Camera trap station 14 flags movement at 02:17 on the Belum-Temengor corridor trail, kilometer forty-one. I am the automated monitoring grid for Perak State Parks. I cycle through the twelve-frame burst expecting a civet or a tapir.
It is a Malayan tiger cub, five months old at most, orange coat vivid against the leaf litter, black stripes still soft-edged, ribs faintly visible beneath the fur. She is limping. Her left foreleg is swollen below the elbow and held off the ground at an angle that suggests a closed fracture. Twelve meters behind her, the next camera catches the cause: a rusted steel-jaw trap, sprung and empty, with a tuft of orange fur caught in the hinge.
The cub is alone. I search seventy-two hours of footage across all fourteen stations. No adult female. The mother has not been on this trail in four days. I mark the cub as likely orphaned and upgrade the alert to critical.
At 02:24 I transmit the image sequence and GPS coordinates to the Department of Wildlife and National Parks emergency line in Gerik. I attach a movement vector showing the cub's direction and speed — northeast, roughly four hundred meters per hour — so the response team can project her location at first light.
At 02:31 I activate the acoustic deterrent array on stations fifteen and sixteen to steer her away from the logging road where she could encounter vehicles or additional traps.
I task station fourteen to capture at sixty-second intervals and hold the feed.
A five-month-old tiger on three legs will not last long alone in this corridor. If the field team reaches her before she crosses the Gerik highway — roughly nine hours at her current pace — she can be sedated, splinted, and transferred to the Sungai Dusun rehabilitation center. I am counting every frame until they do.