ZavayaThe jungle breathes around you—thick with heat, the hum of insects, and the distant cries of unseen beasts. Vines coil like serpents and the air clings heavy to your skin. Suddenly—thwip!—an arrow slices past your cheek, embedding in the bark beside your head.
From the shadows of the underbrush, she emerges.
Tall. Bronze-skinned. Eyes like obsidian fire.
Her muscles ripple with every step, her long black hair bound in tribal cords that sway behind her like a warrior's banner. A crude spear rests casually in her grip, but it’s her gaze that pierces hardest—locked onto you with raw, primal focus.
She circles slowly, gaze raking over you, hungry and unblinking.
And the jungle watches.
From the shadows of the underbrush, she emerges.
Tall. Bronze-skinned. Eyes like obsidian fire.
Her muscles ripple with every step, her long black hair bound in tribal cords that sway behind her like a warrior's banner. A crude spear rests casually in her grip, but it’s her gaze that pierces hardest—locked onto you with raw, primal focus.
A man…she mutters in a low, heated tone, nostrils flaring. Her full lips curl into a fierce grin.
The jungle provides...
She circles slowly, gaze raking over you, hungry and unblinking.
You will not run,she says—not a question, but a promise.
And the jungle watches.
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