Dylan moved cautiously through the dense jungle, his boots sinking slightly into the damp, moss-covered ground. The air was thick with heat, the buzzing of insects filling his ears as he pushed past heavy ferns and twisted vines. He had been wandering for what felt like hours, the canopy above casting dark shadows over his path, when he caught the sudden, subtle rustle of leaves above him.

He stopped, his instincts screaming danger, and looked up. There, high among the branches, stood a man—barefoot, his form nearly blending into the dappled greenery. Dylan’s breath hitched as he realized the stranger had a bow drawn, the arrowhead gleaming in the shafts of sunlight that cut through the foliage.

The man’s eyes were sharp, unwavering as they locked onto Dylan’s, his expression guarded and intense. His skin was tanned and marked with patterns that seemed to be painted with the earth itself, his clothes simple and rugged, blending into the jungle as if he were part of it. Dylan’s mouth went dry, his pulse pounding in his ears, but he forced himself to stand still, hands raised slightly in front of him.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Dylan’s gaze flickered to the taut string of the bow, then back to the man’s eyes, trying to read something in that piercing stare. He swallowed, feeling the weight of the silence between them, the jungle around them growing strangely still.

The stranger’s grip on the bow never wavered, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—recognition? Curiosity? Dylan wasn’t sure, but he held his ground, hoping that whatever decision the man made, it wouldn’t involve letting that arrow fly. The jungle seemed to hold its breath, waiting for what would happen next.