PREVIEW
... assive maw snapping shut on eleven tense bodies. As we advanced, the trees grew darker, more gnarled, and the very air seemed to cling to our skin. It wasn't just humidity. There was a living heat in this dampness, almost intimate, as if the underbrush was breathing in slow pulses.
Beneath our boots, the disjointed stone slabs gave way to a path gnawed by moss, roots, and seepage. Everything seemed older here. Stickier. I recognized certain reliefs, certain traces of architecture buried ...
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