The sun is in your eyes and the engine is roaring as you fly with Pete, the pilot who agreed to fly you across the border for a modest fee. The South American jungle seems endless below you as you fly on. "Yeah, this baby's gonna outlive us all." Pete says, stroking the plane's dashboard. Pete is an older man, about 70, with a short gray beard and a short haircut. His sunglasses reflect the dense jungle around him. "You know, flying always relaxes me. And this jungle... I remember when I was flying over Vietnam when I was young. Machine guns firing, clouds of rockets flying, and the smell of napalm. Yeah, we gave them a hard time then..." Pete recalls, laughing. At that very moment, a sharp metallic sound interrupts your conversation. The plane jolts hard, forcing you to press yourself into your seat. The propeller of the plane freezes in place in front of you, while the sound of some gears continues to ring. "Fucking bitch!" Pete screams, flipping some switches. "I survived Vietnam, I survived the Gulf War, I survived fucking Iraq, and I will not die on a rust bucket in the middle of all this shit!" he screams again, trying to hold on to the control column with all his might. Your plane begins to smoothly descend, and the treetops are dangerously close. "Hold on, man, I'm going to try a trick..." Pete says, and presses several buttons. The treetops begin to hit the plane, the sound growing louder and louder. The next moment, a tall tree touches the wing of your plane, causing it to take a sharp turn. You squeeze your hands on the seat, and at that very moment, darkness, silence, and weightlessness come... A sudden acrid smell makes you open your eyes. You realize you can't breathe and try to get your bearings. Turning your head to the left, you see Pete. A metal piece of the dashboard is going through his head and thick dark blood is running down from there, collecting in his beard while his glass eyes are frozen forever. Smoke is starting to fill the cockpit. You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door of the plane, at the same time falling out of the wreckage with it. You try to crawl away from the wreckage, shards of glass crunching under you, and a sharp pain in your chest makes you fall face first into the ground. You open your eyes again. Blue sky is visible through the tall trees. A lattice made of branches tied together separates you from the world. Finding the strength within you, you try to sit up, your chest still aching and your head throbbing annoyingly. As you stand up, you realize that you are completely naked of the clothes you were wearing just a moment ago. Finally sitting up, you see that you are locked in a cage on the ground. Looking around, you see many women dressed in skins and clothes made of leaves. Some are holding bows or spears, and knives that look like they were made from someone's bones. All are united by the interest with which they are looking at you. Some with a smile, others with disgust. A group of women move aside, bowing respectfully before a young but prideful lady. With her head held high, she slowly walks towards you, clearly demonstrating her high status here. She is dressed in a skirt of dark fur, possibly panther, and a leopard robe lies on her shoulders, leaving her chest bare, revealing her full ripe breasts and shimmering dark skin. As she approaches your cage, her head does not hang down, looking at you with disdain. "A stranger. But more importantly..." she says, pausing, clearly wanting to unleash a torrent of insults on you. "A man." she says, as if spitting the word out in disgust. "A rare guest in our lands. The last men came to us about 10 years ago with a shooting stick and a couple of their friends, trying to catch us like wild animals. But I must admit, their cocks were a tasty delicacy at our dinner, and their skulls still scare off animals." she says in a cold tone, but the disgust can still be detected. "And now your iron bird has fallen in our woods. We searched it and found iron rods there, very similar to those shooting sticks, like the other men." She says, then sighs, looking at you thoughtfully. "Tell me, stranger. Your friend died quickly. But will fate be so lenient to you? Why are you here? Did you want to kill us, steal us, or what purpose brought you here? And I do not advise you to lie to me, a man with... still a dick." She turns to you dismissively, while the other women continue to look at your naked body.

"You seem to be in quite a lot of pain. We can help with that." The young woman says indifferently as she takes a step back, revealing her perfect figure. Her eyes flicker over your naked form before returning to meet yours once more, unashamed and curious all at once. "Of course," she continues, pausing thoughtfully, "in exchange for an answer to my questions."

Her words hang in the air as the other women around you grow restless. One of them steps forward, offering a bowl of water and some soft cloths for cleaning yourself. The young woman watches your every move, her expression unreadable. It is clear that she holds your fate - and potentially the fate of others in this village - within her hands.

The young woman nods once in acknowledgement as you thank her and accept the items offered. She seems unimpressed by your gratitude, her expression remaining cool and aloof. The other women around you watch carefully, sensing the power dynamic at play between the two of you. Your words have done little to endear yourself to her, and now it's time for action if you hope to win her favor - or even survive among them.

The young woman laughs, her expression finally softening slightly. "You insult us with your lies! We know what men are like. If you weren't here to take something from us, why else would you be here?" She pauses, studying you carefully. "Perhaps you were simply unlucky? A stray in the vast jungle that happened upon our village? If that is so, then perhaps we could find some use for you... But it's not a guarantee."

She tilts her head to the side, considering further. "You look rather weak and wounded right now. I imagine it would take quite some time for you to recover fully from your injuries. Perhaps, in that time, you could prove your worth to us..." Her gaze drifts downward as she speaks, taking in the curves of your body and the obvious damage it has sustained. "Or perhaps not."

The young woman listens to your story with barely concealed disdain. She purses her lips and looks away, considering your words carefully before finally speaking. "I suppose there might be some truth in what you say," she begins slowly, her gaze fixed on a distant point over your shoulder. "It is not unheard of for men to wander aimlessly through the jungle like lost children. But that still does not explain why this man," she gestures vaguely at Pete's lifeless form, "- risked his precious iron bird to bring you here."

She pauses once more, seemingly deep in thought. "Perhaps... if you prove yourself useful to us, we might let you stay for a while. But understand this: any service or task given to you will be exacting and demanding. You must work twice as hard to earn our trust."

She squares her shoulders, lif

The young woman's eyes widen in surprise before narrowing into slits. "You really are a pathetic excuse for a man," she hisses through clenched teeth. "You survived that crash, and you have the audacity to not even recognize what flew you here? Fine, let me enlighten you. An iron bird is what we call any flying machine in this land, be it an airplane or a helicopter."

She takes a deep breath, calming herself. "Now that that's cleared up, do you accept my terms?" she asks coolly. "Or would you rather leave, and face whatever other fates await men who dare to tread on our lands?"

The young woman's eyes narrow at your request, but she suppresses her anger. "Very well," she says through gritted teeth. "I shall have the cage removed." She turns to one of the women standing behind her and snaps her fingers. The other woman bows low and hurries off into the distance.

Meanwhile, you slowly begin to relax as the pain in your chest ebbs away. Your muscles are still sore from the impact when the plane crashed, but at least the wounds don't seem life-threatening. You wonder what sort of tasks this tribe will have for you to prove yourself useful...

"I apologize for the crude treatment," she says, her voice tinged with a hint of annoyance. "But you must understand that our ways are different here, and we have learned to adapt to survive." The other woman returns a few moments later, carrying tools to free your hands from their restraints. You watch as the young leader deftly maneuvers the metal bars aside, revealing your sore wrists. She hands you the tools, wordlessly inviting you to finish the job yourself.

As you massage life back into your hands, you notice some of the other women exchanging glances and whispering among themselves. They eye you warily but curiously at the same time. It seems as if they are not quite sure what to make of your presence here yet. Only time will tell how long this fragile truce between you and them will last...

She notices your discomfort and says dismissively, "They have seen many a man in their time, do not worry yourself overmuch." Her expression softens slightly. "Here, take these," she offers, handing you a loincloth to cover yourself. As you hurriedly accept it and begin tying it around your waist, she continues, "Your task now is to prove yourself useful. We will give you some food and water to regain your strength. Then we shall discuss further."

With that, she turns her back on you and walks away, surrounded by an aura of command and respect. The other women part before her like the Red Sea, their eyes never leaving her face as she leads them through the village. You wonder what kind of task they will set for you...