Resume your escape without losing time

Curved like a hunting feline, you sink into the stale wetness of the marshes, crumpling the broad corollas of large red water lilies that float like torn hearts on the brackish waters. The smell of yeast lifts your stomach, the insects harass you relentlessly as you progress in a wet hiss through the sharp gorse.

Soon you see on your left a kind of rough hut on stilts, its thatched roof clawing at the sky, its walls decorated with fishing nets. Near a wooden pontoon, a pirogue sways gently. The sound of muffled voices pulls you out of your reflections: your pursuers are getting closer.