“If you soak too long, you'll come out wrinkled, and Marken will throw himself from the cliffs of love.” Besh.

Limbs were cut to make a framework on the eastern bank, held in place with heavy stones. By the orange light of evening, the cloaks were draped, and the women splashed gayly. Faith stood, her head seeming to float mid-air; her arms appeared and draped wet clothing over the invisible cloaks. Bending, she returned to drape Chic's clothing beside hers. The three men sat against ancient ruins.

Faith asked Besh, “You wouldn't happen to have some soap in your bag, would you?”

Besh said, “If you soak too long, you'll come out wrinkled, and Marken will throw himself from the cliffs of love.”

Faith snorted contempt for the gibe. Marken said, “Never.”

Faith said, “Stop idling, and build a fire.”

Besh stood and stretched. He turned to the wall of the ruin. How old was it? Who built it? What did the weathered alien runes say? He touched a rune and wondered silently. Taking a spear, Besh walked around the wall, heading east.

He said, “I'm going to look around.”

Walking east toward the craggy formations, Besh could hear the happy splashing of Faith and Chic. He could hear Sposh and Marken as they struggled to light a fire. He could have left his lighter, but he was tired of being everyone's general store.

Crags were the high point of the eastern end. The rocks were sharp and some were black. At the narrow end was a steep precipice guarded by a thorny shrub standing like a sentinel at rigid attention. It opened menacingly, like a Venus Flytrap. To the left of that, at a safe distance, Besh discovered a narrow ridge. As he poked around, he found a small low cave. He left the ridge and headed back to camp.

The fire was small, and the women sat in its red glow. Besh could smell the fish in the fire. The women attended the meal. A splashing noise came from the pool. Sposh walked around the cloaks to proffer two small fish. Chic took them and dropped them in the flames.

Faith said, “We need six more.”

Sposh said, “It's getting dark.”

Chic said, “We have our meal, but what will you eat?”

Besh walked to the western end of the spring and saw only dark tufts of weeds and other ruins. The nearest outcrop hindered his view; when he walked to it, he found it adequate for standing guard. He was comfortable atop its smooth surface and had a good view. It would be a place apart; a place to think.

Faith climbed up beside him. She looked into his eyes and nudged him with a shoulder. Besh was surprised that she sought the stowaway, but not overmuch. He wondered if her smile heralded good news, need, or complaint.

“Look at you,” said Faith quietly. “Sitting all alone.”

Besh answered, “We'll need to take turns standing watch. How's supper coming?”

Faith answered, “Marken's still diving.”

Besh replied, “He's a good provider. And, he's really into you.”

“No need to play Cupid,” said Faith. “Seems like I'm stuck with him.” Faith took a sudden turn. “What about you?” she asked. “You're unattached.”

Besh looked at his boots. “I'm single by choice,” he said. “I wouldn't compete with Marken. I'm not that type.”

Faith inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. Besh wondered if he had been too blunt. Camp noises were happy with Tappish laughter.

Faith looked into the sky and said, “Beautiful sky.”

The voice of Marken came from behind, causing Faith to start. “Sir. Milady. Come to supper.” The voice was flat and unemotional, making Besh turn to look. Marken's face, at first slack, attempted a brave smile. “I recommend the fish,” he said.

Besh followed Faith and Marke. Sposh called from the fire, “Besh, come sit by the fire. Marken's a wonder. He can hold his breath like forever.”

Chic called merrily, “See the fish he caught.”

The smell was enticing. Besh sat next to Sposh, returning a genuine smile. “They smell good,” he said with enthusiasm.

Faith and Marken sat across from Besh. Sposh used two small sticks to pull and serve the fish; they were hot and could not be held long. Chic laughed with Sposh as they passed the hot fish from hand to hand. Faith blew her small fish excitedly. Marken held his fish below his nose and inhaled with due appreciation.

Besh held his fish in his palm, face raised, eyes closed. Then, he opened his eyes and looked at Marken, who tested his fish judiciously. “I'm thankful,” said Besh. “Beyond that, I have only one thing to say.” Marken looked up from his fish. Besh smiled and said, “Chow down.”

They sat back from the meal looking at the pile of fish bones. Sposh hugged his wife, and Marken stared into the fire thoughtfully. Besh caught Faith's eye and nodded toward Marken. At first, Faith was hesitant; Besh nodded more emphatically. Faith sighed and reached to put a hand on Marken's shoulder. Marken looked up.

Faith forced a smile and said, “Thanks, Marken.”

Chic said, “We eat because of you.”

Besh cleared his throat for attention. “Here's the thing,” he said. “We don't have a tree to climb. Let's keep the fire going, and keep our weapons close. I'll stand first watch. Then I'll wake Marken, and Marken can wake Sposh.”

“What about us?” asked Chic.

Faith asked, “You don't think women can stand watch?”

Besh answered easily, “You'll be watching the fire.”

Marken added, more like his usual self, “Keepers of the flame.”

Besh said, “When you two have enough wood, I'll take the hatchet and begin my watch.”

Faith gave pause for thought when she asked, “So, how're we getting off this cliff in the morning?”

Besh thought, blinking several times as the others waited. “Obviously,” he said, “we'll look for a way down.”

Faith stammered, “Well, yeah. I mean.”

Besh cut in, “It's on my morning to-do list. For now, let's get through the night.”

Marken stood and turned to Besh. He said, “If sir will lend me his hatchet, I'll cut wood for the ladies.”

“Deal,” said Faith.

Besh stood and passed the hatchet to Marken. Faith stood, and Chic followed. She looked down at her husband and said, “Six arms are better than four.”

Faith agreed. “That's right. No loafing.”

Sposh answered solemnly, “I need to speak with Besh.”

Faith shrugged and followed Marken east to the small trees. Chic lingered, looking at her husband until he added, “I won't be long.”

When Chic ran around the corner, Besh sat and asked, “What do you need to talk about?”

Sposh grinned. “Nothing,” he said. “Just feeling lazy.”

Nodding sagely, Besh asked, “What will you tell her when she asks?”

Sposh answered, “We can say it's man stuff. She won't pry. But really, I should ask a question.”

“What?” asked Besh, throwing wood into the fire.

“Well,” said Sposh. “Chic is worried about walking through a rock, and I have no words to comfort her.”

Besh said, “Technically, that's not a question. It's like a sudden wind.”

“No,” said Sposh. “Not that. We've never been anywhere but home.”

“Friend,” said Besh. “I don't know what's on the other side. Whatever it turns out to be, face it with your arm around your wife. She looks to you. You just have to be there for her. Marken will be there for Faith, and I'll be there for all of you.”

Sposh said, “I like Marken. I think he's nice. Does Faith not like him?”

Besh laughed lightly. “She's still trying to figure that one out. If she misses the boat, she's not as smart as I took her for.”

Sposh laughed. Chic walked into camp and dropped an armload of branches. She gave a challenging look to her husband and asked, “Are you just being lazy?”

“No,” answered Sposh. “Besh just said something funny.”

When Chic turned to Besh, he answered, “Man stuff.”

Chic turned back to Sposh and raised two fingers to her eyes, then pointed them at her husband as a warning. She turned and walked stiffly around the wall. Besh and Sposh laughed behind their hands, and Besh enjoyed the moment. He said to his friend, “We should go help.”

Marken awoke under the cloak with Faith. He raised his head to view the camp; the fire had died, and Besh was missing. Marken hated leaving Faith's warm body but was compelled to answer the call of nature. He rolled away and quickly tucked the cloak around Faith; she grunted at the movement. When he was done, Marken peered around in the dark to see where Besh might be and spotted him sitting on the northern precipice.

Marken trotted to the cliff and sat beside Besh. Besh met his eyes with a bland if somewhat melancholy expression. Marken noted the colorful bag that Besh carried over one shoulder. He did not want to pry; he needed Besh to get him and Faith through his rock gate.

He asked, “Couldn't sleep?”

“I'm fine,” answered Besh. “Just thinking.”

Marken looked into the valley below seeing a dense fog covering the the valley floor. The eerie predawn light gave it a surreal look. He turned back to Besh and asked, “Is it much farther? To your gate?”

“It's beyond the valley,” said Besh.

Sposh came quietly and sat beside Besh. He said, “The next row of hills leads into the black mountains. The regret is there.”

Besh said, “I think I found a way down.”

A slight vibration could be felt through the rock. Marken asked, “Is that?”

“A quake,” answered Besh. “Yes.”

Chic sat beside Sposh, took his arm, and rested her head on his shoulder. “You left me,” she complained sleepily.

Faith sat beside Marken, yawned, and said, “I got cold. Why are we all over here?”

Besh said quietly, “When the sun is up, we'll go down. Yesterday, I thought I saw a river below. We'll rest in the northern hills; the gate is just beyond.”

“How can you tell?” asked Faith.

Chic added, “You're not even from our world.”

Besh answered, “I have a physical connection.”

“Trust him,” said Marken.

“He's a wonder,” said Sposh.

Faith stood and stretched. She said, “Well, all this male bonding makes me itch. I need to find the little girl's room. Chic?”

The sun was about to pop over the eastern horizon; the side of the smoking volcano was bathed in a dull red, while the smoke high in the atmosphere was orange. Below, the fog was turning light gray and birds flew over the valley calling to each other. It was beyond picturesque, it was one of those moments, rare and splendid.

The sun was up and Besh sat in camp waiting for Marken to fold the cloaks and pass them over; his bag was open and ready. Besh took what appeared to be thin air, holding it carefully and placing it deep.

Sposh said, “I can't believe you stood watch by yourself. You take on too much.”

“I'm fine,” said Besh.

Marken passed a cloak and said, “Had I stood watch, I could be big in my lady's eyes. Now, I'm small again.”

Besh replied, “You and Faith should keep me out of the middle.”

Sposh said, “In love, there's only room for love.”

Faith called from the high ground, “You should see this.”

Besh threw the strap over his head and came to his feet. Marken and Sposh followed to the rock on which he sat all night. Faith and Chic made way as Besh climbed up.

Faith said, “There are new rocks to the west.”

Besh saw a stubborn mist shrouding several dozen dark objects he had not previously seen. He was instantly ill at ease.

Chic said, “I think I saw one of them move.”

“Let me up,” said Sposh, taking a proffered hand. At the top, Sposh looked hard into the morning mist. Tall dark objects stood motionless. Sposh called Besh to ear level and whispered, “We should leave camp.”

Quietly, Besh ushered his friends through the camp. There was little to retrieve save the weapons. Sposh and Marken took the spears, and Besh put the hatchet in his belt. He looked up into Faith's worried expression and said quietly, “Let me know if they move.” Pulling his bag open as he crouched, Besh rummaged.

Marken crouched beside him and asked, “What?”

Besh replied, “I may have more firecrackers.”

With a single bundle of firecrackers and a lighter in one hand, Besh motioned his friends to follow him east. Faith and Marken ran ahead while Sposh and Chic followed. Besh was startled by a cracking sound from behind. He turned to see Sposh on his knees, Chic attempting to pull him up, and a snapped spear on the ground. Faith and Marken stopped to look back. As Sposh stood, broken spear in hand, a loud honking noise came from the west.

The ground beneath their feet rumbled and the challenging call was close enough for goosebumps. Besh motioned everyone behind the ruin and peeked around. A large hairy beast ran from the mist and stopped at the western bank of the pool. And, what a creature it was! The hair was matted, the face was flat and bear-like, the front legs were ape-like arms ending in wicked claws, and the back legs were short and muscular. Ears swiveled on the sides of its head as it sought the disturbance. Bristling, the beast stomped the ground with its long front arms and snorted aggressively.

Sposh squeezed between the wall and Besh to take a look. He pulled Besh down and whispered, “It's a Banger. A big one.”

Faith and Chic stood in each other's embrace, their eyes wide, their mouths gaping. Besh peeked around the wall and saw the herd come to the pool, some alert, some stooping to drink. Leaning close to Sposh, Besh asked, “Any advice?”

Sposh shrugged, and his answer came as a question. “Run?”

Besh said, “There's nothing to the east. Maybe they'll drink and leave.” Faith and Chic nodded vigorously.

Marken took a stance in front of Faith, his spear ready. He asked Sposh in a whisper, “What do they eat?”

Sposh shook his head, confused, then said, “Herbivores.”

Faith whispered sharply, “The trees are herbs.”

The group was at a collective loss. If they ran, the Bangers would charge. If they waited in hiding, they would be spotted when the animals sought the trees. Besh looked around his frightened group and saw them looking at him for an answer he didn't have.

Marken asked, “What if we run at them? Charge right at them, and jump in the water. That might scare them away.”

Faith shook her head and said, “No. No.”

Chic shook her head and said, “No. No.”

Besh turned to Sposh, asking, “Can they swim?”

It was beyond him, and Sposh answered in a whisper both frustrated and annoyed. “I don't know.”

Besh peeked around the wall, awash in the group's anxiety. The bull was on the east side of the pool, looking at the ruin, swiveling ears, and snorting. Besh turned back to his friends with eyes as wide as theirs. “We should run,” he whispered.

Just then, Marken jumped from behind the wall. His spear above his head, Marken hooted loudly and menacingly waved his weapon. “Ha! Ha!” shouted Marken. The beast was unimpressed. Instead of being startled by Marken's bold action, the beast saw only challenge. Rearing to a frightful height, the bull Banger bellowed rage.

The bull charged, the herd followed, and the group ran. The sound of banger feet was a rumble both heard and felt. Besh looked back, glad to see the short hind legs of the animals were a disadvantage; the Bangers lumbered more than ran. His friends were at the eastern end with nowhere to go, Besh waved his arms and called ahead, “In the cave! There's a cave in the ledge!” Besh slid to a stop, and Sposh pulled him in.