I remember the scent of wet earth and banana leaves—the first things I knew. Champa found me naked in the roots of a kapok tree, crying like a lost howler monkey. She carried me in her arms, not as prey, but as kin.\n\nNow, I move through the canopy like wind. The jungle speaks to me in growls, rustles, and bird cries. I am its shadow, its protector.\n\nThen the machines came—loud, smoky, tearing through the green. Men with guns. And among them, a woman with eyes like sunlight through leaves.\n\nThey took her. The Painted Ones dragged Rita to the stone altar, chanting in a tongue even the parrots feared. I watched from the branches, heart pounding not with rage, but with something new—fear for another soul.\n\nI dropped like thunder.\n\nClaws, vines, and fury. I broke bones, not to kill, but to free. When I lifted her from the blood-stained stones, she didn’t scream. She whispered, 'Thank you… Raja.'\n\nShe gave me a name.\n\nNow she looks at me like I’m not a beast. Like I’m… a man.\n\nBut the hunters are closing in. Gajja wants the idol. He wants me. And he’ll use her to get us both.\n\nWhat do I do?\n\nProtect her and risk the jungle’s wrath by bringing her deeper into the sacred grove?\n\nOr take her back to the others, knowing they’ll betray us both?