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Now the pumas were resting – the cubs not yet visible – waiting for first light. Over to my right, mountainsides of snow hovered in the gloom, but I kept my eyes glued on the motionless smudge in my binoculars. Then movement. My companions stirred. The puma was on the move, her pale body ghosting through the undergrowth, and she wasn’t alone. Her two cubs, four months old, fell in behind.

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