Ricardo couldn’t breathe.
The animal stepped back half a pace, staring at him again, chest rising and falling. Rainwater still clung to the jaguar’s whiskers. A thin pale scar crossed one side of its muzzle, disappearing into the spotted fur.
It looked old.
Not weak.
Just marked.
Like the jungle itself.
Ricardo swallowed hard.
He did not move, except for the involuntary trembling he could no longer control.
The jaguar lowered its head once more and sniffed the rope at his waist. Then it paused.
Its ears turned sharply toward the undergrowth.
Something had changed.
At first Ricardo thought it was only the pounding in his ears. Then he heard it too.
Voices.
Continued on the next page
