Boundaries

Chapter 15

The boys tread carefully through the forest, the tall oaks of Bluewood suddenly seeming twenty feet high as the leaves of decidedly deciduous trees become long, exotic curtains. The air thickens, the atmosphere no longer fresh and breezy but tight and claustrophobic, the heat of the wild, overgrown jungle clawing at their throats as they explore deeper into the heart of the Amazon.

Dylan leads the way, his hand reaching every now and then to the sharpened stick in his waistband. Except that it's not a sharpened stick. It had been, when they had stepped into the forest, but now it's a machete, he is sure of it. He can feel the cool metal pressed against his skin, the heaviness of its handle causing a distinct difference in the tread of his footprints.

Sweat crawls down the side of his forehead as he freezes, his hand raising silently to Orion who stands just behind him. He can't see him, but he can feel his presence, buzzing behind him like static electricity.

Orion nods, pulling out his rifle and balancing it on Dylan's shoulder. He aims, his right eye closing as he hones in on the panther in front of them. It's dark as night, almost invisible in the dense, emerald foliage around them. But he can see it.

The hunter takes his shot.

Orion curses, lifting the long stick off Dylan's shoulder and leans it against his own.

"Missed by a hairs breadth." Orion utters, his voice gravelly as he adjusts the brim of the large, invisible hat on his head.

He has no idea what that means, but he is certain of it regardless.

"The way should be clear now, at least." Dylan says, shrugging.

He removes the machete from the waist band of his shorts and makes light work of the ferns prohibiting their way, slashing wildly as he moves forwards.

Orion keeps watch, his steady gaze surveying the land as they forge onwards.

"Stop." He commands suddenly.

Dylan pauses, freezing in his place as he turns and looks at his fellow explorer.

"Booby trap, twelve o'clock." He murmurs.

Dylan turns his head, suddenly seeing the poorly concealed trap.

A small divot in the ground is in actuality a pit, covered in loose ferns, hiding sharpened sticks and live serpents that writhe beneath. He can hear their scales passing over each other, the hatred of their reptilian hiss chilling him to the bone.

A lucky escape from certain death.

"How will we bypass it?" Dylan asks.

Orion looks about, glancing finally to a branch above him.

"We swing over it." He decides.

His voice isn't timid and doesn't shake. It is that of a leader, a voice that his father had deemed impossible to emanate from his son's lips a long time ago.

Dylan nods, sheathing his machete once more.

He crouches, watching the branch above him before leaping into the air. His body is lithe, like that of the panther, his hands finding the branch and holding him in place as he swings. He lets go with one hand, swinging his body forwards.

He grasps the branch with his free hand, further along this time, and continues to swing his way over the deathtrap beneath him. Orion watches him go, keeping the coast clear until Dylan dismounts.

He drops to the floor gracefully, falling into a crouch as he watches the woods.

"Alright. Come on over." Dylan calls.