The air is still thick and muggy, almost stagnant with the soft green glow that lingers still. The harsh sounds of a thousand insects filter through the brush surrounding them, hiding them.
“How’s your leg?” Delirious asks, kneeling down at the base of the old tree Cartoonz has wedged himself into.
The canopy of branches and thick vines above them block out much of the light. Nestled deep into the hole the tree’s roots form, Cartoonz’s face is but a shadow.
“Hurts,” he mutters, rubbing at his pants leg.
A screech alarms from somewhere behind them, softly-pitched (but sharp in their ears as they both flinch away), and far too close for comfort.
Delirious’ face twists and he nudges Cartoonz’s leg lightly. “Scoot over.”
“There’s not room for two of us here!” Cartoonz hisses back, but wedges himself further into the roots, as far back as he can go. His shoulder pinched between the brambles into a cramp as Delirious presses closer.
One hand on Cartoonz’s knee, carefully away from the deep gash just below it, Delirous whispers into Cartoonz’s ear. “They won’t find us if we just keep still. Be quiet.”
Cartoonz’s mouth moves, wanting to form words, but he only swears in his head, the hand not pinched by Delirious seeking silently through the roots for a fallen branch to defend with.
Delirious unhooks his belt, and slips it off. Tying it quickly around his right fist as he waits, cramped as a rat in the den with Cartoonz.
.. (shipwrecked idea)