        When the sun dropped below the treeline, he decided it was time to head back.  He zipped his dining fly shut, and placed a fresh notebook out on the table.  This one wasn’t going to be shown to the unicorn, if he could help it.  He drew a quick sketch of the area surrounding the beach, with the most obvious potential ambush spots marked.  He knew that he wouldn’t be able to give them more than a cursory glance before he made his way to the beach, and, if the creatures could teleport in separate groups—which they seemed to be able to do on Star Trek—he was hardly going to be able to prevent an ambush.  He could, however, occasionally cast an eye towards the most obvious spots, and if someone were to appear in them he could—