Jara at the Falls

“Just swing across! You have to hurry!” Koji, Jara's brother, was shouting from across the ravine, barely visible among the trees on the other side. Rain was pouring down in sheets from a green-gray sky. Jara held her grip, white-knuckled, on the vine he had swung across to her. Even though she could hear the troops moving up from behind, she couldn't move.

“It's too far!” Jara cried. “It'll break!” If Henli's troops caught her, her fate would be worse than falling down the falls into the ravine. Her head knew that. Her base instincts just knew that the ground was a very, very long way below.

“The vine is gajori!” Koji said. “It could hold up an elephant! Now swing! Come on! I can almost see the scouts behind you!” It looked like Koji was pacing, the shrubs swaying back and forth. The view was quickly growing more opaque as the rain thickened and the sun faded into the mountains.

Jara sobbed, staring down into the ravine, then glancing behind, then back. She had never felt more trapped. She who had faced down tigers with her tribe. She who had never bowed to fear in the battles and hunts all her life. The rough walls of the ravine, slick with rain and the cascading waterfalls, had finally presented Jara with her match.

“Jara, please!” Koji shouted.

A hand grabbed at Jara's legs, rough with chain and metal. Gasping, Jara kicked back, looking down to see one of Henli's men climbing up below her. She barely had time to think before she stumbled, falling back from the branch and over the ravine.

Her grip still tight, she swung out over the falls.