Dan had begun coming to watch the village often. He needed to find a way to make contact with those who saw him as a threat. Maybe, if he was careful enough, a plan would form on its own.

  He lay on his stomach in the tall grass of a hillside, hidden by the shade of a wide tree. Below, in the hollow between sparse acacias, the camp stretched out. It was midday and the place felt slow and heavy. Children played near the stream. The elders sat in the shade. Someone was mending a net, someone else sharpening a flint blade. Dan had been watching for days, learning the rhythm of their lives, tracing an invisible map of their habits.

  A movement on the edge of the clearing caught his eye. At the far side of the forest, higher up the slope, a lone figure moved among the tall grass. A young woman. She carried a woven basket and stopped at every bush, bending to gather leaves or roots. Dan raised himself on his elbows, watching more closely.

  She was slender, graceful, her posture strikingly straight. Her skin had a warm bronze glow under the sun. Thick dark hair was tied loosely at the back of her neck. Her movements were calm and assured, without haste or fear. The way she bent toward the plants, lifted something to her face, smelled it carefully—there was focus in every gesture, a quiet strength. No vanity. No pretense.

  When she turned slightly, he saw her face for the first time. High cheekbones, a straight nose, dark eyes alive with light, and for a second he thought he saw a faint smile. She didn’t speak, but there was music in her presence—steady, alive, human. And in that moment, Dan realized this tribe was not just something to study. He could be part of this world.

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  He didn’t know her name yet, but he already knew she was not just another villager. Later he would learn she was the chief’s daughter. But even before that, she had already marked something inside him.

  The next day he returned to the same hill. The woman was there again, collecting herbs in the clearing. Maybe that was the real reason he chose this spot today. She moved through the grass with the same lightness, knowing what to take and what to leave untouched.

  Then she stopped. Her head turned slightly. Something had alerted her. A breath of wind rippled through the grass, then everything went still. She turned sharply and froze.

  A leopard. Young, but strong. It crouched low, muscles tense, just a few dozen paces away. For an instant, she didn’t move, caught in pure instinct. Then she ran.

  Dan already had the bow in his hands, but the distance was too great for a quick shot. He couldn’t afford to miss.

  The girl stumbled through the grass, desperate to reach the trees. The leopard leapt, its body stretched like an arrow in flight. It was almost on her—too close now.

  Dan rose to one knee. The arrow was already nocked. A deep breath. One short, perfect moment. Then the string snapped forward.

  The arrow cut the air and struck the leopard in the shoulder, throwing it off balance. The animal crashed to the ground, twisting, hissing, thrashing in pain. The second arrow ended it cleanly.

  The girl stood there, two steps from death, frozen in disbelief. Slowly she turned and saw him. A tall, strange man with a bow, motionless and silent. Their eyes met.

  In hers he saw terror, confusion, and the spark of a question. Who was he? Where had he come from? A savior? A spirit?

  She turned and ran, leaving the basket where it fell. Vanished into the direction of the village.

  Dan stayed where he was, gripping the bow, watching her disappear through the grass, feeling the blood pounding in his ears.