The jungle was alive with morning light.
Sunbeams pierced through the canopy, painting golden patterns on the forest floor. Birds called in the distance. Insects hummed their endless songs.
...And somewhere nearby, water flowed over smooth stones, a peaceful sound that carried through the trees.
A girl walked through the undergrowth, humming softly to herself.
She was maybe fifteen, maybe sixteen—hard to tell. Her black hair fell past her shoulders in waves that caught the dappled sunlight. Her eyes were a warm amber, almost golden in certain light, focused and alert as she scanned her surroundings.
She wore a simple dress, practical and patched in a few places, with a small pouch at her waist and a larger basket woven from vines hanging from her arm.
Despite her age, there was something in the way she moved that spoke of someone who had grown up fast.
Someone who had learned to be careful, to be aware, to survive.
