The Jungle

The Jungle

Vale trudges through the jungle, swinging at the branches in front of her with a machete. Sweat soaks through her khaki shirt, and she pauses to tie up her matted black hair into a ponytail. The heavy musk smell of the jungle invades her nostrils, and Vale almost gags. It reminds her of one of her ex-boyfriends cheap colognes. As she muses on this, sweat drips down into her blue eyes, blinding her. Muttering, she wipes the sweat away with the palm of her hand and wipes it on her khaki shorts. Her throat feels like a desert. Licking her parched lips, she drops her machete and reaches for the steel grey canteen slung around her slender waist. Unhooking it from her belt, she twists the top off and brings the canteen to her dried lips, guzzling the water down in gulps. The cool, clear liquid rushes down her throat like a waterfall.

As she drinks, she feels a sharp sting on her neck. Wincing, she slaps her hand there, then brings it before her eyes. On her sweaty palm is a smashed mosquito--its broken body shows tiny spots of blood. Her blood. Vale frowns.

"I hate those little blood suckers." She mutters to herself.

Vale twists the top back on the canteen, and puts it back on her belt. She picks up the machete from the ground and looks around, her eyes scanning the trees. Her ears ring with the screeching of little monkeys high in the branches. Hordes of mosquitoes assault her ears with their insistent buzzing. Again she slaps her neck and cheeks with her left hand, trying to chase them off. She sighs and shakes her head.

" I didn't believe Patrick when he told me what to expect out here. But now I do". She pauses and a faint smile creeps up her face.

"It really is a jungle out here." She said.

an old map

a lost city

in the jungle