THE MACHETE: floats through the air above me, spinning slowly, the rusty blade catching the sunlight. I slowly reach out my hand, close my eyes. The hilt lands in my palm with a gentle thwack.
Behind me, Danielle is throwing herself into a patch of undergrowth, her machete flying, to see how much destruction she can wreak in ten seconds. Erin is seeing how far she can drive her machete into a fence post. Phil is crouched on the ground, rocking back and forth.
"I don't want to be here," he groans. "I don't want to be here."
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those bites and blisters look nasty.
breadboi2067 1 month ago