Tension hung over the raft like a storm cloud. Every creak of wood, every snap of a branch in the distance set hearts racing. Yet… nothing came.
The jungle natives didn't attack.
They watched.
Silent. Sinister.
From the safety of the trees, their dark shapes peered through the foliage—barely visible, almost ghost-like. Some crouched in the branches high above, their eyes glinting faintly in the shifting sunlight. Others stood half-concealed in the vines, lean bodies painted in swamp-colored streaks, spears gripped loosely but not raised.
They made no move.
Not yet.
And then, just as quickly as they had appeared… they vanished.
One by one, the figures melted back into the dense jungle, swallowed by the green void. Not a leaf rustled, not a twig cracked as they disappeared. It was as if they'd never been there—phantoms of the forest.
The group let out a collective breath, though no one dared to relax fully.
