This may be one of the lowest moments of your career: conceding defeat to a second-rate college professor and his pet student. But despite the deep sleep you just enjoyed, you know you are still physically exhausted and starved. You were only asleep for a few hours, and you still haven't had anything to eat. Add the fact that the last liquid you consumed was whiskey, and your assessment of your condition is not good. You can't see how you'd have any advantage in a test of strength or speed with Ligru.

"All right, you win," you say, dropping your pack on the ground.

"Obviously," Pop says. "Now do this slowly. I always like a good reveal."

Like most backpacks, this one features a hood that sits over the main compartment, with two straps holding it in place. You release the clips and let the hood fall backwards, and then pull on the drawstring to reveal the contents of the pack. The Stone of Vul-Kar is the first thing you see.

"Where is it? I can't see," Pop says.

You realize that from afar neither he nor Ligru can see inside the pack — so not only can they not see the crystal, but they are also unaware of the surprise you just found.

When you last looked at the contents of your pack last night, it was dark and you were in a hurry to flee the Woban village. You found the stone in Gary Gaffney's pack, immediately realized the fortunate position you were in, and stowed it inside your own reclaimed backpack without scrutinizing too much what else it contained. But it seems that Meredith made an addition of her own, before she gave up the ghost.

"It's so beautiful," you say, stalling for time as you reassess your situation. "I just want to look at it one last time."

"Oh for crying out loud," Pop says. "Just let me have it already."

"Since you put it that way…." What you pull out is not the crystal, but the handgun that could only have been left behind by the woman who absconded with your stuff yesterday.

"Well hey now!" Pop says.

"Ligru, stand next to your professor," you say.

The young man in the grass skirt dutifully moves around you, his hands raised as he joins Pop. "Looks like we've been fooled, sir," he says.

"Now, I've enjoyed the time I've spent with you fellas," you say. "But this game has gone on long enough. I have a delivery to make, and while I appreciate the offer I really don't need your assistance."

The gun feels awkward in your hand, but you try not to let your inexperience show. It won't be much of a threat if your two companions don't think you can use it.

"Let's be reasonable here," Pop says. "If you fire that thing, you're likely to bring the Wobans down on all of us."

His hands are raised, but he is taking a cautious step toward you. For once you have the upper hand, and you want to keep it that way. So you flip the safety switch and fire a shot at the ground in front of Pop — the Wobans be damned. You don't intend to stick around long enough to see them come, anyway.

"All right! All right!" Pop says. "I had no idea you were such a lunatic."

"There are five more shots where that came from," you bluff; you have no idea what Meredith left you inside the chamber. "If you leave me alone, I'll leave you alone. It's that simple."

You worry that Ligru might try and jump you while you shoulder your pack once more, but the big man really seems unsure of what to do. You are unable to fasten the buckles without taking your attention off your companions, so you let the pack hang from your shoulders like a dead weight.

"I'm serious!" you say. "If you follow me, I'll be very unhappy." To emphasize your point, you fire one more shot into the ground. Both Pop and Ligru jump slightly as a little plume of dust rises at their feet.

And with that you run. Last night, as you were descending the steep and rocky slope, you were concerned that you might have lost the trail in the dark. Now, in the morning light, the way couldn't be clearer. The trail leads down a gentle slope, but with so many rocks and roots that you could easily get yourself killed if you weren't paying attention.

However, running with the pack hanging loose on your shoulders just isn't going to do. It feels like running a steeplechase with a seven-year-old child riding piggyback.

So after about a minute down the trail, you stop to buckle the waist strap. As you do so you turn around and see Ligru following at a distance. His big, gangly body wasn't built for running, but that isn't stopping him from trying. You'd much prefer that he didn't, and so you consider the handgun in your right hand. It's no exaggeration to say you don't like these things, and that in your experience they cause more harm than good. But you remember Ligru's demonstration with the spear last night, and it won't do to let him get too close. So you lift the gun, aim it at your pursuer, pull the trigger, and…

Nothing happens. The gun clicks, but no shots are fired.

Damn you, Meredith! Did she really just load this thing with two bullets? Or maybe she fired the other four before hiding the gun inside your pack. The dead tell no tales, so you may never know.

But whatever the explanation, the gun is worthless now. You toss it into the jungle and resume your jog down the trail, trying to set the best possible pace despite the ruggedness of the route. At some point last night the trail veered away from the small river, but you are starting to hear it more loudly now, as if you were returning to its side. And then, just moments later, the trail leads you right to its bank.

Well this sucks! The river is flowing through a rocky trench, like a miniature gorge with V-shaped walls. The current is swift and violent as the entire flow is funneled through this tight space. The only way across is a single log that spans the gorge, from a dead tree that fell long ago and has been rotting ever since. It is about three feet in diameter, and some of the bark has sloughed off. The bare, exposed wood looks incredibly slick.

If you weren't running for your life from someone with a spear — and the proven ability to use it — you could probably take your time and scoot your away across this thing. But it's a good four feet above the water, and the price of losing your balance trying to cross in a hurry would be catastrophic. So perhaps it would be better to duck into the jungle and elude Ligru that way.

__________________________________________________
> You duck into the jungle.
You'll never make it across that death trap of a log, so there is no point in even trying. Ligru will be here soon, and you don't want to be caught with your back to the river when he does. The only other option is to plunge into the jungle beside the gorge, hoping that there is an easy way to get through this rugged part of the valley — and that you somehow manage to evade your pursuer in the process.

The vegetation is thick, making you feel like a fly trying to push your way through a spider's web. You have a hard time seeing your feet, let alone what is twenty feet ahead of you. With each step you might be placing your foot on solid ground, an unseen gap in the bedrock, or the nest of some reclusive bird — you have no way of knowing, nor do you have the luxury of time to worry about it. All you can do is try and put as much distance between you and the trail as you can.

"I see you!"

It's Ligru's voice, and he's shouting to be heard above the roar of the river. You turn and see his face through the leaves, staring right at you from the trail. You've barely made it fifty feet.

He tries to come at you, but if there is any consolation, it's that the jungle offers his large body even more resistance than it is giving you. Newly motivated to keep going, you move right to what at first appears to be a more open avenue through the vegetation. But when you get there you are caught off guard by a hidden ledge that is lurking in the forest, ready to betray you and slide you into the gorge.

"God damn this jungle!" Ligru shouts, his limbs mired in vines and branches. It is like the jungle is your ally, ensnaring your foe and giving you a chance to get away — except that if it were true, you'd appreciate your ally showing you a better path forward.

You get enmeshed yourself in a nasty patch of thick underbrush; seeing no quick way around it, you decided it was best to push straight through. Now leaves fill your vision, and some even try to get in your mouth. It feels like every square inch of your body is being hindered by some small branch that refuses to give way. Others snag at your pack, offering further resistance. So maybe the jungle isn't your ally after all. It despises both of you equally.

All you can do is force your way through this green mesh, hoping things start to improve when you emerge on the other side. But what you find instead is empty space. You scramble to find something to grab onto, or something solid to step on, but you find nothing but air. Realizing that you are about to fall, it is the most you can do to remain upright so that you can land on your feet.

__________________________________________________
> Next page.
You land with a splash, up to your knees in brown water. This appears to be some kind of side alcove in the gorge, with the main river flowing  past the opening just twenty feet away. Walls of black rock rise vertically all around you, with the spot from which you fell just five feet above you. But the rock is hopelessly slippery; there is no chance you will be able to climb back up out of this little chamber.

The only way out is toward the river, but you are doubtful that will really be much of an exit. You are standing in a backwater, relatively safe even if you are trapped. But out there is a raging torrent, where you put your odds of survival pretty close to zero — especially if you are weighed down by your backpack and the Stone of Vul-Kar.

Unfortunately you see no other way out, so you decide to venture a little closer to at least see what the main part of the gorge looks like. You hug the wall of this dark alcove, having no idea what it is you're walking on beneath that dark water. Twice you stumble over some unseen rock, and slowly the water inches its way up toward your waist. You unclip the waist belt of your pack, knowing that if you get swept away by the main current you'll need to sacrifice it to save yourself.

You come to a corner of the rock wall, the water now up to your thighs. What you see is encouraging and unexpected: a shelf of rock on your right that sits almost a foot above the current level of the river. The wall of the gorge is just as vertical and slick here, but at least it is a patch of bare ground upon which you can climb out of the water and reassess your situation.

Obviously, your boots are now hopelessly soaked, and will remain that way until you can figure out a way to dry them thoroughly. Even after you hoist yourself up onto the rock shelf, your feet feel like they are trapped in a pair of goldfish bowls. You examine your legs but you see no signs of leeches, so you feel like this is a win-some-lose-some situation.

So there you are, out of the river but still stuck in the gorge, with no easy exits in sight. How you pine for the old days, when all that might be expected of you was to travel to the Arctic Circle and dig some wooly mammoth tusks or something out of the thawing tundra. The mosquitoes were often unbearable, and the payoffs were typically less handsome, but at least in Alaska there were no cannibal villages or goons from Oakland running around in grass skirts trying to kill you with a spear. Sometimes the simple ways are the best.

Your reverie is broken when something long and skinny touches your shoulder. You jump to the opposite end of the shelf. Of course your first thought is that this is a snake, but to your knowledge no snakes have discovered this tropical "Eden" yet. This object, it turns out, is a vine.

"Grab hold, silly!"

Looking up, you see Ligru directly above you. He is standing on the rim of the gorge, dangling the vine down to your level. Not long ago he was coming at you with his Woban spear, but now he wants to be your savior? Yes, you want out of this gorge, but not necessarily at any cost.

"Why?" you shout back. "So you can rob me once you get me out of here?"

He cocks his head as if he can't fully understand you above the river's roar, but then he says in response, "We need to talk! Grab the vine! I don't want to hurt you!"

You remember your earlier assessment that Ligru was not really a threat at all, but a gentle giant who was incapable of doing half the stuff his professor friend said he could do. All this time you've been running from the guy, and you even tried to shoot him, but perhaps in reality he has been the ally you've needed all along.

Or maybe this whole act is a deception designed to get you and the Stone of Vul-Kar out of the gorge to fulfill his master's bidding.

__________________________________________________
> You accept Ligru's help.
Regardless of what you might think of Ligru, this vine he is dangling over you is the only real exit that you can see from the gorge. As you grab onto the end, you can only hope that your hunch proves correct and that he is helping you so you can collaboratively foil Professor Pop. If that is not the case… well, first things first.

You expect to have to climb up the vine, similar to the way you extracted yourself from the Woban pit not even twelve hours ago. Your arms are still smarting from that effort and are not excited about the prospect. However, once Ligru sees that you have a satisfactory grip on the vine, he begins tugging on it to lift you up. All you have to do is hang on and enjoy the ride.

It's not until you near the rim that you begin to help your own cause again by grabbing the nearest root of any substantial size, using it as a handle to pull yourself back onto solid ground. You see that Ligru had looped the vine around the trunk of a nearby tree, and was therefore using it as a pulley as he lifted you up from inside the gorge.

But that's not all you see: there standing next to him is Martian Pop.

"I think we can all agree that this nonsense needs to stop," Pop says. "You have nowhere left to run. Now hand over that pack."

When you don't respond, Ligru grabs you by the shoulder.

"Just take it, Ligru. We don't have time for this."

Because you had unhooked the waist strap when you were wading through the water, all the big man has to do is spin you around and lift your pack off your body. And thus it gets stolen from you twice on the same trip: first by Meredith when she crept into your cabin before dawn, and now by this duplicitous duo in broad daylight.

"I was going to at least let you keep your personal items," Pop says as he takes your pack from Ligru. "But my moment of charity has passed. Ligru, make sure this idiot never bothers us again."

Before you can protest or ask questions, Ligru gives you a firm push, walking you backwards to the rim of the gorge. When you trip over the vine that a moment ago pulled you to safety, you tumble headfirst back into the gorge. When you land on the rock shelf, it is not a pretty sight.

THE END


You land with a splash, up to your knees in brown water. This appears to be some kind of side alcove in the gorge, with the main river flowing  past the opening just twenty feet away. Walls of black rock rise vertically all around you, with the spot from which you fell just five feet above you. But the rock is hopelessly slippery; there is no chance you will be able to climb back up out of this little chamber.

The only way out is toward the river, but you are doubtful that will really be much of an exit. You are standing in a backwater, relatively safe even if you are trapped. But out there is a raging torrent, where you put your odds of survival pretty close to zero — especially if you are weighed down by your backpack and the Stone of Vul-Kar.

Unfortunately you see no other way out, so you decide to venture a little closer to at least see what the main part of the gorge looks like. You hug the wall of this dark alcove, having no idea what it is you're walking on beneath that dark water. Twice you stumble over some unseen rock, and slowly the water inches its way up toward your waist. You unclip the waist belt of your pack, knowing that if you get swept away by the main current you'll need to sacrifice it to save yourself.

You come to a corner of the rock wall, the water now up to your thighs. What you see is encouraging and unexpected: a shelf of rock on your right that sits almost a foot above the current level of the river. The wall of the gorge is just as vertical and slick here, but at least it is a patch of bare ground upon which you can climb out of the water and reassess your situation.

Obviously, your boots are now hopelessly soaked, and will remain that way until you can figure out a way to dry them thoroughly. Even after you hoist yourself up onto the rock shelf, your feet feel like they are trapped in a pair of goldfish bowls. You examine your legs but you see no signs of leeches, so you feel like this is a win-some-lose-some situation.

So there you are, out of the river but still stuck in the gorge, with no easy exits in sight. How you pine for the old days, when all that might be expected of you was to travel to the Arctic Circle and dig some wooly mammoth tusks or something out of the thawing tundra. The mosquitoes were often unbearable, and the payoffs were typically less handsome, but at least in Alaska there were no cannibal villages or goons from Oakland running around in grass skirts trying to kill you with a spear. Sometimes the simple ways are the best.

Your reverie is broken when something long and skinny touches your shoulder. You jump to the opposite end of the shelf. Of course your first thought is that this is a snake, but to your knowledge no snakes have discovered this tropical "Eden" yet. This object, it turns out, is a vine.

"Grab hold, silly!"

Looking up, you see Ligru directly above you. He is standing on the rim of the gorge, dangling the vine down to your level. Not long ago he was coming at you with his Woban spear, but now he wants to be your savior? Yes, you want out of this gorge, but not necessarily at any cost.

"Why?" you shout back. "So you can rob me once you get me out of here?"

He cocks his head as if he can't fully understand you above the river's roar, but then he says in response, "We need to talk! Grab the vine! I don't want to hurt you!"

You remember your earlier assessment that Ligru was not really a threat at all, but a gentle giant who was incapable of doing half the stuff his professor friend said he could do. All this time you've been running from the guy, and you even tried to shoot him, but perhaps in reality he has been the ally you've needed all along.

Or maybe this whole act is a deception designed to get you and the Stone of Vul-Kar out of the gorge to fulfill his master's bidding.

__________________________________________________
> You decline.
"You know I can't trust you!" you shout back up to Ligru.

"Have it your way, then," he says, and the next thing you know he is using the vine to descend into the gorge.

This is not going to end well. The shelf on which you're standing is scarcely a hundred square feet in size, leaving you nowhere to go except the river should Ligru decide to try and force the stone from you. With nothing but a portfolio of decreasingly attractive options, you decide that the only way to buy yourself some time might be to drop your pack into the river. With any luck, you'll figure out a way later to fish it out someplace downstream. Therefore you stand at the edge of the rock shelf as Ligru comes down the vine, your back to the water.

When he drops the final two feet onto the rock, he turns to regard you. "You need to trust me. I'm not who you think I am."

"I'm not falling for it!" you say. "I'm not giving you the Stone of Vul-Kar!"

"I know that Professor Pop is not a moral man," Ligru says. "Therefore we need to work together if we want to get out of this situation!"

There is friendship in his words, but you sense a hidden violence in the way he is slowly advancing toward you, arms extended toward you almost like a Hollywood movie monster of old.

"I'm warning you!" you say. "Come any closer, and I'll drop this pack in the water!"

Ligru says nothing, but he continues his advance. One more step, and he'll be within arm's reach.

When he starts to take that step, you lower your shoulders and shrug. The pack slips off and falls in the water; the river is so loud you do not hear the splash.

Your foe looks horrified at what you have just done. By one simple action, you have changed the nature of the game from a struggle for control to what is sure to become a desperate race to locate and retrieve your pack before it gets buried in sediment or swept out to sea. But there is one thing you forgot to calculate: Ligru has a golden opportunity here to eliminate his major source of competition in that race.

His rage seems to impede his ability to string together words into a coherent sentence. "I… have had enough… of you!" he shouts, and to punctuate his statement he shoves you backward into the raging river.

The current immediately grabs you and drags you below the surface, where you begin to bounce off the submerged boulders like a pinball. Your body is never seen again.

As for your pack? Well, that's a another story….

THE END


When morning arrives, you awake with a start. You have been dreaming that Pop and Ligru are rummaging through your pack, tearing all the contents out while you lie there alert but helpless, as if frozen by fear or indecision. Only when they find the Stone of Vul-Kar do you reach for the pack — and the sudden spasm in your arm is what wakes you. But the pack is right there behind you, exactly as it was when you fell asleep.

"My, we're awfully worried about that pack." It's Pop, sitting in his former spot beside the fire as if he never went to bed. "Don't worry, we didn't touch it."

You sit up and brush some of the dirt off your legs and shorts. Not only is the college professor sitting casually beside the fire, his back reclining against his own turned-around pack — legs extended, hands clasping a tin cup filled with a warm beverage — but Ligru is once again tending the fire, using one stick to move around the charred pieces of wood to make room for more fuel. It is almost like it was when you first joined them, but now in daylight.

"I thought you'd be long gone by now," you say.

"Us?" Pop says. "What makes you say that?"

"You mentioned having a long hike ahead of you today," you say.

"Oh, that. That can wait. We didn't want to leave you behind, not after the experiences you've had."

"Don't worry about me," you insist. "I've gotten this far; I can take care of the rest."

"You never did answer my question last night," Pop says.

"Question?"

"Yes. Where are you trying to go?"

You look around the campfire and see that both men are watching you with much interest. Pop's words may be expressing a polite concern about your well being on the surface, but you sense there is an agenda lurking underneath. Or are you just overreacting to that accent of his? The campsite is now cleaned up, with no sign of the yellow pup tent. Instead you see two backpacks, both ready for the day's trek: Pop is using his as a backrest, and Ligru's is sitting next to the spear.

"I'm just trying to get off the island in one piece," you say, trying to add a note of vulnerability to your voice. You need to throw these two off the scent, if indeed they really do think you have the Stone of Vul-Kar. "The Wobans can keep this place. Life is too short as it is already to be spending it running from cannibals."

"Yes, I suppose it is. But then you knew the risks when you came here, right?"

"But—" you start to say.

"But nothing," Pop cuts you off. "You came here for a purpose. We all did. None of us are here on vacation, just to post selfies with the natives on Instagram."

"I don't follow…."

"Don't play dumb — and don't take us for fools." Pop's voice has grown suddenly firm. "You came here in search of something valuable — so valuable that you'd risk getting eaten by three-eyed savages, if that's what you had to do to find it."

"Well look, now," you say, summoning your inner indignation. "I have no idea what you're talking about. But you didn't go through what I did last night. I was held prisoner with two other people, and after they dragged them away I never saw them again. It was sheer luck that I was able to get away—"

"And I suppose it was also by sheer luck that you were able to get away with that pack of yours, too," Pop says.

Ligru seems to be watching this exchange from the sidelines, as if waiting for a cue to get involved. You decide you need to be more aggressive in this conversation, and put Pop on the defensive for a change.

"You're the expert on Polynesian culture, Pop. So you tell me, do you think maybe these people might have left my gear alone because of some superstition?"

"First off, these people most certainly aren't Polynesian," Pop says with a bit of a huff. "Or Micronesian, or Maori, or Hawaiian, or anything even closely related to any other human population."

"That's interesting," you say. "Then what exactly are the Wobans?"

"Certainly nothing that Cook ever laid eyes on," Pop says.

Ligru speaks up for the first time this morning. "Weren't you saying the Wobans were their own separate species, sir?"

"Well obviously," Pop says. "Show me another human population that averages 2.2 meters in height, has claw-like digits, and of course looks at the world through three fully-functional eyes. This throws the whole evolutionary tree into disarray. Some have proposed that this species be called Homo teroculos, but I suspect that the Wobans aren't members of the genus homo at all, but rather some heretofore unknown offshoot of paranthropus."

How easy it is to derail an academic type by feigning interest in their pet subject matter!

"There you go!" you say. "We can't expect rational human behavior from people who aren't even human."

"I wouldn't go that far," Pop says.

"You haven't been their prisoner. I have. If you want to know why I'm eager to get off this island, then feel free to continue right up this trail for another mile. It leads right to the village — you can't miss it. They'll be happy to have you."

"That is a good point, sir," Ligru says from across the fire.

"So if you don't mind, I need to get going," you say. "I'm sorry to have held you up for so long. After what I went through, all I want more than anything is to get back to the States and schedule an appointment with my therapist."

You stand up and lift your pack, ready to hoist it onto your shoulders.

"Hold it!" Pop says, standing too. "Ligru, pfft."

The professor makes a hooking motion with his left hand, and Ligru immediately drops the stick he has been twiddling and takes a position behind you.

"What is this about?" you say.

"Enough of this nonsense," Pop says. "It's time for all of us to drop the pretenses and get down to business."

"Business?" you say, trying to maintain the same air of innocence — but finding it's hard not to be intimidated with someone as big as Ligru standing right behind you.

"Yes, business. I doubt that's such a strange concept to someone such as yourself, no? Two days ago, a massively large yacht shows up and anchors itself off shore. I said to Ligru, 'My, there must be one hell of a wealthy person on that boat.' And Ligru said, 'I'll bet you they're here to look for the Stone of Vul-Kar.' Then sure enough, the next morning we watched as not one but two small boats zipped away toward shore. And from what I could see through my binoculars, one of those people looked a lot like you."

"So yeah, I came here on a boat," you say. "This is an island. How did you get here?"

"You, my friend, are a mercenary, hired by the wealthy elite. You don't even possess the authenticity to come here to advance your own goals, as I do. You are here for but one purpose: to enhance the ego of someone whose sense of entitlement already knows no bounds. I'm sure you will be made wealthy if your mission is a success — so wealthy you'd risk your life among the cannibals, as you say. And now you'd have me believe you are returning to your master empty-handed? That when you met adversity, you ran for your life? How do you think that will be received when you return to that big yacht?"

"Pop, you have one hell of an imagination."

"That very well may be. Nevertheless, I'm afraid we can't let you leave here without knowing what's in your pack. It's quite possible you are in possession of something that I need very much."

It occurs to you that this would be a good time to use that gun that Walter Berringer gave you yesterday. Unfortunately, that's still in the little book bag that Captain Mark loaned you… and you left that back in the Woban village when you were reunited with your own backpack. This leaves you in the awkward position of being forced to choose between unappealing options, in a game where you clearly have the weaker hand. Either you can cave and give these weird goons what they want, or you can make a run for it — hoping that Ligru isn't as scary as he looks.

__________________________________________________
> You run.
It's hard to see how you'd ever reach a favorable outcome by simply handing over the Stone of Vul-Kar. Pop was correct when he predicted Berringer's reaction should you return to the Big Papi empty-handed, with a story of getting outsmarted by a two-bit college professor and his pet student. You might just as well not return at all.

On the other hand, Ligru doesn't strike you as being nearly as fierce as Pop hopes he will be. Pop is here on Woban Island to advance his own cause, just as he admitted. Ligru, big as he is, is more of a wide-eyed tourist along for the ride. You assess him to be a gentle giant.

Therefore you gather up all your courage, turn, and run.

"Oh I can't believe this," you hear Pop saying behind you. "Ligru, you know what to do."

Last night you were worrying you had lost the trail in the dark. Now in the light of a new day, the route is right ahead of you — plain as can be. It occurs to you that you'll be easier to track that way, but you have no interest in running through the jungle on some random course. You may be rested after several hours of sleep, but you still haven't eaten anything, nor have you had anything to drink other than that whiskey. Essentially, the only fuel you have left is adrenaline, spurred by the desire to get off this nightmarish island ASAP.

When you hear no one's breath gaining on you from behind, you risk a quick look back. Ligru is indeed pursuing you, but he is not much of a runner. If you can maintain this pace, it looks like you have a good chance of outpacing him.

But while you're worrying about Ligru, your mind is not paying attention to where you're going. The brief moment you turn to look backward is long enough to do you in. Your right foot catches on a tree root extending into the trail, and your left can't get into position fast enough to keep you upright. The heavy pack is already throwing off your center of gravity, and to your eternal chagrin you are hurtling with your arms outstretched before you into a tree. The root that started all this never lets go of your boot, and you land with your knee at an awkward angle to the rest of your body. You expect to feel the pain of a torn ligament any moment now.

"Thank you for making this so easy," Ligru says when he catches up to you, that spear of his pointed at you.

"Ligru, I think I sprained my knee," you say. "Can you help me up?"

"We'll ask the professor for an ice pack when he gets here," is all he says. He holds the tip of his spear directly over you, preventing you from standing even if you could.

Pop takes his time joining the two of you on the trail. "Good work, Ligru! You'll get an A for this."

"Thank you, sir," your captor says.

"All right, let's get this over with," Pop says to you. "You're out of tricks. I know you have the Stone of Vul-Kar, so just give it to me."

"Pop, I twisted my knee!" you say. "You have to help me out of here."

"I have to? I'm not aware of any such obligation."

"So you're just going to leave me here unable to walk on my own?"

"Oh, don't exaggerate. I'm sure you'll hobble your way down to the beach eventually. That is, if the Wobans don't recapture you first."

"This is insane," you protest, but Pop is right: you are out of tricks.

"Unclip the belt on your pack," he says. "Look at how your knee is starting to swell. You're not going to be in any shape to carry all that extra weight anyway."

When you don't obey right away, Ligru jabs the spear into your shoulder.

"OK, OK," you say, unbuckling the pack's waist strap and letting it slip off your back.

The professor quickly steps in to take your pack. He is behind you when he releases the clips holding the top part down, and then pulls the drawstring to open the main compartment. Therefore you can't see him when he sees the Stone of Vul-Kar and lifts it for the first time.

"This is it?" Pop says.

"It's pretty!" Ligru says, still keeping you under the stone tip of his Woban spear.

"I suppose. But somehow I was expecting more."

The ingrate! He steals the most valuable gem on the island from you, and he complains about the way it appears.

"Are you happy now?" you say.

"Not yet," Pop replies, "but the path to my happiness is now becoming clearer."

"What do we do now, sir?" Ligru asks.

"Get out of here, of course. Let's go back and get our stuff. You can let this petaQ go so it can lick its wounds."

And so Pop and his sidekick leave you on the trail, your knee growing puffy and throbbing in pain. You try and stand, but immediately collapse in pain. Clearly you aren't going anywhere right away. The only consolation is that your pack is right where Pop left it; apparently the Stone of Vul-Kar really was the only thing he cared about.

You are not alone for long, though, because a few minutes later your tormentors come strolling back from their campsite. This time they are both wearing backpacks of their own, with Ligru holding his spear like a walking stick.

"You're getting nowhere fast," Pop says. "You should have that knee checked out. It looks painful."

"So you're really just going to leave me here?" you say.

"Look, here's what I'll do. I'll give you my business card, so that when you find a way out of here you can look me up. Maybe we can all get together someday and have a good laugh about all of this."

"Pop, you're mad!"

"Or maybe not. But here's my card anyway. It was nice meeting you."

He tosses a small business card as the two of them walk by. It spins like an out-of-control helicopter before landing beside you.

"Let's get out of here, Ligru, before any Wobans come along."

"Sounds like a good idea, sir."

"I'm in a good mood all of a sudden, so call me Professor."

"Yes, Professor!"

That is the last you hear of them as they disappear down the trail, leaving you immobilized and helpless. You grab your pack and begin searching its contents, looking for that bottle of ibuprofen you always keep stashed in one of the outer pockets. As you do so you remember the satellite phone with which you were supposed to call Berringer when you were ready to return to the yacht. Right now it's the lifeline you need to get yourself out of this predicament, although you're going to need to phrase your request very carefully.

While you're thinking about the best way to do approach that problem, you pick up the business card and read it:

MARTIAN POP
Adjunct Instructor
Niobrara Community College
South Springfield, NE

Oh, this is rich — you've just been bested by an instructor from some rinky-dink community college! In Nebraska! How are you going to explain this to the man who was going to pay you a million dollars for bringing back the Stone of Vul-Kar? It would almost be better if the Wobans got to you first.

THE END


This is no time to be taking chances with unknowns in the dark. You didn't work so hard to climb your way out of the pit just to risk getting drowned in some rapids. Besides, the strength in your arms is pretty much spent, and you're not sure how much use they would be when it comes to paddling a canoe. You are better off sticking to land, so you sketch out in your mind a rough plan to get down this trail as far as you can, find a place to take cover and get some sleep, and then reassess your situation in daylight.

It looks like the trail leading down the river is not too wide, suggesting that maybe you have lucked out and stumbled across one of the less well-traveled routes this time. Before you go too far, you fumble through your backpack, hoping Meredith didn't move your headlamp. It was in one of the upper pockets the last you saw it. Your hand feels several empty Clif Bar wrappers at first, but then it settles on the elastic band of the headlamp. You have no intentions of turning it on so close to the Woban village, but you do want to have it handy.

After putting the pack back on, you set off down the trail. It keeps close to the small river at first, which you can hear gurgling on your right, even if you can't always see it in the dark. There is one spot where the trail passes a large opening on the bank; you suppose the view must be stellar in the daylight, but now it's just "stellar" in the sense that you can see a sky full of stars above the calm water. The mountains you saw earlier are now inky silhouettes.

But you are not here to go sightseeing. You rush down the trail, with the river growing louder as you continue. Within minutes of passing the canoe you begin to hear splashes in the dark, suggesting you are no longer following a calm waterway, but a rugged and wild mountain stream. It's hard to imagine how useful the canoe would be here. The terrain is getting more rugged too; after almost tripping over the fifth unseen rock, you concede to the reality of your situation and flip on the headlamp. Hopefully there are no Wobans around to see this unnatural beam of light you're about to cast about their jungle.

It's a good thing that you did, though, because the trail is now going down an increasingly steep slope, with more roots and rocks in your way than you suspected. There is also a distinct roar somewhere up ahead, suggesting that you are nearing a powerful cataract. Indeed, a few minutes later you reach the top of a precipitous drop in the terrain, where both the river and the trail descend a massive rock ledge that must span the width of the valley. For the river, this means a waterfall of at least fifty feet, ending with a plunge into a boulder-filled pool.

The trail around the falls isn't less steep by any means. Rather than the free-fall made by the water, your route is a slower and carefully-controlled descent down a series of ledges — which might even appear like a giant staircase if you were, say, sixty feet tall. This is certainly a more extreme hike then you would normally prefer to make at [checking wristwatch] 12:48 A.M., and you would be more than happy to find that hiding spot any time now. The problem is, though, that when you reach the bottom of the ledges, the trail continues steeply down a rocky slope. Even if you did find a spot to stop, you'd probably go a-tumbling down the hill if you fell asleep in a place like this.

So you continue to work your way off the mountain. Despite your downhill direction, it is still a very laborious effort due to the rocks in your way that make your footing very unreliable; one misstep and you'll go sliding on your butt to a very painful landing. There is no way you could have successfully negotiated this terrain without the aid of the headlamp — although at this point you can't even tell if you're still on the trail. For all you know, the trail made a turn you didn't see, and now you're proceeding in some random direction.

But then, as you near what might be the bottom of this long and treacherous slope, your heart stops when you see another light ahead through the trees. For a second you think it's just the light of your own headlamp reflecting off the water, but that can't be; with all of the meanderings to avoid the steepest parts of the slope, you have wandered some distance away from the river. Then as you scrutinize the phenomenon a bit more closely, you see two people sitting around a small campfire. You can forgive yourself for not making the identification sooner, as there are quite a few trees between you and the campsite, and this is the last place you'd expect to find backpackers — not that these people are likely to be your average weekend warriors.

You immediately turn off your headlamp, but it's too late: the other people turn on their headlamps and come rushing toward you.

"Who's there?"

You have to admit, you are relieved to hear English instead of Wobani, but nevertheless you remain on high alert. It's hard to imagine encountering anyone helpful on this island.

The beams of light cast by their two headlamps quickly zero in on you. "You're in an awful hurry to get somewhere," the same voice says. "And might I add, why are you coming down the mountain? Most everybody else here is trying to get up it."

What's that supposed to mean? Have these two mysterious night lurkers figured out just by circumstance that you have the Stone of Vul-Kar in your possession? Or was that some kind of an attempt at humor?

__________________________________________________
> You run.
"Sorry," is all you say as you try and push past these people — but you are almost stopped by the second person, who very much appears to be a Woban, both in terms of physical size and dress. Because of the blinding glow of his headlight you can't count the number of eyes, but the grass skirt and tattooed torso make you wonder.

"What's the rush?" the other man says. You only get a very quick impression of him: short, dressed in a green-checked shirt with brown trousers, round glasses, the beginnings of a dark beard.

But you are convinced that hanging out here and interacting with these people — on this island, at this time of the night — will result in nothing but trouble, so without any further hesitation you run. The terrain seems to be taking a break from its steep descent at the moment, so you are able to dash into the darkness, away from the glow of the little campfire, without feeling the immediate threat of falling off a small cliff in the dark. You don't even know where the trail is at this point; you are just running because — after all that has happened since you've landed on this island — trusting strange people is not your first choice.

"Ligru, go and find out what was in that backpack," you hear the unshaved man say behind you. "Do what you will with the body."

All right, that settles it. You really do need to get out of here. The question is where, though? At first you run for distance, just trying to get beyond the reach of the headlamps. But you're in a forest in the dark, with your own headlamp turned off to remain invisible. Your right shoulder hits a tree hard, almost knocking you off balance. And then you start to thrash through a bush that you can't see. Keep this up, and your pursuer won't need a headlamp to find you.

So you drop to the ground and try to be as still as possible. By some miracle the big man with the grass skirt is not right behind you. In fact, both men seem befuddled.

"We weren't just imagining this, were we Ligru?" the short man says.

"I don't think so, Professor," the big man says. In the glow of each other's lights, you can see now that he only has two eyes. Not a Woban.

"We were imbibing rather heavily, and right now I'm not even sure if I can continue standing."

"Yes, you were enjoying the bottle, sir."

"So were you! I didn't drink this all by myself," the professor says. "Now help me back to my tent, before I pass out here."

"Yes, sir."

So this is interesting. The pursuit was cut short because the people pursuing you are drunk. As you lie on your stomach over a hundred feet away, partially hidden by some lacy vegetation, you watch as Ligru — the big man in the grass skirt — helps Professor So-and-So with the eastern European accent back toward a little pup tent next to the campfire. "Is there any more of that whiskey?" the professor asks. "I think you've had enough," you think you hear Ligru reply, but they are so far away and speaking so softly that you're not entirely sure.

With the professor safely stowed inside the tent, Ligru sits beside the fire in silent contemplation. He picks up a glass bottle, twists off the stopper, and takes a big swig. Apparently the whiskey bottle was not quite as empty as he had let on.

So the crisis seems to have passed. Or has it? You are lying on your belly just a short distance from the campsite, unseen only because you were smart enough to stop running and lie still. Before their impairment took over, you distinctly heard this professor give the order to take your pack and dispose of your body. So clearly you are not among friends.

But now what? Just keep lying here until Ligru passes out too? Or if everyone is drunk over there, is it safe to just scoot away right now?

__________________________________________________
> You scoot away.
You need to get out of here; the idea of just lying here is absurd. But where should you go? You have no idea where the trail is, and you are certainly not going to wander around in the dark looking for it. Your descent down the steep, rocky slope diverted you away from the small river you had been following, which you can now hear about a quarter-mile away. Lacking a more definitive option, you decide to head toward the water. If nothing else, the river is in the opposite direction from the campsite.

Instead of standing, you decide to crawl backwards. This way, if Ligru reacts you will know immediately, and you will be able to lie right back down. You just wish you knew what was behind you. Taking a few cautious steps, one foot brushes a rock, so you adjust course. Ligru doesn't move. You back up some more, bumping into a small tree a moment later. Still Ligru doesn't move.

Then you notice that you are going down a hill, and if you go far enough you'll be out of sight of the campsite. This could be a good development. Taking one last look at Ligru, you begin to suspect that he may be asleep even as he sits by the fire; even though his eyes are pointed straight at you, they haven't seen a thing in some time.

So why all this crawling, then? You stand up and run down the hill, turning on your headlamp to see your way. A galaxy of whitish green leaves and silvery tree trunks surround you, whizzing by as you run for your life, hoping for at least one time tonight to find a spot on this whole big island not occupied by somebody else. How far must you go? Will a mile be enough? Two? Maybe you should keep right on going until you reach the Pacific Ocean, and hope Captain Mark has another runabout he can use to pick you up.

You stop to look behind you, relieved to see no beams of light as Ligru and his professor friend chase after you. There are such things as small mercies after all. But you've covered all of maybe a hundred yards; you want to be where neither they nor anyone else will ever find you come daylight.

The hill becomes steeper again, and it becomes clear that you are heading into a V-shaped section of the river valley. The stream no longer sounds distant, but like a living force gushing through the heart of the night. It occurs to you that its banks might not be a horrible place to hide; the rapids are so noisy that you won't hear anyone coming, but then no one will hear you moving about, either. On the other hand, from what you can see the terrain directly ahead of you looks like it might be forbiddingly steep. Maybe it would be better to keep to higher ground, contouring at this same elevation above the river where the terrain is less rugged.

__________________________________________________
> You keep to higher ground.
If descending that steep slope toward the river really was a viable option, then it's just proof that you're not thinking straight anymore. What a night it's been! Except for when you were knocked unconscious by the Wobans and tossed in the pit — which you're pretty sure doesn't count — you haven't slept since you left the Big Papi, and that was nearly twenty hours ago. Since then you've sentenced a man to death by cannibalism, escaped the confines of the pit by sheer strength, and dodged an inglorious murder at the hands of a drunk professor and his guide. In between all of those episodes you climbed partway up the mountain, and lately you've been running down it in the dark. You haven't eaten anything since… well, have you eaten at all? You can't remember anymore.

The point is, you're getting to the point where you can't trust yourself to make the right decisions. You better find a safe place to stop soon, or in your deliriousness you might just plummet off some unseen cliff.

You decide to follow the side of the hill, keeping the river well below you and to your right. It churns wildly in the darkness, like a wild beast that would be eager to chew you up if you got too close, so the act of keeping to the hillside seems like walking through a zoo as a hungry tiger stalks you on the other side of the bars.

The end begins when you stumble over small roots, getting angry that they placed themselves in your way. Then you walk into a branch that scuffs the side of your forehead pretty roughly. There is no blood, but it burns like hell. Next you slip on a wet stick on the ground that you never even saw, landing hard on your tailbone.

But you can't stop here, because the hillside is too slanted. Instead of descending a steep hillside like you considered a short time ago, you are now walking across the face of one. There was probably a point where you should have veered left and gone around some knoll or something, but it's too dark to see these things, and your brain is too tired to process the information even if you had seen it. So here you are, side-sloping across some steep hillside, with no idea what you're walking toward.

Therefore when you come to a spot where the hillside before you simply disappears, you're impressed with yourself for seeing it. You didn't just walk out into empty space and tumble into oblivion. Good job! But now what are you supposed to do?

Shining the headlamp about, you see that the path of an old mudslide lies directly ahead of you, where a slice of the hill slipped into the valley after a heavy downpour. Can you walk out straight across it? That would be the shortest route, but in your state do you dare? You have no way of knowing how stable the slope is.

The next best option is to go up and around this thing. So yes, after everything else you've done today, it looks like you can add bushwhacking up a steep slope in the dark to avoid a mudslide to your list of accomplishments. That guy back on the boat, Whats-his-face, isn't paying you enough. This whole mission is nuts.

Nothing but thin brush grows along the edge of the mudslide, and the soil is still unstable along the point where the face of the hill was torn apart. And this, of course, is where you are climbing in hopes of finding a way around the obstacle. When your right foot misses its mark and slides into space, your left foot is unable to find anything solid to grip. The sapling in your hands is bending under your weight, and at any rate you lack the arm strength to hold onto it — that was all used up after the piton episode.

And so you slip away into the mudslide, finding it to still be a gooey mess. You are like a fly trapped in a bowl of Betty Crocker cake mix. Efforts to slow your descent have no effect, and before you know it part of the hillside is falling with you. When everything comes to rest at the bottom, where all of the mud and trees in the path of the slide were piled up in a debris pile forty feet deep, you finally get the rest you have been seeking — buried under a ton of newly dislodged mud.

THE END


You need to get out of here; the idea of just lying here is absurd. But where should you go? You have no idea where the trail is, and you are certainly not going to wander around in the dark looking for it. Your descent down the steep, rocky slope diverted you away from the small river you had been following, which you can now hear about a quarter-mile away. Lacking a more definitive option, you decide to head toward the water. If nothing else, the river is in the opposite direction from the campsite.

Instead of standing, you decide to crawl backwards. This way, if Ligru reacts you will know immediately, and you will be able to lie right back down. You just wish you knew what was behind you. Taking a few cautious steps, one foot brushes a rock, so you adjust course. Ligru doesn't move. You back up some more, bumping into a small tree a moment later. Still Ligru doesn't move.

Then you notice that you are going down a hill, and if you go far enough you'll be out of sight of the campsite. This could be a good development. Taking one last look at Ligru, you begin to suspect that he may be asleep even as he sits by the fire; even though his eyes are pointed straight at you, they haven't seen a thing in some time.

So why all this crawling, then? You stand up and run down the hill, turning on your headlamp to see your way. A galaxy of whitish green leaves and silvery tree trunks surround you, whizzing by as you run for your life, hoping for at least one time tonight to find a spot on this whole big island not occupied by somebody else. How far must you go? Will a mile be enough? Two? Maybe you should keep right on going until you reach the Pacific Ocean, and hope Captain Mark has another runabout he can use to pick you up.

You stop to look behind you, relieved to see no beams of light as Ligru and his professor friend chase after you. There are such things as small mercies after all. But you've covered all of maybe a hundred yards; you want to be where neither they nor anyone else will ever find you come daylight.

The hill becomes steeper again, and it becomes clear that you are heading into a V-shaped section of the river valley. The stream no longer sounds distant, but like a living force gushing through the heart of the night. It occurs to you that its banks might not be a horrible place to hide; the rapids are so noisy that you won't hear anyone coming, but then no one will hear you moving about, either. On the other hand, from what you can see the terrain directly ahead of you looks like it might be forbiddingly steep. Maybe it would be better to keep to higher ground, contouring at this same elevation above the river where the terrain is less rugged.

__________________________________________________
> You descend toward the river.
This journey needs to come to an end in the shortest distance possible. Consider all that you have done today: climbed the ridge, dodged the first three Wobans only to get ambushed by the next five, climbed out of the pit using the sheer strength of your arms, found the Stone of Vul-Kar, climbed down the mountain, and evaded a drunk-but-murderous professor. The jury might still be out on that last item, but the prospects are looking good at the moment. The point is, you've had a full day, and you're entitled to a little bit of rest. You're becoming worried that you aren't thinking clearly anymore, and in your lack of sleep you might be getting a little delirious.

So you proceed forward, heading straight down toward the river on the most direct route. As with the section of trail around the waterfall, it looks as though you have a series of rock ledges in your way, and so this is not going to be an easy descent. But it does look like it might be worth the effort, as you can faintly see what looks like a bench of flat ground below, at the further reaches of your headlamp's beam of light.

There is no point in wasting time, so you take the first step…

The results are disastrous. Your boot slips on a sheet of wet leaves spread across the first rock ledge in your path. It goes out from underneath you, and desperately you turn, looking for something to grasp onto. But there are no branches or anything else within arm's reach, and so your momentum carries you over the edge.

The first drop is only about six vertical feet, so when you first make contact with the ground nothing is wounded but your pride. But your fall isn't over yet. The ground is slanted steeply downward, and so you continue sliding, bouncing off trees like a pinball. It gets worse when you hit a large root and go briefly airborne again, landing on your backpack. Now you aren't sliding down the escarpment, you're rolling. And when you hit the next big ledge about twenty-five feet below the first you are going even faster than before. Your headlamp flies in one direction, you another. The landing is brutal.

Your body doesn't come to a full stop until it slams hard into the trunk of a tree, halfway down the slope. The headlamp lands twelve feet away, its switch still in the "on" position. The LED is an efficient little light, and the batteries were fully charged that night you packed your gear on the Big Papi. So with no one to turn off the switch, it shines for several days and nights before slowly dimming and going dark, long after you have done the same.

THE END


"Sorry," is all you say as you try and push past these people — but you are almost stopped by the second person, who very much appears to be a Woban, both in terms of physical size and dress. Because of the blinding glow of his headlight you can't count the number of eyes, but the grass skirt and tattooed torso make you wonder.

"What's the rush?" the other man says. You only get a very quick impression of him: short, dressed in a green-checked shirt with brown trousers, round glasses, the beginnings of a dark beard.

But you are convinced that hanging out here and interacting with these people — on this island, at this time of the night — will result in nothing but trouble, so without any further hesitation you run. The terrain seems to be taking a break from its steep descent at the moment, so you are able to dash into the darkness, away from the glow of the little campfire, without feeling the immediate threat of falling off a small cliff in the dark. You don't even know where the trail is at this point; you are just running because — after all that has happened since you've landed on this island — trusting strange people is not your first choice.

"Ligru, go and find out what was in that backpack," you hear the unshaved man say behind you. "Do what you will with the body."

All right, that settles it. You really do need to get out of here. The question is where, though? At first you run for distance, just trying to get beyond the reach of the headlamps. But you're in a forest in the dark, with your own headlamp turned off to remain invisible. Your right shoulder hits a tree hard, almost knocking you off balance. And then you start to thrash through a bush that you can't see. Keep this up, and your pursuer won't need a headlamp to find you.

So you drop to the ground and try to be as still as possible. By some miracle the big man with the grass skirt is not right behind you. In fact, both men seem befuddled.

"We weren't just imagining this, were we Ligru?" the short man says.

"I don't think so, Professor," the big man says. In the glow of each other's lights, you can see now that he only has two eyes. Not a Woban.

"We were imbibing rather heavily, and right now I'm not even sure if I can continue standing."

"Yes, you were enjoying the bottle, sir."

"So were you! I didn't drink this all by myself," the professor says. "Now help me back to my tent, before I pass out here."

"Yes, sir."

So this is interesting. The pursuit was cut short because the people pursuing you are drunk. As you lie on your stomach over a hundred feet away, partially hidden by some lacy vegetation, you watch as Ligru — the big man in the grass skirt — helps Professor So-and-So with the eastern European accent back toward a little pup tent next to the campfire. "Is there any more of that whiskey?" the professor asks. "I think you've had enough," you think you hear Ligru reply, but they are so far away and speaking so softly that you're not entirely sure.

With the professor safely stowed inside the tent, Ligru sits beside the fire in silent contemplation. He picks up a glass bottle, twists off the stopper, and takes a big swig. Apparently the whiskey bottle was not quite as empty as he had let on.

So the crisis seems to have passed. Or has it? You are lying on your belly just a short distance from the campsite, unseen only because you were smart enough to stop running and lie still. Before their impairment took over, you distinctly heard this professor give the order to take your pack and dispose of your body. So clearly you are not among friends.

But now what? Just keep lying here until Ligru passes out too? Or if everyone is drunk over there, is it safe to just scoot away right now?

__________________________________________________
> You stay put.
You've pushed your luck enough so far, and you are not eager to push it any farther. Ligru does not see you, and perhaps thinks you might have been a figment of his inebriated imagination. Why risk giving him evidence of your presence by moving once more through the jungle? Maybe you can sneak away in a moment… if he too passes out from enjoying too much whiskey. But not before.

So you lie in place, with your pack still on your back, and with your belly and your knees resting in the mud. If the Woban villagers up the mountain were of the "early to bed" mentality, Ligru here seems to see things differently. You watch with dismay as he tosses some more sticks onto the campfire and sits back down beside it, as if he can't get enough of this whole "camping out" thing. But who is he, though, if not a Woban? Maybe he's from neighboring Auri Island, just a few nautical miles away. From what you remember, the people there were similar to Wobans, with the exception of the third eye.

You catch yourself yawning as you wait for Ligru to fall asleep. But he is just sitting there, as if mesmerized by the flames. You keep watching, but there is nothing to watch. So when your eyes shut the first time, and then reopen to see Ligru hasn't moved from the log against which he is sitting, you can't tell how much time has passed. But having dozed just for that second or two, your stressed-out brain and physically-exhausted body want more of it. Your eyes start to shut again, you want to fight it but it's hard to find a good reason why, especially since you seem to be watching a statue who can hold his liquor remarkably well, and before you know it you are the one who is falling asleep….

When you awake it is morning, your pack is off but you are snuggled up next to it, still lying on the muddy ground somewhere between the Woban village and the island's shoreline. You hear the roar of the small river about a quarter of a mile away.

Crap. You never meant to stay here until daylight. Taking a quick look around, you see the campsite right where it was when you passed out. And Ligru is still there, sitting beside the remains of a campfire that has long since burned out.

It never occurred to you until now that perhaps the reason he wasn't moving was because he had fallen asleep sitting up. At least, that certainly seems to be the case now. Hopefully he'll remain so until you can get away. Crap, crap, crap.

There are so many things right now your body would rather be doing: peeing, eating, drinking coffee, or better yet, going back to sleep. But your brain is perceiving grave danger, and so instead you stand slowly and hoist your pack back onto your shoulders. With the Stone of Vul-Kar inside, it feels unusually heavy — but this is no time to gripe about that. Crap, what a situation this is. You look around; once upon a time you had been following a trail, but you have no idea where that is now. The river — you need to follow the river. Forget the trail, at least for now.

So you start to back away — one step, two steps, three. Ligru is still seated in that same position, as if it were still nighttime and the fire was still burning. If his eyes were open, he'd be looking right at you.

What now — run? Yeah, sure, that idea sounds as good as any. So you turn — and stumble right into a rock. Reflexively you try and break your fall by grabbing onto the nearest branch, but this turns out to be a small bush that rattles its leaves loudly as you tug on it. You fall anyway, your feet kicking up in the air, and a bird squawks as it flies from a hidden nest inside the bush. Holy crap.

You have no idea what to expect now when you look back toward the campsite, and you're not sure you even want to. But you do anyway.

Ligru is standing now. "Hey, it's you!" he says, is voice a tad hoarse. And then he remembers the order he was given. "Give me that pack!"

You hear a voice from inside the tent. "Ligru, will you keep it down?" But the guide is on the run, snatching a pole that had been jammed upright in the ground and coming straight at you. Holy mother of a crap.

You try to run, but it is of course now too late. The Auri guide easily outruns you, and by swiping that pole at your legs he brings you down before you can get ten yards. When next you look up, you see that the pole is indeed a spear, with a massive sharpened rock at its tip. The spear is aimed at your heart, and the Auri brings it down for the coup de grâce.

After a few last spasms from your wretched body, Ligru flips you over to examine your pack. He opens the top and pulls out the Stone of Vul-Kar, smiling. It is quite the prize to present to his employer — and they'll never even have to climb the mountain.

THE END