Meanwhile, deep in the belly of the jungle—
where the air hung thick and wet like a damp blanket,
where sunlight fought its way through tangled canopies and lost,
Lara moved like she belonged there.
She crouched near the riverbank, jungle knife flashing in her grip. With precise strokes, she stripped three sturdy branches down to their cores. Bark peeled away. Points carved sharp. She smoothed each tip against a flat stone until they gleamed pale and deadly.
She did not rush, nor was her movement desperate.
It was calculated.
The waterfall thundered a few meters away, its roar masking smaller sounds. Mist clung to her skin. The current shimmered silver beneath the morning light.
Lara stepped into the shallow part of the river.
The water was cold enough to bite, but she didn't flinch. She stilled herself, becoming another shadow among shadows. Even her breathing softened.
A large carp drifted too close, lazy and unsuspecting.
In one fluid motion—
Swoosh!
