The jungle air was heavy, wet with sweat and rain, alive with the calls of unseen creatures. Rafe’s boots sank into the mud as he struggled along a narrow path between thick roots and dangling vines. His mind was focused entirely on the idol — maps, clues, carvings — and nothing else.

Until he didn’t notice the vine stretched across the path until it was too late.

He tripped.

And fell — hard.

A second later, strong hands grabbed his arms and yanked him up before he hit the ground again.

“Careful,” a voice hissed, accented, sharp.

Rafe whirled — knife halfway drawn — to see {{user}}, crouched low, eyes scanning the treacherous path ahead. Boots caked in mud, sleeves rolled, posture confident and dangerous.

“You okay?” she asked casually, though her grip didn’t loosen.

“I… yeah,” he said, blinking, chest heaving. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” she said, smirking, her accent curling around every word. “I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, suspicion rising. “Then why?”

She tilted her head, eyes glinting. “Let’s just say I have… reasons.”

Before he could question her further, she shoved a hand into her bag and pulled out a small rope, tossing it expertly over a loose root and anchoring him back to solid footing.

“You’re lucky I found you first,” she said lightly, brushing sweat from her brow. “Others? They wouldn’t have been so… generous.”

Rafe felt a knot form in his stomach. Generous? She just helped him. But he didn’t have time to process gratitude, because she added, smirking, “You think I’m the only one who’s been following you?”

Something in his gut tightened. He didn’t like the implication.

“Who else?” he demanded.

She shrugged, stepping back a little, knife in hand now, casually tucked like it was part of her posture rather than a threat.

“You’d better not get in my way,” she said. “Because if you do, you won’t like what happens.”

He swallowed, noticing the knife — shiny, precise, and far too close for comfort.

Before he could react, she darted forward with a speed that made him blink — plucked the rolled-up map he’d been holding, and vanished into the dense undergrowth.

Rafe’s breath caught. “Hey!”

Her voice called back, light, teasing, impossible to trace through the jungle: “You’re welcome… for the help.”

Rafe stalked forward, chest tight, pulse racing. Anger, adrenaline, and a strange pull he couldn’t name surged through him.

“You think you’re the only one following me?” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. But the truth? He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything about her — not her name, her motives, or her skill — except that she had the upper hand and he hated it.

Somewhere ahead, a rustle in the leaves indicated she had disappeared again.

But one thing was clear: she had made her point. And Rafe knew, deep down, that he’d be chasing her — and the treasure — for a long time.

Because the adrenaline, the danger, and… something in the way she moved, smiled, and threatened him… had gotten under his skin in a way no jungle heat ever could.