Hannah Dundee: Survival in a World of Giants by Jade Gretz

https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai/art/Hannah-Dundee-Survival-in-a-World-of-Giants-1273172879

Hannah Dundee: Survival in a World of Giants ANIM

The Orchid That Dreamed of Thunder

Hannah Dundee had never believed the map was real. She found it rolled inside a weather-beaten journal, tucked beneath the seat of a broken sky-rover near the caravan trails. The journal described a valley sealed by mist and time, a forgotten tangle of primeval trees and shimmering orchids unlike any bloom recorded by scientific guilds. Rumors said the place was haunted by a creature older than the world’s renewed jungles—older even than the Great Reawakening that had returned thunder-lizards to the earth.

“Forbidden territory,” Hannah murmured as she traced the sketch of a waterfall whose spray was drawn in careful blue ink. “Which means there’s something worth discovering.”

Jack Tenrec had warned her, of course—he always did. “Hannah,” he had said that morning, tightening straps on his battered leather coat, “unmapped places are unmapped for a reason. They bite.”

She’d smiled at the memory. “Everything bites, Jack. But some places only pretend to bite until somebody curious wanders close. And that’s usually me.”

Now, a day’s ride from civilization, Hannah’s Cadillac convertible sat at the edge of a dense tropical forest, purple storm clouds roiling above as if the sky were brewing a secret. She traveled alone, unless one counted the pulse rifle secured in the passenger seat, and the compass around her neck that hummed faintly—an heirloom that reacted strangely near fossil-rich terrain, as if detecting magnetic dreams buried beneath soil.

Whispers in the Green

Rains drummed the broad leaves overhead as Hannah pushed into the foliage on foot. Vines coiled like jungle serpents; bright flowers leaned toward her with almost human tilt, as though curious—or hungry. She brushed a fern aside and discovered stone pillars devoured by moss, decorated with sharp triangular carvings.

“Pre-Cataclysm glyphs,” she whispered. “No historical record of settlements here… but these look ceremonial.” She sketched quickly. Rain blurred her pencil lines like tears on parchment.

A low rumble rolled through the earth.

Not thunder. Deeper.

Hannah froze, pulse hammering. Something moved beyond the trees. She slid behind a trunk and steadied her breathing as the rumble faded into silence. After a count of twenty she resumed her path—slow, careful, curious.

The forest opened into a clearing where orchids stood unusually tall—three feet high, petals shimmering gold with flecks of crimson like droplets of living fire. The scent drifted warm and oddly sweet, as though coaxing her closer.

She leaned toward one, fascinated. “You’re magnificent,” she murmured. “As if the sun sculpted you.”

A whisper threaded the air—soft as silk sliding over skin. Hannah straightened. No wind stirred the canopy; yet the orchids swayed, almost beckoning, like dancers in some ancient ritual.

“Seductive little marvels,” she said with uneasy affection. “Too beautiful for their own good.”

The Obsidian Idol

By late afternoon, she reached the waterfall from the journal’s sketches. The fall poured through a cracked cliff face shaped like a reptilian skull, water gleaming blue as sapphires. Behind the torrent lay a cavern mouth. Hannah removed her boots, waded through the chill stream, and emerged inside a vast chamber lit by glowing fungi. The walls pulsed with mineral veins like arteries in stone.

At the center stood a black idol, obsidian smoothed into the form of a colossal saurian—wings folded, jaws closed, eyes carved from red crystal. Hannah’s heartbeat faltered. The idol felt… aware.

“You’re no ceremonial trinket,” she whispered. “You’re an invocation.”

A tablet lay beneath its claws. She brushed dust away—revealing ancient pictographs. One symbol appeared repeatedly: a spiral surrounding a single staring eye. Another depicted people kneeling as a winged dinosaur rose from a crater of flame.

“A cult?” Hannah wondered. “But who worships a beast with wings?”

A shadow twitched behind her. She swung with her flashlight, but nothing moved. She felt a cool breath brush her neck—a gust without wind.

“You feel me,” a voice seemed to whisper, though no sound truly came. “You hear what sleeps.”

Hannah gripped her rifle. “This place is getting under my skin.”

She should have left. A wiser explorer would have. But curiosity is a seductive force—it tempts even the most rationa
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