---
The jungle did not begin so much as it happened to you. One minute there were sensible shrubs and a path that believed in directions. The next turn there were curtains of vine, tricks of shade, and the soft theater of leaves applauding their own secrets. John slipped under the first drape of liana, Fizz at shoulder height, lantern-bright and very pleased with his own stealth.
"We move like librarians," Fizz whispered. "Silent. Judging."
"Eyes first," John said. "Feet second. Hands only when we already know the answer."
They went in on a diagonal, skirting the better-trodden student trails. Third-class beasts were loud with their bodies even when quiet with their mouths: the scuffing drag where heavy plates skimmed bark, the scrapes where tusks practiced on saplings, the wrong hush that meant something with a belly had decided to nap in the exact worst place.
