Night Watch Under the Ledge

Stretched my boots out across a bed of dry moss, restin' my back against the scooped hollow of a cool sandstone wall. The jungle after dark has a way of hummin' like a kicked hornet's nest, and without my usual flying getaway, a gal learns to appreciate a tight corner where nothin' can sneak up from behind. I pulled down a curtain of broad, hanging palm fronds to mask my little alcove from the open trail, wedgin' their fibrous stems firmly between two cracked rocks. Once that leafy screen was set, I laid my whittled wooden spear across my knees and let out a long breath. Not every night needs fireworks, sugar; sometimes keepin' quiet and keepin' watch is the best victory you get.