She took a shaky breath, her hands fumbling as she reached into her bag. The camping knife felt cold and insubstantial in her grip, but it was all she had. She knelt down, scanning the ground for any signs of movement around the camp. It looked empty, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, warning her that danger was lurking, hidden just out of sight.
Amara took a deep, steadying breath, crouching low as she slipped past the first line of brush concealing the hideout. Every muscle was tensed, her heart hammering as she crept forward, each step calculated to avoid the dry, crackling leaves that threatened to betray her.