Havok Publishing

The Jungle's Cry

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Viper’s Den

I’m sunning myself on a rock when I hear the shuffle of human feet rubbing against dirt. I swivel my head, and my tongue flickers in and out, detecting sweat, cinnamon, and the heady tang of the flowering bidya that Mamua planted just for me by the front of her hut.

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Tiger Bright

There’s a hunter in the jungle this morning. I know by the muddy paw prints, the cracked bamboo, the deep silence. No deer forage in the leaf litter, and monkeys huddle together in the trees.
Leaning against a trunk, I draw in a deep breath. My bones ache to shift,

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