As she and Solomon made their way through the dense undergrowth, Isabella's breath came in short spurts. They were protected from their attackers by the dense vegetation of the African bush, which also acted as a trap, making every step dangerous. The ground was slippery due to the mud, and the air was so moist that it seemed like you were breathing through damp linen.
After hours of nonstop running, the weak light coming through the canopy at the crack of dawn showed how completely disoriented they were. But it was death if you stopped. They were relentlessly pursued by mercenaries who were motivated by a savagery that went beyond simple greed. Their quest had a personal component, one that tormented Isabella as she attempted to understand the tenacity of their adversaries.
Solomon whispered, "Isabella," bringing her back to the here and now. He had discovered a tiny clearing protected by prickly bushes and thick vines. "We must take a break. Only for a second.
Isabella faltered, her
