A cacophony shattered the stillness of the jungle, ripping through the curtain of silence that had fallen upon the group. It was a roar, guttural and fierce, reverberating off the trees and striking terror into the hearts of all who heard it. "Positions!" Amelia's command cut through the fear like a sword through silk. The crew and werewolves responded with the precision of seasoned warriors, weapons drawn in an instant—a mix of cutlasses, daggers, and claws glinting under the dappled light. "Amelia, what was that?" whispered a young sailor, his voice betraying his dread. "Stay focused," she urged him, her blue eyes scanning the thick underbrush for any signs of movement. "We knew this island wouldn't welcome us with open arms." The beating of her heart echoed in her ears, a reminder of the danger they faced. But beneath the hammering pulse lay a core of steel; she would not allow fear to take root.
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