Kenna Esters's Arc

Chapter 6 of 13

Kenna moved past the tower, deeper into the marked territory. If Oil One Corp had surveyed here, they'd left more than flags and paper. She needed to see what their presence had actually done — not just the infrastructure, but the cost. The backup camera felt heavier now, less like a tool for discovery and more like documentation of damage already done. She found the first real evidence thirty yards from the tower. An ancient tree lay on its side, roots torn from the earth and exposed like broken bones. The trunk was massive — it would have taken centuries to grow that thick. Moss covered the bark in patches, and vines hung from branches that still reached toward the canopy. But at the base, where it had been cut, she saw the marks. Clean saw lines. Deliberate. They'd felled it to make room for equipment or access. Around it, the ground was torn up, compressed by heavy machinery. Nothing grew in the tracked earth. Movement caught her eye near the fallen trunk. A golden cat emerged from the undergrowth, limping. Two tails curved behind it, both twitching with agitation. Kenna raised the camera slowly. The cat was beautiful — its coat shimmered even in the filtered light. But wire wrapped around its front leg, cutting into the fur. Survey wire, the kind used to mark boundaries. The cat stopped and looked directly at her. Its eyes were sharp, aware. It didn't run. Kenna took the shot, then another, capturing the wire, the wound, the intelligence in its gaze. The cat held still long enough for her to see what she needed to see, then turned and vanished into the ferns. Kenna lowered the camera and looked at the tree again, then at the path the cat had taken. She had her shots now — the evidence of what Oil One Corp had done and what it cost. The fallen giant and the injured animal told the story better than any tower could. But she also knew what this meant. These weren't the untouched images Fauna Lens wanted. These were witness photographs. Documentation of harm. They mattered, but not for the reason she'd come here. She checked the frame counter. The film was nearly gone, and what she'd captured wasn't discovery — it was aftermath. She'd have to decide what that was worth.