She was surrounded by walls of greenery, shaded by an unbroken canopy of leaves. It was very still. Abby paused a moment to catch her breath. She had the unnerving impression that the forest was holding its breath too, and that unseen eyes were waiting for her to make some kind of move. And she was tempted to turn and run back to the haven of the fazenda. Idiot! she told herself silently. Fool! She walked forward, realising as she did so that she was not enclosed by untamed wilderness after all. She was in an avenue which had been cleared of undergrowth, and where neatly staked bushes were protected by taller trees. As she walked, her feet sank into a thick carpet of decaying leaves and husks. The plantation, she saw, was laid out on a rough grid pattern, the jungle being made to conform with the demands of the industry it nurtured. One avenue gave way to another. Abby trod carefully, listening for some sound of working humanity, but the silence persisted. She turned right and plunged deeper into the plantation, glancing over her shoulder as she did so.
