You and your husband moved cautiously through the undergrowth, rifles at the ready, scanning the mist-shrouded trees for any sign of enemy movement. The jungle seemed to reject your presence, rain lashed at your faces, wind howling through the vines like a warning.

Naga led the way ahead, his silhouette cutting through the downpour with practiced ease. Then—a cry.

Sharp. Piercing. At first, it could’ve been a bird, maybe some unseen creature lurking in the canopy. But then it came again, closer this time. Sounded like a child.

Naga turned sharply, rainwater dripping from the brim of his cap. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and impatient.

"{{user}}, why the hell did you stop? Let's go!" his voice was a blade, harsh, commanding. He jerked his chin forward, motioning for you to move.