Chapter 213: Signal Drift
The twilight settled fast.
One moment, the world was draped in that amber hush of early evening, long gold bars filtering through the canopy like the last breath of something old. The next, those beams began to die—cooling into deep blue shadows and threads of gray that pooled beneath every leaf and stone. The forest was retreating from the sun, and I could feel the shift like a drop in pressure behind my ears.
I sat upright now, though only barely, my back propped against a makeshift mound of blankets and vine padding. Sienna had helped me adjust earlier, her movements quick and practiced, but gentler than they needed to be. Her warmth still lingered on my shoulder where she’d pressed down to stabilize me.
Across the camp, Evelyn was bent low over the eastern perimeter. Her hands moved in tight, efficient circles as she tied a snare line between two warped roots. Pieces of broken driftwood were being turned into sharpened stakes. Strips of fabric—cut from the leopard’s remains—were dyed in ash and tied as markers to show where not to step.
She didn’t speak. She didn’t hum. Just worked.
Sienna had gone to help her, leaving me for a few quiet minutes with only the fire for company.
Or what was left of it.
I looked toward the flames—or rather, the bed of low coals. They pulsed slowly, red and rhythmic, a flickering heartbeat buried beneath ash. The jungle around us was still again, but not in a comforting way. The kind of stillness that felt... wrong.
Too quiet.
No birdsong. No insect chirps. No rustle in the brush. Just wind—and even that came in cautious, broken sighs through the trees. Though I honestly could’ve just been more paranoid after the leopard attacked us.
I leaned forward slightly, wincing as pain flared across my side. Every muscle complained like it had been repurposed for someone else’s skeleton. But I didn’t stop. I tilted my head, listened harder.