❝Shae Burrower, failed author and city girl, from Lavender Lane, at your service.❞
⎯⎯⎯
The story contained within these pages is not about me.
You all know of whom I write. If not by word of mouth or by the speculation of the Chileez Times, then by...
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Walking close to the jungle brought all the stories to mind.
As a child, we were all told the Legend of Boboki. During the War of Cortez, a simple soldier stole away into the jungle. He awakened a beast that massacred both sides of the war. The soldier redeemed himself by slaughtering it on the battlefield, was severely injured, and became lost to the jungle. He was never seen again.
Then there are the stories published in The Chileez Times.
Like clockwork, every few months, there is some new explorer wanting to prove themselves. Maybe they try to emulate Lennon T. James, maybe they want a similar sort of fame, but each time, they fail. They are swallowed by the jungle.
Sometimes, the jungle spits them back out.
They're always dead. Bones are broken. Blood is infected. Skin is scarred. Wounds ooze, freshly inflicted, and flesh is ripped apart.
Confession: It was then I seriously considered turning around. Our prisons are terrible and, for treason, I'd be sent there. Also, King Mollark had promised to absolve my student debt.
I was travelling with Lennon T. James, and I must say, it was only because of the trust I had in the explorer that I did not turn around.
🙞
Sunlight found six of us standing frozen a few strides from the Jungle's edge.
The stories and rumours had finally caught up to us. My decision had been made last night, when sleep evaded me after my rude awakening. The others had been sleeping, however, and were now faced with the reality of what this expedition truly meant.
Being woken from my dreamless sleep last night had left me with time to imagine what the jungle could hold. It had brought back the lullabies and bedtime stories. Both my eyes and my thoughts had kept wandering to the mass of trees sleeping nearby, preparing to swallow us whole.
The seventh human in our group was standing in the shadows of the trees.
Note: Lennon T. James approached the place of our nightmares calmly, steadily... almost casually.
"We need to keep moving."
"Tell me, Jamie..." Hands in his pockets, Wade Lyong stared at the jungle between narrowed eyes. "I confess, I have been waiting for the qualified journalist to start asking questions, but, alas, my curiosity has finally gotten the better of me."
He ignored my muttered protest that made about as much sense as a baby's gurgle.
"How come you have 'never been to the jungle,' yet you own a pet tiger who lives there, know the way here without any aid whatsoever, and had friends in Arriza? You don't even have a map."
I clicked my mouth shut, realising he was correct. I'd been too self-absorbed in my own pity to make the astute observation. I might be irked but Lyong had a very good point.
