Tick! Tock!

It's got to be here!' Landel yanked the crumpled map from his coat pocket, the carefully copied parchment that had been so pristine when they first set out on this insane venture was creased, damp, and food spotted.

     ''Well, unless it's invisible, or I've suddenly gone blind, then we're lost. Again!' Ferran swatted at a low hanging leaf three times bigger than her head and ended up getting rained on. 'Great! Now I'm wet and lost in a jungle that would like nothing better than to chew my face off while I die screaming!'

     Landel turned those dark eyes on her and tried a smile. 'I don't think lost is the right word, more like, temporarily waylaid. I'm sure I'll figure this map before anything bad happens...' He glanced at the metal shards and scattered bits of copper littering the blood flecked ground. 'Well, anything worse...'

     'You're a maniac,' Ferran snapped, trying not to shout just in case something out there was listening for prey. 'Our guide got eaten for the god's sake! By a mechanical tree! It's madness. We have to leave.'

     She tightened her grip on the machete she was forced to carry along with the rest of her gear and weapons. Constantly, she scanned the dense jungle, daring anything to try and rip her throat out.

     Landel placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. 'It's alright,' he whispered as if he didn't want to spook a nervous animal, or a woman who might well be tempted to chop his damned head off.

     Pulling away, Ferran shot him a glare. 'It won't work, Lan. That smile of yours is what got me into this mess, but I won't let it get me killed. I won't die out here, with no-one to care...'

     'I would.' Landel frowned, smudging some of the ingrained dirt that on him, merely darkened his olive complexion and highlighted his rugged features, while barely touching the linen of his shirt or that stupid felt coat of his.

     Ferran's mood took a nose dive into misery. 'Look at you, for Ulyses' sake! Doesn't anything stick to you? We've been out here for over a month. I'm a mud monster. Your clothes are barely creased...'

     Raising a hand, Landel cut her off mid-tirade. Ferran's mouth snapped shut and she gave him another hard stare that should have seared right through his skull, if he'd been paying attention.

     As it was, Landel was too busy staring through the gap in the foliage she made earlier, when there was still hope of getting out this Hel hole. He stepped closer. 'It can't be...' he muttered, pushing a way through...

     Ferran's fingers sought the blade at her side. Leather binding the hilt had darkened with sweat and blood, years of it, decades. Is she believed her mother's ravings, the knife was an old family heirloom.

     Which, she didn't. Ferran merely stole it from the kitchen drawer on her way out the door.

     Although, she was forced to admit, the Spell Forged blade of polished jet was handy enough that it saved their lives several times. Through her skill as a fighter, combined with the blade's prowess, and the dull vibrations it sent through her gloves, or against her hip, warned them in enough time that they avoided the danger when they could, and Ferran killed it when they couldn't.

     'I don't believe it,' Landel whispered. His back was facing her, so Ferran couldn't really see clearly what had caught his attention.

     'Bloody Hel,' she muttered and shoved her way past him...

     And froze like one of those living statues she'd heard of when she was dumb enough to believe in the horror stories the priests and her mother used to try and scare her with.