The irridescent feathers of a predatory bird were jammed carelessly between the jaws of a large crepuscular cat. It had managed to catch the poor avian when the damned sound of a mans scream had spooked the flock. Between lofty leaves and tangling vines, it could almost see the red-haired woman attempting her best to break her hand on the poor bastards bloodied face. 

 Her jabs at this point were fatiqued and ineffective, and she could barely keep herself upright in the sitting position on his chest. Whoever the man was, dressed in leather regalia with a moleskin cape, he was almost certainly dead. If he wasn't, nature had a habit of consuming and reusing the dead. She was almost certain she'd seen some form of Jaguar nearby. 

Lifting herself from whatever the name of the bloodied pulp below her was, she reached into her cloak and removed a folded map. The sun, as much of it as she could see from the lower canopy, seemed to have moved forward at least three hours. There would be many stragglers at this point and she had at least a few moments before she'd need to meet again with the others. It was foolhardy to be alone at night in these woods, many of the preternatural forces and nocturnal wildlife were far more active at that time. Dusk wasn't nearly as deadly, but certainly not safe.

 It was hard to tell in the murky brown waters of the lake whether her face had any blood of it. It was almost certain, so she washed her face off anyway. It was a small comfort as the mosquito's wouldn't leave even if you asked politely. She drank from the water, refilled her flask, and walked off from the mushy sedge of the shore. When she had returned the mans body was gone, from the looks of it he was dragged into some brush nearby. He was either bleeding out and dragging himself off, or the Jaguar had found him. 

 She walked along the trail of blood and crushed foliage. Eventually, in a few minutes time, it led to the man slumped against a tree, an arrow pinned through his chest. Looking up, Jovalyn saw her brother, Rodrick, who hailed her with a simple wave. He had wavy red hair and thin stubble, with ghastly pale skin. Through a series of complex maneuvers and flips, he found himself on the ground floor. He was quite the acrobat, though Jovalyn herself found it far too impractical for her tastes.

Rodrick grinned and gestured to the corpse, “Found this bleeder trying to make his way back to wherever he came from. Looked like someone had bludgeoned him.” This reminded Jovalyn that her hand still hurt. “Anyway” Rodrick continued. “How'd your hunt go?”

 Jovalyn looked at the body, then back at Rodrick and said, “Not badly.”