  To my daughters, Addison Story and Cailin Elizabeth, thank you for giving me the two best reasons to write for young readers that I’ve ever had.

  To all the readers (yes, you, holding this book right now!), teachers, and librarians who’ve read my books and invited me to speak over the years—you’ve given me a way to pursue my dreams, and for that I’m immensely grateful. And thank you to the many brave souls, especially the young ones, who are working right now to protect the wonder of the natural world. You give me hope.

  Finally, I owe much gratitude to Black Elk for sharing his visions over a hundred years ago and, by doing so, helping me and many others see the tree in the center of the circle that connects us all.

  TODD MITCHELL is the author of the middle-grade novel The Traitor King and the young adult novels The Secret to Lying and Backwards. He has never caught a panther, but he has worked to rescue wolves, rehabilitated injured hawks, taken care of orphaned bear cubs, and built homes for foxes. He teaches creative writing at Colorado State University in Fort Collins, where he lives with his wife, two spirited and creative daughters, and one very smart dog. You can visit him (and arrange to bring him to your school) at ToddMitchellBooks.com.

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