~EiraThe figures descended from the trees with a grace that made my skin crawl. Cloaked in ragged fabric the color of dried blood, faces obscured behind carved wooden masks, they moved like whispers in wind. Silent. Cautious. Deadly.They circled us where we hung, tangled in netting strung between the high boughs like meat in a butcher’s window. Spears glinted in their hands, crude but effective, aimed straight at us.“I don’t like this,” Ryan muttered beside me, his legs twisted awkwardly in the net.“No kidding,” I said, squinting at the masked figure closest to me.Before he could respond, a shrill whistle split the air.A blur of motion—a curved blade, a boomerang of some kind—sliced cleanly through the rope anchoring us to the branches.We dropped like stones.The thud of our bodies hitting the forest floor knocked the air from my lungs. My spine protested, and I groaned as I rolled onto my side, still tangled in netting.The figures closed in, grabbing the edges of the net and
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