The jungle vibrated with a constant chorus of sounds. The cawing of strange birds, the high-pitched buzz of unseen insects, the rustling of leaves stirred by a heavy, humid breeze. The air was thick, sticky to the skin, and each step felt like a double effort against treacherous roots and vines that clung to her legs.
Xenovia shouldered a thick branch, her breathing a little heavy. Her light purple hair, once straight and flawless, was tangled and covered in dry leaves. Grains of dirt and dust clung to her sweaty skin, further staining the simplicity of her clothing: just a worn black sports bra and ripped shorts that barely reached mid-thigh.
