Suddenly, the sparrow felt like he choked on his own chirps.
This female—she was terrifying!
Why on earth had he felt sorry for her just a moment ago? While he was busy pecking at the ropes tied around his tiny feet, he'd heard her sobbing. And for a split second, his little heart softened. He thought maybe… just maybe, he could comfort her.
But the moment he showed himself—she wanted to eat him?!
Damn it!
He fluffed his feathers in disbelief. Next time, he was letting her cry.
Suddenly, in the midst of their silent standoff—an intense eye fight, really—a sound broke through the stillness.
A heavy footstep echoed through the jungle floor. Kaya stiffened. So did the sparrow.
She slowly turned her head, and Scarf—perched beside her—instinctively rose, feathers bristling. From their high perch on the branch, Kaya peered down. The nearby bushes trembled, not with the wild rustling of animals, but with something deliberate… rhythmic.
Two feet.
Not four. Not paws. Footsteps. Human.
Kaya narrowed her eyes, squinting through the moonlit haze. Then she saw it—
A figure. Sprinting. Ragged, desperate.
And behind them—shadows.
Multiple. Quick. Beastly.
Something was chasing them.
And whatever it was, it wasn't human.
Kaya squinted into the darkness, trying to make out more details—but all she could see was that the figure was running upright, on two legs. Not a chimpanzee. Not a gorilla. Definitely not something she could easily label.
She bit her lip, deep in thought, fingers curling into a tight fist.
.....
(This... no. It can't be them.)
The little sparrow in her palm trembled, sensing the same direction. Its tiny face paled—if that was even possible. But before panic could take over, Kaya swiftly tucked the bird into her pocket.
Then her eyes landed on the snake tied to the branch. The one she had secured earlier.
She reached for it, picked it up, ready to pocket it too—until her memory flared: its fangs. Deadly. No time. She drew out her knife. No hesitation.
Forcing its mouth open, she pressed the blade against its fangs and—
Snap.
Hissss—
(Ahhhhh!)
Its shriek tore through the air as its fangs shattered, flying in different directions. Blood sprayed, warm and sticky. Kaya didn't pause. She shoved it into the inner pocket of her jacket.
No time to climb.
She jumped.
Her landing was perfect.
But she had forgotten one crucial detail—her sprained foot.
The impact hit her like a jolt of lightning, pain exploding up her leg.
"Ugh!" she grunted, biting down hard to keep from screaming.
Still, she pushed forward—toward the direction she had seen the figure disappear into.
Normally, Kaya wouldn't do something this reckless. She was cautious by nature. She knew better than to dive blindly into a jungle she knew nothing about—especially at night, when shadows devoured everything but the thin silver moonlight.
And yet here she was. Jumping into the unknown. Into a pit she couldn't see the bottom of.
With no idea what kind of beast might be waiting.
Huff huff
A man sprinted through the thick underbrush, animal skin clinging to his body, torn at the edges. His shy blue eyes darted over his shoulder, wide with panic. Fear gripped him tight as he pushed forward, arms pumping, legs moving with everything he had left.
Tak. Tak. Tak.
His feet slapped the earth in rapid rhythm. His breath came out in short gasps—huff, huff—but he didn't stop.
Behind him, shadows moved.
Not one. Not two.
Several.
A glint here. A glimmer there.
Shiny eyes.
Too many.
Lurking in the dark. Low to the ground. Fast. Their growls were wet with hunger, their breath loud, and saliva dripped in thick strings from snarling mouths.
They were closing in.
Tak—tak—growl—snap—
---
On the other side of the thicket—
Tak. Tak. Tak.
Kaya's boots slammed into the ground, heart hammering in sync with the sound. She dodged low-hanging branches and leapt over gnarled roots, the pain in her foot now a distant ache buried beneath adrenaline.
She was getting closer. Kaya could feel it—hear it.
But it was so damn dark.
Even though she'd trained for this—fighting in pitch black, even learning to navigate if she ever went blind—this wasn't a sparring ground. This was real. And out here, she didn't know if the thing beneath her foot was a root, a twisted vine, or some silent creature just waiting to strike.
She moved carefully, every step a quiet decision.
But her memory saved her. She'd seen it clearly from the trees—the man had run toward the river. And even in this darkness, the direction wasn't hard for her to follow. The faint pull of water in the air, the way the trees thinned just slightly—small details her body picked up before her mind could catch up.
And then, suddenly, she was out of the woods.
The space opened up. The river was right there, silver under the moonlight, moving gently like it had no idea something terrifying was happening just beside it.
Her eyes found him instantly.
The man—he was at the very edge of the bank, swaying, arms out like he could stop the river from pulling him in. His legs were barely holding him up, shoes sliding in the wet mud. Panic was written all over his face.
Then she saw what was chasing him.
Hyenas.
At least, that's what they looked like at first.
But no—no, these things were too big. Too thick in the shoulders, their bodies stretched longer than they should be. Their eyes glowed, not just from the light, but with something cruel—something that seemed to understand exactly how scared the man was.
And they liked it.
Saliva dripped from their open jaws, thick and slow, and they crept forward, circling him like they had all the time in the world. The man stumbled back a little more, his heel skimming the edge.
He was going to fall.