For example, here’s a short story about : The Last Green Corridor

Beside him trotted a young southern tamandua, no older than the last rainy season. “There’s nothing left,” the tamandua panted.

Xurí paused, lifting his snout. The wind brought a scent — not smoke, but wet earth. “There,” he said.

That night, jaguars coughed in the distance. Xurí curled his bushy tail over the tamandua. “This is the last green corridor,” he whispered. “We guard it now.”

Xurí dipped his tongue — two feet of sticky muscle — into a termite mound. For the first time in weeks, he ate. The tamandua scrambled up a tree, licking ants from bark.

In the shrinking savanna-forest edge of central Brazil, an old giant anteater named Xurí walked with a limp. His claws — long as a child’s fingers — clicked against dry clay. Fire had eaten the anthills. Tractors had swallowed the groves.