SHADOWS OF THE BEASTS ( SENTIGINX ONE)

Chapter Seventeen

She meticulously gathered a bounty of fruits from the trees,
her hands deftly maneuvering among the branches to collect as many as she could. After her harvest, she left behind only a sparse few,
retreating from the area with a sense of satisfaction. Her steps took her back to the tent, where she hoped to find Andrew still engaged in his tasks.

As she neared the tent, she surveyed the surroundings, her eyes scanning for any sign of him.
She had expected to see him diligently working as he had been before, but the space was eerily empty.
Her anticipation turned to concern as she continued to look around, trying to catch a glimpse of Andrew or any clue of where he might have gone.

The quiet of the evening began to weigh on her, and the absence of his familiar presence added a layer of unease to her growing sense of bewilderment.

“Andrew... Andrew... Andrew,” she called out, her voice rising in desperation as it carried through the open expanse, yet it was as if her words were lost to the wind. Her steps quickened,
driven by a growing urgency. As she ventured further, the scene ahead unfolded with greater clarity. She could see him now,

his figure outlined against the sky, darting back and forth, swinging from one rope to another in an almost rhythmic, almost hypnotic motion. Each swing seemed effortless yet purposeful, as if he were lost in a world of his own creation, where gravity and time held no dominion.

His silhouette cut a stark contrast against the backdrop of the trees and the horizon, each arc through the air a testament to his endurance and determination.

The ropes seemed to stretch endlessly, forming a labyrinth of movement that he navigated with an almost choreographed precision. The sight of him,
caught in this continuous cycle, was both breathtaking and disconcerting, as if he were part of a grand performance that defied the ordinary constraints of reality.
As she drew nearer,
her heart pounded with a mix of relief and anxiety, torn between the awe of his skill and the growing concern for his well-being.

She hurried to Andrew’s location, her footsteps quick and purposeful. As she drew closer,
she could hear the unmistakable sound of his voice, exuberant and lively. Andrew was clearly reveling in the moment, swinging rhythmically with a rope.
With each swing,
he seemed to lose himself more in the joy of the activity. “So nice... so sweet,” he called out with an almost breathless enthusiasm,
his voice rising and falling with the motion, filled with a palpable sense of delight and exhilaration.

"And so bitter,"
Cindi muttered with a mix of disdain and resolve as she grasped the knife firmly in her hand.
Her eyes narrowed with determination as she took aim, her movements precise and deliberate.
With a swift and practiced motion, she hurled the knife towards the rope. The blade sliced through the air with a deadly grace,
and in an instant,
the rope was severed, falling in two distinct halves. The tension that had held it in place was abruptly released,

and the rope dangled uselessly, testament to Cindi's skill and unyielding will.

As Andrew plummeted from the height, he landed squarely on his buttocks with a bone-jarring impact that sent a shockwave of pain through his entire body.

The sudden, forceful collision caused him to let out a drawn-out,
agonized wail that began as a high-pitched "uuuuuuuuuuuu" and slowly transformed into a long, resonant "wooooooooohhhhh!!!!" The sound echoed and reverberated,
amplifying his evident discomfort and stretching on endlessly,
lingering in the air long after the initial, harsh impact had faded.