The first group of hunters, those out looking for food, left the village long before the second group. Their footsteps were silent and steady; the soles of their shoes were built up like foot-high platforms of broken branches and dead vines.
They were the only thing to mask their footstep, the only thing that kept Death from figuring out that they were prey and not plants. But even with every precaution they took, they still knew that the jungle was waiting for them to mess up again.
After all, it had taken a lot of trial and error before even these shoes had been created.
It was barely morning, the sun still hidden behind the tallest trees, but the humidity was already so bad that it threatened to take the very breath from their lungs. The team of six melted into the jungle, not even their breathing giving away their location.
