Arena
You continue along the path. Remaining alert while focusing on another task has never been a problem for you, and in your days in the Amazon it was required in order to survive.
The fact that you aren't really doing anything aside from walking does more than a little to focus your attention.
Every thirty feet or so you hear the snap of a twig, the rustle of brush, or a footstep that falls more heavily than it was intended. But when you turn around, there is nothing to see.
Overhead the automated counter announces "120 contestants remain."
The competition is dwindling, you think to yourself. You wouldn't mind adding one more if you can figure out how the hell whoever the hell is following you.
You look to the horizon above the tree line. The sky is turning to a soft orange glow, and it will not be long before the sun sets.
The fact that you aren't really doing anything aside from walking does more than a little to focus your attention.
Every thirty feet or so you hear the snap of a twig, the rustle of brush, or a footstep that falls more heavily than it was intended. But when you turn around, there is nothing to see.
Overhead the automated counter announces "120 contestants remain."
The competition is dwindling, you think to yourself. You wouldn't mind adding one more if you can figure out how the hell whoever the hell is following you.
You look to the horizon above the tree line. The sky is turning to a soft orange glow, and it will not be long before the sun sets.