The next day, they had a rocky start. Their bodies ached from sleeping on their poorly made beds; their stomachs growled from the lack of food. Something needed to change. Leslie recounted the things in his pockets as the sun tried to blind him and no cloud tried to stop it. Meanwhile, Maryanne struggled to get up.

"It’s morning, darling. The sooner we move around and explore, the longer we can contemplate our options," he said, looking around their surroundings. On one side, not too far off, was the village, with the villagers already out and going about their day. Some peered over at the strange couple, but none of them bothered them the entire night.

"Can you fetch me some water, my love?" Maryanne groaned, moving around on the ground and fixing her dress to her legs. "I don’t feel so good."

"Was it last night’s meal?" he asked, holding her hand and pressing his palm to her forehead to check her temperature. "Rest here while I look for some fresh drinking water." He had looked into the village and wondered for a moment if he could ask them for help, but thought against it, as he still didn’t know their true motives. Just because they hadn’t killed them didn’t mean it was ever off the table.

So he went off away from the village to find another source of water. Until eventually, he stumbled across the beach, with the vast ocean expanding across the horizons. He stared at it. That moment seemed like an eternity. He had thought about the possibility of building a raft and sailing the sea. If that was going to be possible, then Maryanne would have to learn how to survive, not only at sea but on land as well. It would be something that Leslie would have to do, teach her, so that she wouldn’t be a liability. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to do, but he wanted her to enjoy the familial comforts that the life they had had provided. Here, she doesn't have servants doing the work for her; she would have to get her hands dirty. It was crucial for both of their long-term survival.

"The Great Water is dangerous," Chief Po said, approaching Leslie from the trees. "Any man that goes in is never seen again."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Leslie said, snickering. This tribe has probably never left the area. How would they know anything about what’s in the sea? Did their Altua tell them to stray away from curiosity? "Is there a stream of running water nearby?"

"Outside of the village, there is a small pond we use for fishing. Good for drinking as well. It is on the other side, not the beach side," Chief Po said, twirling his walking stick in the direction of the village.

"Thank you," Leslie said, passing the chief in the direction of his wife.

"We have sent our healer for your partner," Chief Po stated before Leslie got out of earshot. Leslie stopped that instant with murder in his eyes. The thought of Maryanne being helpless and at the whim of these villagers infuriated him. Were they going to poison her? He doesn't trust anything these tribe people have to offer.

"What!" Leslie growled, stabbing the chief with his eyes. Chief Po was taken aback by the glare, but quickly composed himself as Leslie raced off to find his wife.

When he arrived back at the place he had left his wife, he found her drinking from a small clay cup, knelt beside an old man, even older than the chief, a broad-shouldered man sporting a spear standing by the healer, and a couple of children gathering nearby.

Without hesitation, he quickly grabbed Maryanne by the arm and yanked her up, spilling the contents of the cup in the process on her dress.

"What are you doing?" He said, squeezing her arm harder, "What did they give you?"

"Water!" Maryanne yelled, snatching her arm away from his grasp, "It’s just water. I actually talked to them. These people mean no harm."

"Do you really believe that to be true?" he said, looking at those surrounding them in disgust. "Are you willing to worship their God? This Altua?"

"What nonsense are you speaking?" Maryanne said, backing away from her irritated husband.

"Is this the life you wanted? They said that their Altua sent us here. Why would you ever trust people who worship that of the devil?" Leslie said, approaching Maryanne to take her away from the villagers.

"Watch your tongue," Chief Po said, finally reaching the couple. "Do not soil Altua’s name."

"You," Leslie started, strutting up to the chief, "are a devil worshiper."

"Leslie, stop!" Maryanne cried, grabbing Leslie to pull him away before something bad happened. But he pushed her off to the side, stumbling to regain her footing.

"I don’t know why we’re here, but if your god, your Altua, had anything to do with this, then I don’t see him to be any better than a demon. Only a demon would send me and my poor wife here. Nothing but evil lurks-" Leslie stopped, but not because he couldn't come up with the words. It was because he had been impaled by the guard’s spear through his abdomen. He was in shock as the chief looked on with a look of satisfaction on his face.

And with that, Maryanne could only scream for her poor idiot husband who tried to tempt fate.