Kuto was always on the lookout for anything that might pose a threat to his safety. He had learned early on in life that it was better to be safe than sorry. So when he saw something moving out of the corner of his eye, he didn’t hesitate to take action.
He quickly leapt to his feet and drew his knife from its sheath. His heart was pounding in his chest as he scanned the area for whatever had caught his attention. But there was nothing there.
He let out a sigh of relief and shook his head at himself. It was just another false alarm. He’d been jumpy ever since arriving in Botswana, and with good reason. This was not a place for someone like him – someone who preferred peace and quiet over adventure and excitement.
But Kuto wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, so here he was, braving the unknown in hopes of finding something worth writing about in his travel journal back home. So far, all he’d found were endless plains of grassland punctuated by an occasional tree or bush; not exactly what one would call “exotic.”
Still, he couldn’t help but feel excited as he continued walking northward, following the advice of the locals who told him that this would eventually lead him to someplace called “The Okavango Delta.” Whatever that meant…