Had I been sober, I doubt I would’ve been able to fall asleep. It was so hot in the tent it was hard to breathe. But the temperature wasn’t the worst of it. Unlike the city where I could depend on the noise diminishing to a dull roar once the sun went down, the jungle came alive at night, screeching at increasingly louder volumes. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I knew what was making the noise, but the unknown factor lifted the sounds from annoying to terrifying. For a while the four of us lay in the dark trying to match each cry with its maker,. Although we could easily identify the more commonplace animals, there were many we city folk hadn’t heard before. I pictured cheetahs, snakes, and magical, mythical creatures surrounding our tent waiting for just the right opportunity to launch their attack. If nature could make my heart pitter-patter with fear, I could only imagine what seeing the enemy would do. Of course the noise wasn’t restricted to the outdoors. Inside, we heard shuffling that suggested our rodent friend had returned for a visit.
