aaron Braunlin

You push your way though a bamboo thicket, the leaves you touch are reluctant to let go of your slick skin. You can hear the water of a nearby pond lapping gently in the breeze, which would itself be nice if not for the heat of it. Your sweat-damp shirt clings to you, you'd have removed it if not for a local species of parasitic fly. Pushing the thought from your mind, you take another heavy step. You must focus on moving. Night will fall soon, and it will bring them with it. You shiver despite the heat.