"Well Zane what are you going to do today." The nature spirit spoke to himself in a very sarcastic tone. "Oh, I don't know, perhaps go into the jungle and hang out." Zane looked up at the ground. Yes, up at the ground. You see, Zane was hanging from a trap, about five feet in the air, twas an odd sensation having all the blood rush to his head. Trying again for the umpteenth time, he tried to curl his body up to get to the rope that suspended his body in the air. and for the umpteenth time he was unsuccessful. This is what happens when for seventeen years, your average physical labor is walking from place to place and killing the occasional banshee.
Looking down, vertigo started to set in. His bow, quiver, and cloak looked so far away. "So much for being observant Zane." He berate himself.