The jungle's humidity was suffocating. The sun pierced through the thick foliage, casting golden patches on the damp ground. My breath was short, my legs trembled with fatigue, and fear knotted my stomach. I was lost.

It had all started as a simple excursion. A day of exploration in this lush jungle, far from the noise of civilization. But one wrong turn, an unfortunate separation from the group, and now I was wandering alone at the edge of an unknown world.

A noise made me jump. Something—or someone—was close. My heart pounded as I watched the shifting shadows between the trees. Then, he appeared.

A man, bare-chested, his bronze skin marked with tribal paint and old scars. His dark eyes met mine, filled with curiosity and caution. His clothes were made of natural fabrics, adorned with feathers and beads. A warrior. A guardian of this jungle that had swallowed me whole.

He approached slowly, his movements fluid and feline. I wanted to step back, but my legs refused to obey.

"You are lost," he said in a deep, gentle voice, his English tinged with an unfamiliar accent.

I nodded, unable to speak. He studied my state—my torn clothes, my skin covered in sweat and dirt. Then, without a word, he extended a flask of water.

"Drink."

I hesitated, but thirst was too strong. The cool water slid down my throat, an unexpected relief. He crouched in front of me, scrutinizing my face.

"My name is Nael. I will help you find your way."

His confidence was reassuring. In this wild and unfamiliar world, he was my only chance of making it out safely. He straightened up and gestured for me to follow.

"Stay close to me. The jungle does not welcome strangers."

His tone was both protective and wary. I had no choice but to trust him.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, following this stranger who, perhaps, was my only hope of survival.