As I sat on a rock, surrounded by tumultuous water the colour of horse dung, I appreciated the aqueducts of Chileez like I'd never done before.

I longed for the cobbled streets, the lovely bridge that spanned the Hanochk Moat and its hanging lanterns and the elegant benches where I'd sat with my notebooks. Not like this piece of hard rock, so callous and slippery beneath my hands.

In my defence, it was not my fault I was stranded in the middle of the river by myself. Shae Burrower, as you know by now, had never climbed a tree— much less scaled one and swung to another via a rough, thick rope that didn't fit in my hands.

Note: Lennon T. James may think carefully but his decisions don't always cater to the weaknesses of others.

Not that this situation was as a result of my weaknesses. I would call it inexperience. Lyong would disagree, if his own delicate hands had not sent him sprawling on the opposite bank.

The river, with its lack of a bridge and its fast-moving water, was caged in by a steep bank on either side. Trees clung to rock and earth, hanging their branches over the water and dipping their roots beneath the river bed.

It was a sturdy, moss-covered, plant-bearing tree that Lennon T. James scaled.

"We will cross through here," he'd called down, as if the tree was a gateway and the branches a road. He disappeared quickly through the branches, climbing far above the forest floor.

Looking towards the river, I noticed there was a distinct gap between the arms of the trees on either side of the river.

"Um..." Gino Morton came to stand next to me, head tipped back to watch the leaves rustling and branches swaying. One of his eyes blinked and his shoulder tipped up to accommodate the twitch. "I haven't climbed a tree since I was a little boy."

"I can confidently say I have never climbed a tree." I tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, flinching as I felt the dirt and sweat covering them. My heart ached for a hot bath.

Mitch leaned her elbow against my shoulder, a grin toying at the corners of her mouth. "This is an easy climb. I'm more concerned about the crossing."

"Why don't we swim?"

At this, all of us turned our attention away from the hidden explorer and towards Ella Siwatski.

Her braid was coming undone, her hands on her hips as she unconsciously twirled her skirts about her. They were untorn but muddied, and yet, I was still envious of them. My trousers clung to my legs as if they would never let go.

I hesitated, wondering how I could say this kindly, and then allowed the words to fall out of my mouth. "Can you swim, Ella?"

"Of course. There was a river near the farm my father managed." Her blue eyes found mine. "Can you swim?"

A flush crept up my neck. "Um, no."

There was a brief moment of silence.

Nathaniel cleared his throat. "I couldn't swim much either, Shae. Us city folk rarely can."

"There is the moat." Ella's remark brought a different sort of silence.

Anyone that had lived in Hanochk was aware of the number of bodies the police pulled from the moat each year. It was where those who were too sick to heal, or too sad to live, went. It was where the lowest of the low, those beyond all help or hope lived and died.

Wade Lyong drew up closer to the group. "She is as intelligent as a hummingbird is slow, but twice as pretty." That comment went unanswered, but he didn't notice. "Did you not have need of tree climbing skills as a soldier, Gino?"

Gino shot Wade Lyong a look, no hint of a twitch about him. "Well, I don't know, Lyong. Between the rustling of leaves that would give away my position, and the branches that would obstruct my vision, trees were never really an option."

"Pity." Wade sighed, feathers unruffled by the tone of voice the kindest member of our team had taken. "That is probably why Jamie never went into the army, then. He is too fond of tree climbing."

Gino sighed and I couldn't help sharing a smile with Mitch.

There was a faint bit of rustling, but it could've been the hint of a breeze that played with the canopy, and then the adventurer was once again within sight.

Note: Lennon T. James is surprisingly agile, climbing and bending through the branches like some sort of human-like snake.

Lennon T. James did not pause for a moment when his feet hit the ground. He glanced at Mitch. "You'll go first. Then Nattaniel, Morton, and Miss Siwatskie. Wade and Shae can go last."

Confusion stemmed from several places. Why were some of us called by our last names while others by our first? Why were we climbing trees to cross a river? Why did you leave the two people who caused the most irritation in the group to go together? Where did Shirka go? And why is being tall considered more attractive than being short?

Nevertheless, no one voiced any of these questions, and so none of them were answered.

He was making his way back up, disappearing within seconds.

Mitch sighed. A glance behind her assured her of Nattaniel's whereabouts, and I briefly wondered why she even bothered to check. He was two steps behind her at all times, not letting the prisoner out of his sight. This was a job, and as such, he never relaxed.

Mitch walked up to the tree, carefully reached for the first branch, and had to go up onto her tiptoes in order to reach. Then, bracing herself on the tree trunk, she hauled herself up. Her eyes, darkened by the shadows of the jungle, met mine. A wink, then she was gone.

Borys Nattaniel was next. Several centimetres taller than her, but much heavier, he grunted as he hauled himself onto the branch. His movements were slower but confident.

They disappeared, the rustling of the leaves now scattering birds and upsetting some sort of nest; a sudden buzz emitted from somewhere in the canopy. I was unable to identify exactly where and what, but my skin suddenly itched everywhere.

Curiosity drove me closer to the edge of the river, eyes scanning the canopy for my teammates. A sudden crack broke the quiet, followed by a splash as a branch hit the water.

I spotted Nattaniel, his weight bending the branch beneath him. Mitch was higher than him, casually sitting on a branch and waving when she realised I'd spotted them. I raised a hand in return.

That's when, quite by accident, I realised what the rope was before.

Thick and long, it had been knotted high in the trees— much higher than Mitch and Nattaniel were. Nathaniel was on the lowest branch that stretched over the water; Mitch, not a few branches higher. I could not see Lennon T. James.

Mitch grabbed the rope, seemed to jerk on it, and then scurried up a bit more. She moved carefully, but nimbly, and then she was falling.

The rope caught and swung.

It was several metres above the water at its lowest point. Then she was swinging a bit higher again, past the opposite bank. Her hands let go, and she hit the floor of the jungle. The rope, devoid of the weight, now swung back slower.

The ground beneath my feet shifted and I scrambled back, losing focus. My boot had slipped on a rock, rolling to the side, and I had not seriously lost my balance.

"What are you doing?" I snapped at Lyong, whom I noticed were standing right next to me.

A glare snapped into place. "Absolutely nothing. Why are you hovering over the edge of the river?"

"I was watching Mitch swing across on a rope!" Realising I was once again arguing with Wade Lyong, I closed my eyes and drew in a slow breath. "Is Nattaniel swinging yet?"

"What?"

My eyes snapped open. "Is Borys crossing the river yet, Lyong?"

His sharp eyebrows raised but he didn't reply. Dark eyes, darker than Mitch's, looked back towards the river. His hair, I was satisfied to see, looked every bit as greasy as mine.

It was not the product that made it stand so stiffly upright.

I turned my attention back to the scene unfolding in the treetops. Borys Nattaniel was on the opposite bank, and when I glanced behind me, I realised I'd missed the ascent of Ella Siwatskie and Gino Morton.

"If you are going to be chronicling this in your account of my friend's legendary expedition, then note that Gino Morton aided Ella Siwatskie in climbing the tree."

I sniffed, mentally noting the unsurprised fact though I refused to acknowledge the aristocrat's 'help.'

Gino Morton was nice. Ella Siwatskie was only a tad bit taller than I was. The logical conclusion? He'd help her up.

I spied the pair making their way across, higher than Borys had been. Ella was quick and light, and I was surprised that Gino seemed to struggle a bit more.

Knowing I'm next, I ambled back to the base of the tree without further comment. The only thought that comforted me was that Wade Lyong was as tall as Mitch, and if she had to go onto her tiptoes, he'd also have to.

How degrading.

"Shae?"

I jumped back, startled by both the voice and the proximity of it. Lennon T. James was centimetres from where I stood, slowly lowering himself to the ground.

He looked past me at Lyong. "Wade, come along."

"Jamie, I am not your dog or your wife to be called like that." Wade followed instruction very well for someone who didn't like being told what to do. He was beside his friend in seconds, staring up at the branch as if he'd never seen a tree before.

I raised my eyebrows. "You better not take that tone with your wife."

"He wouldn't be able to find a wife regardless of his tone, Miss Burrower." Lyong glanced at me, sighed, then reached for the branch. His fingers fell short by several centimetres. "Not unless he wanted to be married for his wealth or status."

Biting back my laugh, I smiled at Lyong's struggle. "Trust me, Lyong, no woman would trek through the wilderness for a title and a bit of money."

Lyong's hands, which had just touched the branch, slipped as he sputtered an indignant laugh. He didn't say anything, however, only jumped in order to reach the limb of the tree. Then he dramatically groaned and grunted as he pulled himself onto the branch, which was shedding moss and bark at an alarming rate.

"Shae, I believe your reasons for coming were because of your desire to be an author, which is a title, and the absolution of your student loans, which are a 'bit of money.'" Lennon T. James' eyes were laughing at me.

I had nothing to say to that. "That's not what I meant."

Lyong spluttered and heaved for breath, saving me from an uncomfortable sort of embarrassment I was (once again) experiencing. He was clutching the branch above him, knuckles turning white, swaying as if he was perilously close to losing his balance.

"Please," he panted, and I tried hard not to laugh. "Please tell me I'm almost there."

Lennon T. James barely raised his eyebrows. "Lyong, hurry up."

Wade groaned. "I detest my life. What is this? My waistcoat will be soiled. I am sweating, Jamie. This is my nice shirt."

"You've been sweating for weeks, Wade, and that shirt has a stain on it." Lennon T. James hauled himself back up, barely noticing that he'd gone from walking to climbing.

He was not much lighter than Nattaniel, and a bit taller than Gino, so it was a skill to be able to move so elegantly. The rustling came solely from Lyong, who looked like a calf taking his first steps next to the ease of Lennon T. James.

Reaching for the branch, even on my tiptoes, I could not reach. My jump allowed the pads of my fingers to graze the rough bark, but I fell woefully short of being able to grasp it.

"Um... Lennon T. James?" I called, softly in order not to alert the suffering Lyong. He might have disappeared from sight, but his complaining could be heard as clearly as my own breathing.

Lennon T. James paused. He didn't look down, however, and couldn't see my dilemma. At my continued silence, he finally asked, "Yes, Shae?"

"I'm too short." There was a sort of nausea now curdling in my stomach, which was hungry and tired of being embarrassed all the time.

Lennon T. James looked down, eyes almost green as they met mine. Then he smiled, not unkindly, and a dimple showed in one of his cheeks. He manoeuvred himself to reach down, holding out a hand.

I clasped it, he hauled me up with little effort, and then he once again took the lead. He was moving slower than he would've on his own, I knew, and was kind enough to say, "Let me know if you have trouble."

Reaching the rope was not very hard.

Wade Lyong was already swinging when I stopped. Even though it was hard to see from my end, it was clear that he fumbled and fell onto the other side. The rope must've slipped from his hands.

Then, hauling the rope towards us, Lennon T. James instructed, "Hold tight. When you're on the other side, let go no matter what. Don't touch the water, even if you swing too low."

I nodded. Sweat beaded on my palms, my fingers decided to shake, and my lungs felt constricted. "Anything else?"

He handed me the rope. "Shirka is waiting on that side."

That helped, and after a swift nod, I jumped from the branch.

"Shae—"

Looking back, it is easy to see what went wrong. I had grabbed the rope too low, and by jumping, had started dropping sharply and suddenly. When the rope finally pulled taut, I was centimetres from the wild currents of the river. I could feel the spray on my legs. My eyes slammed shut.

My toe hooked on something, stuck fast, and I jerked to a halt. Holding tight, my hands scraped down the rope. With a cry of surprise, pain blooming sharp, I found myself lying face down. By momentum, my pack had ridden up and tangled with my jacket.

I scrambled upright, pack swinging and stumbling as I tried to hold the rope with my skin scraped raw. My hair had come loose and obstructed my vision.

"Shae! Stay still!"

I froze.

Was it a spider? Where the others in danger? Was it a tiger?

The irony of that statement sunk in. Several moments passed, and when no one helped me, I shook the hair out of my face.

I was surrounded by river water.

I hadn't even reached the opposite bank.

"What do I do?" I cried, knowing I would be unable to swim to shore and that the rope was absolutely useless. I couldn't even climb it; my arms were not strong enough to haul myself up.

Lennon T. James knew this. The rope gently tugged out of my hands, and I watched the explorer with my throat constricted and the palms of my hands sweating.

I wiped them on my trousers.

He was a shadow in the trees. Several seconds passed. I looked to the opposite bank, where the crew stood and were yelling things I couldn't make out above the noise of the river.

I looked back at the explorer, and saw he was now swinging. Closer he came, and I scrambled towards where he would be. Leaning forward, holding his hand out, I mirrored the action.

Closer closer—

There was a buzzing and my vision went dark, then too bright.

Small wings beat around me, grazing my neck and my cheeks and my arms with little bodies and legs and something was fuzzy. I couldn't bite back my screech of surprise, tripping over my own feet as I tried to scramble back from the swarm.

I squinted into the glow, swatting at the animals surrounding me until I spotted the markings on one of them. The bulbous abdomen, the hanging legs, the translucent wings, the horned head. Some of them were as big as my thumbnail— some of them were as big as my middle finger.

Golden Glows.

My muscles froze and my bones stiffened.

Creatively named, they were not. Beautiful, in a terrifying way. They held my attention captive, with the soft yellow light that did not flicker and the wings that caught that light, illuminating it further. Even in the middle of the day, they shone as bright as stars.

They were poisonous.

One bite, one sting, and I would be paralyzed for three minutes. There was no antidote; after the three minutes trickled by, my heart would stop, and I would die.

The fear that now gripped my heart sped its beat until I felt it would burst. There was a ringing in my ear, louder than the roar of the river, and my breathing sounded ragged. Panic flitted beneath my skin, tremors wracking it.

The Golden Glows did not mind. The stiller I held, the more of them approached me. They settled on my skin, on my shirt, on my trousers, in my hair.

My eyes looked past them, to the bank of the river, and I spotted five figures waiting there. I could not see Lennon T. James, however, and that made me panic all the more.

There was a roar.

It was familiar, even though I knew I had never heard it before, and suddenly there was Shirka. She was pacing the side of the river, looking to me and then behind her. She ran along the bank, staring into the water, and I wondered what she saw.

A Golden Glow tangled in my hair, wings fluttering against my scalp, and I couldn't help flinching. It unsettled the creatures, and they buzzed angrily.

Help me!

Shirka roared again. She then backed up, faced me, and leapt into the air.

I could make out Lennon T. James yelling, "Shirka, no!" And then there was a splash as the tiger hit the water.

Her head bobbed above the waves as she fought against the current, trying not to be swept downriver as she aimed for my rock. She was halfway to me, three-quarters, and then another roar rent through the air of the jungle.

It was followed by water as the river rose from its banks, the tide rising sharply and quickly, and I had no time to brace myself before the River of Zonn swept me off my feet, and my rock, and into nothing.

🙞

author's note

hello, luvs

i don't know how many of you are still reading this, but thank you to those who are!

if you have a moment, please leave a comment about your thoughts-- anything that you noticed as inconsistent, out of place, or if we are moving too slow!

<3 klara