Yes, he could hear the voices of the others as they clattered about among the trees, and nearby he could hear the general whirr and whisper of a thousand different creatures, of the trees and the earth itself. But within all of that there was still, somehow, a sense of peace and order.

It reminded him of the way he felt in his flying dream, of being connected to the world and to everything in it. That was how he felt here with the jungle breathing around him and through him. It was as if he’d always been meant to be here, as if a part of him had been here all along, waiting for the rest of him to catch up.

He drifted along a natural path and then noticed that ahead of him, a tree had fallen some time ago. He walked toward it, scanning the ground and the plants around him for snakes and spiders.

The tree lay across the path, but there were branches that had dried and were easy enough to break free. He snapped a few, dropping them back onto the path, quickly creating a decent pile of firewood. It was a satisfying exercise, except for the noise of the snapping branches, which seemed too alien, too destructive, against the natural wall of sound that surrounded him.

When he’d collected enough, he stopped and listened, the other voices distant now, as if he’d walked into another jungle and left all of them behind. He became acutely conscious of how alone he was, how far from everyone else.

And then, without warning, he became fearful, sensing that he was not alone here. No one from the crash was nearby, he knew that. But he also knew that someone else—or something else—was watching him, and he had walked too far from safety. Exactly the kind of carelessness he criticized the other kids for.

As hot and humid as it was, a shiver of cold ran through him. His fists clenched, the muscles in his legs tensing, ready to run, and he wanted to run but couldn’t, his feet planted. And he didn’t even know what the danger was, but there was something here, he could feel it.

He turned slowly to the right and flinched, almost jumped, seeing the shape of the figure above him on the fallen tree, feeling the danger even before he realized what it was, even before he met the piercing golden eyes that were locked on to him, full of a tense and tightly focused menace.

A part of his brain stubbornly identified it, a jaguar, even as his eyes started to water and his stomach clenched and he felt the sickening acceptance seep through him, that this was it, that it didn’t just happen to other people—his own luck had run out.