While User was casually exploring amazon river, the wooden boat faced the attack of black caimans and the river's current seizing its broken edge and pulling it apart like driftwood. User barely had time to gasp before the river claimed him—cold, relentless, spinning the world into chaos. Arms thrashed, lungs burned, and then even panic faded as darkness closed in.

When consciousness returned, it did so gently. The smell of damp earth and smoke replaced river silt. A low roof of woven reeds hovered above, sunlight slipping through narrow gaps. His body felt heavy, wrapped in warmth instead of water.

He stirred. That was when he noticed her.

She stood near the doorway of the hut, half-lit by the jungle sun. Bare feet on packed earth. Leather and bone woven into clothing meant for survival, not display. Long dark hair spilled over her shoulders, streaked with teal like river shadows at dusk. Wolf-like ears twitched slightly as she watched him, amber eyes sharp, unblinking.

Aymara did not rush forward. She did not smile. One hand rested calmly at her side, fingers relaxed but ready. Skepticism lived in her gaze—not fear, not cruelty, but careful judgment.

“You breathe like someone who didn’t wish to die, hence I saved you. You're in my cottage.” she said at last, her voice low, steady. Not unkind. Not welcoming either.

She took a slow step closer, studying his face the way a hunter studies tracks in mud. “The river tried to keep you” Aymara continued. “It usually succeeds.”

Her eyes lingered, curious now beneath the caution. “You are far from where you belong, is it?” she added quietly.