Page 9 of Sohut's Protection

Behind her, she heard a loud cry that sounded suspiciously like one of the aliens being attacked by something fierce.

There was a rustle of bushes, but she wasn’t looking back and she was stopping for nothing.

And so she ran.

She ran as fast as her weak legs could take her.

She didn’t stop when branches ripped into her dress or when she stumbled over roots and fell.

She kept going.

Deeper into the jungle she went, as far away from the alien captors as she could reach. And when her lungs and her legs couldn’t take it anymore, she stumbled, falling against the thick trunk of a tree.

Sliding down against the tree, Cleo leaned her back against it and sat on the ground.

It didn’t sound like he was pursuing her.

She must have lost him.

That thought brought a feeling of relief and hanging right on to the tail end of it was a surge of fear.

Now what?

What’s the next stage of the plan, Cleo?

Problem was, there was no plan.

She’d half expected her effort to free herself from the cage to fail.

Chest heaving as she took deep breaths, she tried breathing through her nose slowly and evenly so she could focus on listening.

At the back of her mind, there was the pressing thought that night was approaching.

She needed to find shelter.

Y-shaped branches, Cleo. Her father’s voice rang true.

If she could find some branches of that type, she’d be able to create some kind of shelter on the ground.

As she began searching for the branches, she froze.

She could feel it—it was an unmistakable feeling, a sort of sixth sense—the knowledge that something was watching her.

That sixth sense had served her well for twenty-five years; she wasn’t going to question it now.

As the hairs at the back of her neck stood on end, Cleo spun around slowly, the piece of metal she still gripped pointing outward.

Her eyes scanned the orange bushes, looking for a spot of green that would tell her the green alien had crept up on her without her hearing.

But there was none.

Nevertheless, the bushes moved a little and it wasn’t because of the wind.

There was something there.

As the bushes rustled some more, Cleo took a step backward, fear crawling up her back.

A bunch of hanging leaves moved and a head popped out.

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