One of the poachers snapped to attention, his boots crunching as he turned. “Did you hear that?” he muttered, his tone edged with suspicion. The other man, who’d been half-drifting off in the afternoon heat, grunted, pulling himself upright.
“Go check it out,” he said, his voice laced with irritation. The first poacher rolled his eyes but moved toward the sound, giving Amara the opening she needed. As he walked away, she pressed her back against the tree and slipped into a shadowy section near the base of a thick, sprawling bush.