Chapter-9.

Ah yes.

The sparrow.

Currently dangling like a tiny prisoner of war, watching everything with the wide-eyed panic of someone who knew they were no longer in the "maybe pet" category.

That gave her an idea.

One test subject. One snake. One roast.

Simple math.

She'd roast the snake, feed a sample to the bird, and wait twenty minutes. If the bird survived? Dinner time. If not—well, better the bird than her.

A smile curled on her lips. The kind of smile that made clouds scatter and rodents file missing persons reports.

The sparrow? Oh, he felt it.

First came the sweat. Then the shiver. His tiny feet twitched in their bindings as an invisible chill slithered down his back.

He didn't know what was happening, but he did know one thing.

(Why is this female laughing… and why does it feel like the beginning of his obituary?)

He whimpered in silence, feathers fluffing like stress popcorn.

God

help

Not that his tiny shouts mattered. Kaya couldn't understand a single feather-fluffing thing the sparrow was screaming in his high-pitched, birdy panic.

Too bad.

Life is always unfair.

Anyway, with the food situation sort-of handled—or at least trussed up like jungle sushi—it was time for a new crisis.

Nightfall.

Ugh. That time of day.

Normally, she'd love dusk. Back home, that meant either collapsing into a blessed nap or striding through the camp on patrol, feeling mildly superior and properly caffeinated. But this? This wasn't her world.

This was a dark, oversized murder playground filled with who-knows-what kind of things lurking in the shadows.

In places like this, night wasn't just night.

It was a shift change for predators.

She could practically hear her old captain's voice in the back of her head, gruff and annoyingly correct: "Never take darkness lightly in an unknown forest. That's when the real hunters clock in."

And she wasn't about to argue.

Fire was a no-go. Sure, she could cook the snake and have a hot meal. But one whiff of sizzling meat and the jungle's dinner bell would start ringing for all the wrong creatures. A single crackle of flame and she'd have every predator in a five-mile radius RSVP'ing to her campsite like it was a barbecue invitation.

But eating raw snake? Her stomach clenched at the thought.

It wasn't just the ick factor. She had eaten raw stuff during missions before—paper-thin fish slices or barely-there chicken—but even then, her stomach would complain like a grumpy toddler. Human evolution had been great for inventing Wi-Fi and tactical gear, but unfortunately, it had also made them pathetically fragile when it came to digesting uncooked, wiggly forest protein.

This body needed real, cooked food. Not something that might still bite her back on the way down.

But cooking meant danger. Sleeping outside in the open meant danger. Everything was danger. Honestly, all she wanted was a moment of not strategizing her survival.

The river nearby was a nice bonus—cool air, clear water, the kind of ambiance that made her almost feel like camping.

Almost.

Because lying out here in the open under the stars? That wasn't camping.

That was serving yourself up like a buffet to whatever nocturnal teeth-haver sniffed the breeze.

So no. Absolutely not. Sleeping under the stars sounded poetic until those stars blinked out behind the shadow of something with claws.

Her gaze darted across the area. She had maybe twenty, thirty minutes of light left. The sun was slipping like a guilty thief behind the trees, taking safety with it.

And she was tired.

Starving.

Slightly feral.

Somewhere between building a hidden sleeping spot, prepping potential poison chicken-noodle-snake, and dealing with a nervous hostage bird, Kaya would have to make some quick decisions.

Because one thing was clear—if she didn't act fast, the jungle was going to decide for her.

And the jungle? It didn't care if she hadn't eaten.

After ten minutes of searching, kicking loose dirt, and wrestling her thoughts, Kaya finally found it.

A tree.

Not a magical one, not even particularly wide—but it was tall, sturdy, and just enough. Enough for tonight. Enough for her aching body to lean against without immediately crumpling like wet paper.

She sighed.

Tonight, sleep was a luxury she couldn't afford. Not here. Not in this thick, suspiciously quiet forest that felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for her to slip up. Staying awake all night? That was fine. She'd done worse. Back in the military, she'd once held the perimeter for three days straight while it poured like hell was leaking.

But today wasn't just any day.

It started with betrayal—the traitorous couple she'd trusted. Then humiliation—being watched like prey. Then chaos—death, giant vultures, that familiar suffocating hunger… and to top it off, a twisted ankle that had her limping like a retired action hero.

Honestly, she deserved a trophy.

Still, she had the tree. A place to sit. And—lucky for the snake and sparrow—no fire.

That was their saving grace tonight. Because Kaya? She wasn't in the mood to fight flames and fate. Her body was running on fumes, and the last thing she wanted was to light a predator beacon with roasted snake as bait.

So instead, she dug out the wild berries she'd picked up along the way. No, she hadn't lost her mind. She wasn't about to blindly eat jungle berries like some lost tourist.

She had tested them first.

On the sparrow.

And it was still alive. Fluffing around. Slightly offended, sure—but alive.

So that meant they were probably fine. Good enough for now.