Sunday Night -- Chiriqui's Jungles

On long tanned legs Annja Creed ran through the hardwood forest. Rays from the sun hanging precariously above the great mountains slanted like pale gold lances at random between the boles. They caressed her sweaty face like velvet gloves as she ran through them.

Despite sweating in the heat, she breathed normally, dodging thicker stands of brush, crashing through the thinner ones. Late-season insects trilled around her and in sporadic spectral clouds tried to fly up her nose and into her mouth. The birds chattered and called to one another in the trees. The woods smelled of green growth and mostly dried decayed vegetation, not at all the way she imagined a true rain forest might smell, lower down in the Amazon basin proper. Up in the watershed of the Amazon's tributary the Río Marañón, in eastern Peru, the early autumn was drier and cooler, the growth far less denser Her heart raced as much as any person's might have after running at high speed for overtwo miles, up and down steep ridges. It had little to do with the exertion, though.

She ran for her life.



( There Were Many Reasons That Annja Wasn't Fond Of Mercernaries. These Were Several Of The Reasons. )

[[OOC: Shamelessly cribbed together from the beginning Rogue Angel Book #2, Solomon's Jar, by Alex Archer. This would have gone up last night I fell asleep earlier than normal. Part #3 of this chapter of her adventure will be going up in a few, as well.]]

Sunday Night -- Chiriqui's Jungles And Hopefully Back Again

Through gathering evening, Annja ran.

Not so much for fear of her own life. To her own surprise she felt little concern for that. Rather, for her mission. The thought that her mentor might have labored half a millennium to find the sword, and to find a new champion, only to have his labors made futile by such men as these made her blood boil.


( Sadly, Being Shot At Was Something She Would Have To Start Getting Used To )

Once she was safely down, she reached into her back pack to see if her cellphone was still working. Relieved that it was, she slipped into her pocket and started walking along the streambed until she could locate the road she had seen from up on the bridge. Once she got to the road and managed to get a lift with a farmer, they headed to the main town. Once the towers that meant phones would now work, Annja made first a call to Roux to tell him that there had been trouble with mercenaries at the village and that Don Felipe had been killed. After he assured her he would take care of the situation, she dialed another number. Once that call was done, Annja climbed out of the truck with her backpack. Heading for one of the places that had a bit of shade, she sat down, taking her first aid kit out of her bag. After she cleaned up her injuries as best as she could, she once more opened up her cellphone, dialing a number from heart.

When the voice on the other end answer, she let out a breath of relief. "Hey, Sean, It's Annja. I need a fast and safe ride home."






[[OOC: Shamelessly copied and then cribbed together from the first chapter of Rogue Angel Book #2, Solomon's Jar, by Alex Archer. This would have gone up last night I fell asleep earlier than normal.]]