16-Dawn

The first hints of dawn bled into the jungle canopy in shades of pale amber and soft green, seeping between wide leaves and tangled vines. Birds began their morning chorus in sputtered, unsure notes, their voices trembling into full song as the light gathered strength. The jungle was alive again, louder now, but still holding onto a strange, brittle edge. The air smelled wet—ferns and soil, old bark and stagnant water—and the chill of morning clung to their skin, seeping through their clothes.

Sophia hadn’t slept. Not really. She’d tried—after the thing had vanished—but her thoughts chased its silhouette in endless loops. Her fingers still itched from gripping the paracord so tightly. Now she lay still in her hammock, watching the sky change color through the leaves above, breath shallow, chest tight.

Around her, the others began to stir.

Ren shifted in her harness first, cracking her neck and muttering under her breath. Franz rolled over with a groan that sounded more like a growl. Emma sat up, hair flat on one side, stretching one arm over her head. The rustling grew, hammocks swaying slightly as they unhooked gear and shrugged into vests and packs.

On the far side of the canopy cluster, Helena was already awake. She had been on the last shift of the night—alert and quiet, perched on a sturdy branch with her rifle resting across her lap. She hadn’t seen Sophia lying awake nearby. As the forest brightened around her, she began coiling the paracord, her face grim.

Sophia took a breath and finally sat up, letting her legs dangle for a second before swinging them over the hammock's edge. Her knees cracked. She winced.

"Morning," Ren grunted, brushing dried leaves from her arm. "Sleep like shit?"

"Didn’t sleep," Sophia muttered. She turned, voice low. "I saw something last night. During my shift. I didn’t want to wake you guys then, but... it was bad."

That caught everyone’s attention.

Emma stopped mid-stretch. Franz froze, one boot half-laced. Helena looked up sharply from where she was coiling rope, expression unreadable.

"Go on," Ren said.

Sophia swallowed, the image still fresh. "I spotted a predator. Big. Eight meters long at least. Moved between the trees like it owned the place. Long arms, big claws, feathered—like a megaraptorid. But bigger. Too big."

Helena frowned, already thinking.

"It saw me. Looked straight at me. I didn’t move. It didn’t come any closer. Just... turned and left."

The team was silent.

Emma finally exhaled. "Could’ve been an illusion. Shadows play tricks."

Sophia shook her head. "It was real. Moonlight hit it, I saw the feathers. It was close, Emma."

Ren tightened a strap on her vest. "Alright. We don’t take chances. Next night watch is in pairs."

"We’re lucky the branches we picked were so high," Franz muttered. "If that thing wanted up here, it couldn’t have made it."

Ren finished securing her coil of rope. "That high means we’ll be climbing longer. Let’s get moving."

The group broke down camp in efficient silence. Hammocks were folded, gear strapped to packs, weapons double-checked. Each of them had their standard-issue rifle within easy reach, holstered at their side or slung across their chest.

Rappelling down the ceiba tree took time. The bark was smooth in places, and the lowest sturdy branch was at least 5 meters up. Ren went first, disappearing below the foliage in controlled movements. Emma followed, then Franz. Sophia was slower, hesitant to leave the height that had kept them safe.

Helena went last. As she neared the jungle floor, her boot landed just beside a strange indentation in the loamy earth. She crouched immediately, brows knitting together.

"Emma," she called quietly. "Over here."

Emma had only just unclipped from her rope. She stepped over and squatted beside Helena, who was already brushing leaves aside.

Three elongated, talon-like impressions lay sunken into the soft mud. The soil was slightly disturbed around them, and though time and wind had smudged the outline, the size and spacing were still clear.

"Prints," Helena said, voice low. "Bipedal. Look at the claw depth. These are fresh. Overnight."

Sophia stepped closer, eyes wide. She pointed. "That’s where I saw it. Right there."

Franz crouched too. "That’s massive. What, forty centimeters?"

Helena’s fingers hovered above the print. She spoke softly but with certainty. "Maip. Maip macrothorax."

Emma’s brow furrowed. "Seriously? You think a Maip made this?"

"It fits. Big megaraptorid, feathered, elongated arms. It matches the prints exactly."

Emma rubbed her jaw. "I’ve seen Maip reconstructions. They don’t usually range this far north."

Helena gave her a sideways glance. "That doesn’t mean it isn’t one."

Emma stood, brushing dirt from her knees. "Could just as easily be a misidentified Aerosteon. Or something similar. Conditions are messy."

Helena’s jaw clenched.

Franz looked between them but didn’t say anything. He stepped back and adjusted his pack.

Sophia glanced at Helena, then Emma. She opened her mouth—then closed it again.

Emma turned toward the rest of the group. "Let’s keep moving. We don’t linger here."

Helena didn’t argue. She didn’t say anything at all. But as she straightened and shouldered her pack, her knuckles were white around the grip of her rifle. She hated being dismissed. Especially when she was right.

They moved west through the underbrush, staying off open trails. The terrain was uneven—roots knotted like old scars, damp earth giving underfoot. Vines tugged at their ankles and bugs buzzed constantly around their faces. The air felt thicker now, heavier with tension, laced with the musky odor of rotting leaves and distant rain. Every breath tasted like soil.

They followed the still-overflowed river, its currents fast and foamy from the recent storm. The muddy water rushed beside them, eating at the riverbanks and swallowing branches. Eventually, they reached a fallen tree, thick and long, bridging both sides of the river.

"That’s our crossing," Emma said, tightening her straps.

Sophia slung the paracord over her shoulder and nodded. "Looks stable enough."

"Still wet," Ren noted. "Be careful."

Emma crossed first, arms out slightly to balance herself. The trunk bowed but held. Sophia followed close behind, boots slipping once before she caught herself. They made it across.

Helena and Franz followed. Helena’s eyes darted downstream, then back to the canopy, tension still thick in her shoulders. Franz moved steadily behind her.

Ren was about to step onto the trunk when a rustle sounded in the bushes behind her. She stopped.

Leaves shook again.

She turned sharply, rifle up.

A Utharaptor stood five meters from her.

Time froze. Ren didn’t breathe. Her finger hovered near the trigger.

A second raptor burst from the trail behind her.

Across the river, the team shouted—but the roar of the current drowned them out. Emma’s hands were trembling too much to line up a shot. Sophia stood frozen. Helena and Franz fired—but their shots missed, cracking through branches behind the creature.

It ran full tilt, claws bared.

Ren stood frozen in place, wide-eyed, unable to move, her breath caught in her throat. Terror locked every muscle. She wasn’t thinking, wasn’t reacting. Just watching death stare at her.

A scream built in her throat but never left. Her vision narrowed. Her limbs refused to obey. Somewhere in her chest, her heart slammed against her ribs, wild and useless.

And then—a mechanical roar. The whine of an engine.

An ATV exploded through the foliage, smashing straight into the ambushing raptor.

Ren’s eyes widened as both the vehicle and the predator toppled into the water.

Adán.

The distraction snapped her out of it.

Ren fired.

The remaining Utharaptor shrieked and collapsed.

Across the river, the team watched, stunned. Emma’s mouth hung open. Franz had taken two steps forward, frozen. Sophia’s face was pale.

"Adán’s alive," Helena breathed.

She didn’t hesitate.

While the others stood shocked, Helena launched across the tree trunk, boots slipping once as her weight shifted, but she recovered, running full speed. Her heart hammered in her chest, blood rushing in her ears.

The bark beneath her boots was slick with rain and moss. She skidded once, nearly losing balance—but she pushed forward.

"Move, Sophia! Give me the rope!"

Sophia, still clutching the paracord, stood paralyzed. Her eyes locked on the water, where Adán was being dragged downstream by the current, his fingers barely gripping the trunk.

"Sophia!" Helena barked.

She snatched the rope off Sophia’s shoulder and sprinted down the bank.

"Adán! Grab it!" she shouted, her voice slicing through the roar of the river.

She flung the rope. It whipped over the water—then caught. Adán's hand, slick with mud and blood, latched on.

"I’ve got you! Hold on! Merda!" Helena cried, digging her boots into the ground, bracing herself.

The others rushed in, grabbing the rope behind Helena.

Ren reached them moments later and joined, forming a line, pulling together, slowly reeling him back.

Adán gasped, water pouring from his mouth, but he held firm. Inch by inch, they dragged him up the bank, until finally, his hands hit soil.

Helena collapsed beside him.

"Are you insane?!" she shouted, shaking him by the shoulders. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Adán coughed again, then gave a weak grin. "I wasn't thinking."

"You smell like shit," Helena muttered, but her voice cracked. "I thought you were dead."

"Not yet," he rasped.

Ren dropped to her knees beside them, chest heaving. She looked at Adán, then back to the dead raptor across the water.

"Lo que hiciste fue una menuda estupidéz," she said, trembling slightly. Her voice was thick, too close to tears. "Pero... gracias. me paralicé. No pude... No pude..."

She buried her face in her hands, then pushed them away, angry at herself. "Joder, me paralicé..."

She stood abruptly and stepped away, wiping at her face with her sleeve, trying to breathe.

Adán looked at her, a genuine smile on his face. "Cuando quieras."

Sophia hovered nearby, eyes glassy, frustrated. Emma crouched, checking his wounds. Franz watched from a distance, silent.

Helena still hadn’t let go of his hand.

"No more disappearing," she said firmly.

Adán blinked up at her. "No promises."

Then he passed out.

—

Minutes passed in tense silence, the jungle surrounding their temporary camp as thick and oppressive as ever. Adán lay still on a patch of damp moss, his chest rising and falling in shallow, labored breaths. His injuries weren’t life-threatening—just bruises, cuts, and the gash to his side that Emma was carefully tending to—but he was exhausted, his body too worn to keep fighting for now.

Franz was the one who carried him, his muscles straining under the weight but not faltering. The others followed closely, weapons drawn, eyes scanning the shadows beneath the towering trees. Once they reached a small clearing that could pass for safety—at least for the moment—they set up a rough camp.

Franz lowered Adán onto the ground, resting his head against a bundle of soft leaves. The team worked quickly, establishing a perimeter, but their movements were stiff, charged with a tension that hadn't been there before.

Emma knelt beside Adán, pressing a clean cloth against the wound on his side. Her fingers trembled as she worked, her brow furrowed in concentration. But inside, her mind was elsewhere. The image of the raptor's teeth snapping so close, the animal’s eyes boring into hers—it kept replaying in her head, over and over. The feeling of helplessness. The tightness in her chest.

She hadn’t been able to pull the trigger. Her hands had been shaking too badly, too frozen in that moment. She should have shot. She should’ve—

"Emma."

Sophia’s voice sliced through the haze of her thoughts. She looked up to see her standing nearby, watching her carefully. There was an unreadable look in Sophia’s eyes, one Emma couldn’t quite place. "What?"

Sophia shifted on her feet, arms crossed. "You okay?"

Emma nodded, offering a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Just... focused."

But Sophia wasn’t convinced. "You froze back there."

The words hit Emma like a slap, and her stomach churned. She opened her mouth to respond, but her voice faltered, caught between the shame of the moment and the overwhelming exhaustion. Before she could say anything, Helena’s voice, sharp as a whip, cut through the air.

"You froze, Sophia?" Helena’s words were clipped, furious. "What the hell are you talking about? You stood there too, didn’t you?"

Sophia turned toward Helena, her posture stiffening. "I—I’m just trying to—"

"No," Helena snapped, stepping forward. "You didn’t try. You did nothing." She was glaring at Sophia now, her jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack. "You let Adán nearly die, you couldn't even toss me the rope. And now you're standing here telling others that they froze?"

Sophia’s eyes widened, the weight of Helena’s words hitting her like a punch to the gut. She opened her mouth to argue, but the words didn’t come.

Helena didn’t let up. "How about you stop pointing out mistakes others make and start actually doing something useful? Instead of standing around judging everyone else, try pulling your own weight for once."

Ren took a few quick steps forward, her hand reaching out to Helena’s shoulder, trying to pull her back. "Helena, that’s enough."

But Helena wasn’t done. "I’m not done. Not until she understands that we don’t have the luxury of this. This isn’t a fucking game, Sophia! People are going to die if we can’t keep it together."

Sophia was visibly shaking, her lips parted as if she wanted to defend herself, but she couldn’t find the strength. The humiliation was overwhelming.

Emma shifted uncomfortably, caught between the anger in Helena’s voice and the guilt still gripping her own chest. She’d frozen too, hadn’t she? Her hands still remembered the cold steel of her gun, the weight of it in her palms—but she couldn’t pull the trigger. She had frozen.

But this wasn’t about her, was it?

Sophia’s voice was small, defeated. "I didn’t mean to... I—I don’t know what happened, okay? I just froze."

Helena’s eyes burned with frustration. She took a step toward Sophia, her voice low and biting. "It’s not about what happened, it’s about what didn't happen. You could’ve done something. Anything. But you didn’t."

Sophia’s face reddened, her throat tight with emotion she wasn’t prepared to face. She had no defense, no excuse to offer. The shame of not acting—of not being the person she thought she was—made her want to curl up and disappear into the jungle.

Ren placed a hand on Helena’s arm, this time more firmly, pulling her back a step. "Helena," she said, quieter this time but no less forceful. "She knows. She knows, alright? We all know. But right now, we need to focus. You’ve made your point."

The words felt like a final blow, a slap of reality. Helena’s eyes flickered between Ren and Sophia, her breathing ragged. She finally took a deep breath and stepped back, her anger still simmering but restrained.

Sophia swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears she didn’t want to shed. She nodded once, slowly, her voice small and barely audible. "I’ll do better. I’ll... I’ll make sure I do better."

Helena said nothing more, her eyes cold as she turned away, scanning the surroundings, as if she could block out the moment entirely.

Emma, still kneeling next to Adán, felt the weight of the silence in the air, the words unspoken that still lingered between them all.

Beside her, Adán stirred.

His eyes blinked open slowly, dazed and unfocused at first. He winced as the pain returned, dull but steady. Then his hand twitched, reaching for his side instinctively. "...Did you get it out?" he muttered, voice dry and rasped.

Then he sat up, despite the stiffness and Emma's quiet protest. His eyes immediately began searching the ground, scanning until they landed on a familiar shape just within arm's reach.

The battery.

He reached for it, but Franz was already a step ahead, nudging the large, mud-caked unit closer to him.

"Yeah. We got it," Franz said. "Battery’s right here."

Adán gave a slow nod, his fingers brushing the dented metal. "Good... still got power. We’ll need it."

Emma placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "You shouldn’t talk yet. Just rest."

But Adán’s attention was already fixed on the jungle beyond. Even through the pain, his mind was running again—working the problem, calculating.

"We’re not safe here," he said, barely above a whisper. "Not for long."

No one argued with that.