Pantha girl's Arc

Chapter 3 of 7

Marina woke before dawn with the mark still warm on her shoulder. The temple-sense pulled at her like a thread hooked behind her ribs. The stolen relic was out there. She could feel its direction, a cold tug toward the deep jungle. But the feeling stayed faint, a scent carried on shifting wind. Each time she fixed on it, the thread slipped. She had chased it for two nights and found only empty clearings. She climbed down from the temple stairs and followed the pull. Her boots found the game trails without thought. When a fallen tree blocked her path, she cleared it in one clean leap, landing low and silent. The brand had changed her body as well as her mind. She moved like something the jungle had made. The tug grew stronger near a ravine choked with vines. Marina crouched in the ferns. Her vision sharpened. Night turned clear as noon, every leaf edged in silver. She saw the relic's direction at last, close now, just past the ridge. Then the thread went dark. Something had stepped between her and it. She tasted it before she heard it. Danger, moving fast. "They're coming," she whispered. "The soldiers." Boots crushed the undergrowth below. A man climbed into view, huge, bald, wrapped in black armor. A yellow cobra marked his chest. He carried a long black rifle and a canister pack that hissed green vapor. This was one of Madame Viper's soldiers, and the hiss told Marina the cult feared the jungle enough to arm its men with venom. He stopped at the ravine's lip and lifted a small device. It pulsed, and Marina's temple-sense screamed. She understood then why the trail stayed faint. The relic was near, but the soldier's device fogged it, scattering the signal like oil on water. He was carrying a jammer, hunting the same thing she hunted, masking its pull as he went. Marina uncoiled her whip. She dropped from the ferns and snapped it around his wrist before he turned. The device fell. She yanked, pulling him off balance, then drove her shoulder into his gut. He crashed down. The canister cracked. Green gas hissed into the dirt. "Spirit-beast," he growled through the fumes. He swung the rifle. Marina rolled clear, grabbed the fallen device, and crushed it under her heel. The pulse died. The thread snapped tight at once. Clear, sharp, unmistakable. The relic lay just over the ridge, in Madame Viper's camp. She had its exact place now, burned into her mind. The soldier found his feet, shouting. More lights flared below. His voice carried, and others answered. They knew where she stood now. Marina turned and ran for the ridge. She had her target. But Viktor Strand had seen her face, and the whole camp was waking between her and the stolen relic.