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Turning to Talan, I asked:
“So, is there anything you can do with these weapons?”
His smile, full of confidence and hope, was all the answer I needed.
Talan
It was a truth, universally acknowledged, that my people were hunters by nature.
But I was also wise enough to recognize brilliance when it stood beside me, her hands smudged with the earth of an alien platform.
Riley was a beacon of hope, her relentless spirit a guide in our increasingly challenging situation.
While my mind drew a blank, haunted by memories of Krexar’s formidable reputation, she held the solution.
She was, in many ways, the perfect complement to my own instincts — where she saw possibility, I saw execution; where she envisioned an idea, I could bring it to life.
She wasn’t sure what to do with the weapons we had salvaged, but I did.
Her vision combined with my knowledge of our shared opponent, his strengths, his weaknesses, and most importantly, the lethal prowess of our own species.
We ventured deep into the jungle, using its resources to our advantage.
Drawing on old hunting techniques and tricks from our previous rounds on this platform, we went to work.
There was a synchronized rhythm to our actions: Riley proposing an idea, me implementing it.
Traps were fashioned, triggers set, pitfalls hidden beneath the lush underbrush.
Vines became snares, fruits became bait, and even the mud beneath our feet played a role in our arsenal.
Krexar was a master hunter, his name whispered with a mix of reverence and fear among our kind.
But I had faith.
The sheer volume and variety of traps we set up were astounding, surely enough to give even Krexar pause.
I imagined him, formidable and cunning, yet caught in a trap, and the thought bolstered my confidence.
Amid our preparations, the dense jungle around us provided more than just tools — it offered concealment and, if used correctly, became a weapon itself.
Gigantic leaves were transformed into slide traps, thorny bushes concealed tripwires, and the sounds of the forest were used as distractions.
The environment was as much a participant in our plan as the weapons we held.
Hours flew by, the sun’s journey across the sky marking our progress.
As the last light started to fade, we stepped back to take in the labyrinth of dangers we’d created.
The once familiar jungle now felt alien, each step potentially fatal.
It was a hunter’s playground, and we were ready for the game.
Wrapping an arm around Riley, I pulled her close, her warmth a comforting contrast to the coolness of the approaching night. “Are you ready?” I whispered, my voice barely audible against the backdrop of the jungle.
She met my gaze, determination evident in her eyes. “I was born ready,” she said with a fierce grin.
Born ready?
