There is a thin, wafting fog streaming through the trees, briefly settling on the path in front of me then drifting off again. The large, heavy leaves hang off the trees in the same way that the thick droplets of moisture hang off their stems. Occasionally one jumps off, hurtling itself down to a small puddle to join its fallen comrades.
I encroach upon the dimly lit path slowly, stepping into the puddle and watching the displaced water rush to cover my foot, a vain attempt to recover it's territory. The water always wins, and I'm distracted: as uncomfortable as it is, the water is not my enemy.
The creatures are out there, or at least, supposed to be. I picture a cat standing at attention, sharp eyes straight forward and ears rotating to home in on the slightest noise coming from the bush. My ears aren't built like that and my eyes play tricks on me; prancing shadows appear and disappear quickly, all of them illusions.