The jungle envelopes him, claws at him. He doesn't know where he's going anymore. There is no sense of direction. There is - nothing at all except the sound of the twigs snapping under his feet and the rustling as his trail heals itself behind him. Even the sound of the ocean has become lost in the past.
He runs, as well as he can through the thick brush. Something is following him, some thing has been following him since he left the beach. And it's gaining on him.
