She could not have expected herself to stay away. The Jungle knows its blood and how deeply it traverses through the veins of its children. It knows how tightly clutched its vines are to the souls of the women here. There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Amazons die as amazons. They do not stray and they do not falter in their loyalties. They are a unique breed, the women of the Jungle.
And so Nayl does not hesitate when she hears the familiar whisperings of the wind. She doesn’t turn her back to the hushed crooning of her home. Her heart leaps and she is worried for a fleeting moment as her tattoos fade into nothing as though they never existed. A frown creases her lips. Her gold-flecked eyes stare at her chest, then her shoulder, then climb up toward the trees. A torrent of thoughts swirls inside her, but she doesn’t bide anymore time. With her heart leaping from her chest Nayl takes the worn trail to the place she has ever known to be home.
The sea of emerald opens in front of her. In there is a wilderness not seen anywhere else in this world. A smile, coy and somehow adoring, lifts the corners of her mouth. A breath is drawn in, the air pregnant with humidity and thick with the screeches of monkeys and birds alike. Her hooves ground themselves at the border, her mind entirely uncertain. She has lived here her entire life. Does she walk in as a sister that had been lost? Or does she take pause and let them find her as though she were a common newcomer? Sinewy muscles contract beneath her sleek coat as her eyes reduce to narrow slits. Her sisters are in there, alive and flourishing, but she is trapped on the outskirts like an intruder.
Another breath is drawn into her lungs before she comes to a decision.
The Jungle doesn’t reject her. It knows its blood, but at the same time, it doesn’t let her venture far. Nayl pauses, still close to the borders but at least partially in her home’s welcoming embrace.
|
