Walking close to the jungle brought all the stories to mind.

As a child, we were all told the Legend of Boboki. During the War of Cortez, a simple soldier stole away into the jungle. He awakened a beast that massacred both sides of the war. The soldier redeemed himself by slaughtering it on the battlefield, was severely injured, and became lost to the jungle. He was never seen again.

Then there are the stories published in The Chileez Times.

Like clockwork, every few months, there is some new explorer wanting to prove themselves. Maybe they try to emulate Lennon T. James, maybe they want a similar sort of fame, but each time, they fail. They are swallowed by the jungle.

Sometimes, the jungle spits them back out.

They're always dead. Bones are broken. Blood is infected. Skin is scarred. Wounds ooze, freshly inflicted, and flesh is ripped apart.

Confession: It was then I seriously considered turning around. Our prisons are terrible and, for treason, I'd be sent there. Also, King Mollark had promised to absolve my student debt.

I was travelling with Lennon T. James, and I must say, it was only because of the trust I had in the explorer that I did not turn around.

🙞

Sunlight found six of us standing frozen a few strides from the Jungle's edge.

The stories and rumours had finally caught up to us. My decision had been made last night, when sleep evaded me after my rude awakening. The others had been sleeping, however, and were now faced with the reality of what this expedition truly meant.

Being woken from my dreamless sleep last night had left me with time to imagine what the jungle could hold. It had brought back the lullabies and bedtime stories. Both my eyes and my thoughts had kept wandering to the mass of trees sleeping nearby, preparing to swallow us whole.

The seventh human in our group was standing in the shadows of the trees.

Note: Lennon T. James approached the place of our nightmares calmly, steadily... almost casually.

"We need to keep moving."

"Tell me, Jamie..." Hands in his pockets, Wade Lyong stared at the jungle between narrowed eyes. "I confess, I have been waiting for the qualified journalist to start asking questions, but, alas, my curiosity has finally gotten the better of me."

He ignored my muttered protest that made about as much sense as a baby's gurgle.

"How come you have 'never been to the jungle,' yet you own a pet tiger who lives there, know the way here without any aid whatsoever, and had friends in Arriza? You don't even have a map."

I clicked my mouth shut, realising he was correct. I'd been too self-absorbed in my own pity to make the astute observation. I might be irked but Lyong had a very good point.

Lennon T. James' gaze, which had been riveted on the ground, now fixed on his friend. "I've never been to The Jungle, Wade." He turned his back to us, facing the treeline, his hand on Shirka's head.

Note: Lennon T. James knows what he's doing.

With a sigh, I tucked my pen into the mass of unruly hair tied in a knot on top of my head. My journal went back in my pack, and I walked forward to join Lennon T. James.

"Pray tell, Miss Burrower, why are you walking towards certain death so calmly?" Lyong raised two sharp eyebrows when I turned to face him.

"Absolution of student debt." I shrugged, shifting the strap of my pack. "And for the story this will make."

I realised it was true: I had access and full rights to the story about Chileez' favourite hero. It would kickstart my career, maybe, but it was also a guaranteed success. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I can't deny I was honoured to have been drafted into this expedition.

Lennon T. James gave an unimpressed grunt. "I'm honoured, Shae."

My smile was quick. That sounded more like the Lennon T. James that had strode into the throne room and made demands from the king.

"And you, Lyong?" I asked, not unkindly, curious to know why he would come on this uncomfortable expedition. Both of us cared too much about our hair to have grass stuck in it, but here we were.

He sighed, a touch dramatically. "I volunteered, unlike the rest of you. I can turn around and leave whenever I wish. Now seems like a good time."

Yet he made no move to turn around. Though he annoyed me more often than not, I appreciated how he diffused the awkward silences. I hoped he'd stay with us for a bit longer— and maybe get bitten by a snake or two.

"I'm coming for the pardon of past crimes." Mitch walked over to us, swinging a stick she'd found in the brush at some point. It whistled faintly as it swung through the air.

It almost hit Nattaniel, who followed on her heels. When everyone looked at him, he gestured to the convict he was supposed to be guarding. His foot hit her heel. She threw a sharp elbow into his abdomen.

"Since we are all being so honest with each other..." Gino Morton tipped his head to the side. "This is an assignment to pass or fail as a demonstration of my capability of functioning independently. How I'm supposed to demonstrate this within a group is beyond me."

"Assignment for who?" Mitch asked before I could, leaning her arm on my shoulder. She was that much taller than I, and though it was a bit annoying to be reminded I was short, I liked that she was comfortable enough to do so.

Gino tugged his jacket open and pulled it to the side, showcasing the insignia of the Chileez army. Unlike Nattaniel's colours, which was for the King's Guard, Gino's was that of a common soldier.

Lennon T. James shifted. "We need to go."

"Wait, wait!" Ella lightly waltzed our way, hands swinging with her skirt. "I have to walk into Death's Garden because otherwise I'd have been executed at dawn. Lennon T. James has become the judge of my fate."

At this, no one knew quite where to look: at Ella Siwatskie, the girl no one thought was quite capable of something as dark as murder, or at Lennon T. James, who looked almost as thrilled at being Judge as he was about leading an expedition of seven into the jungle.

"Aright." Lennon T. James started walking. "Is that enough of a confession or should we wait for Wade to confess he's two steps from the debtor's prison?"

Surprised, I glanced behind me to see Lyong glare at his friend. Waiting until most of us reached the treeline, the aristocrat followed after a deep sigh and a moment taken to fix his hair.

🙞

The jungle is unlike anything we could ever imagine.

It is green. There are so many shades of green, it takes on a whole new meaning. There is no sound of a train or a crowd of people; just the soft call of birds and the hum of Mallib Crickets.

The shade was welcome. Sunlight was filtered through broad leaves and crisscrossing branches. However, Gino was correct: it was a thick heat in the jungle, and it clung to your skin. Sweat dripped down our backs.

The distant sound of water running reached our ears around lunch time.

We'd passed several springs, which was welcome since most of us had run out of water last night. It was clear to drink and we drank greedily.

Several days passed.

At night, the jungle became the place of nightmares. It was dark and no light reached the forest floor. We couldn't find wood dry enough to burn. For heat, we relied on our jackets and the two blankets Lennon T. James had packed in my and his packs.

It was usually given to the coldest members of the group: Ella Siwatskie and Wade Lyong.

My jacket was enough to do the trick, and because of its partial skirt, it covered most of me. The lack of a fire made the darkness complete; there was no glowing bug or plant to light the night.

Note: Lennon T. James is unbothered by circumstances we all deem uncomfortable.

This much was obvious: adventuring is an uncomfortable business. More so than I anticipated.

There was nowhere to bathe. If we smelled, we had grown so used to it we didn't notice. Mitch had a streak of mud on her cheek she forgot to rub off and that stayed there for days. Lyong complained about his hair as often as Lennon T. James said, "Don't eat that."

Ella was intrigued by each small fruit and wild nut and protruding root.

Nattaniel wasn't vocal about his discomfort but he glared at the ground each time he tripped. Gino had cuts across one arm, through the fabric, where he'd blocked a thorn-covered branch that someone released too early.

We grew tired of eating our dwindling rations. I was shocked it had kept us this long as it was, but Lennon T. James warned against picking anything.

With no fire, we could not boil water to make the coffee grounds at least three of us had packed. That sent everyone grumbling each morning, no matter that the circumstances had not changed. No one grew used to it.

Sleep was hard to come by. If the ground was springy and soft, it was also wet enough to soak through your clothes, and if the ground was dry and solid, it was too hard to be comfortable. We had to take turns keeping watch, which further fatigued everyone. Lennon T. James never told us what to look for, and we were all too apprehensive to guess.

Those first days were very uneventful, but we can skip over that.