Author Notes: Thanks for the support! And also to volley for pointing out that very painful typo:)

Chapter 3

As the trio picked their way through the dense trees, Trip allowed his mind to wander. Archer was beginning to support more of his weight on his good leg as both stubbornness and determination began to override the pain. Malcolm pressed on ahead of them, lightly negotiating the terrain as if it was second nature. The smaller man hadn't said anything that day, and Trip recognised the look on his face – at some point, Malcolm had passed the stage of pessimism and now had one single goal to survive this, cutting all emotions out of the equation. Trip wished he could do the same. As a naturally optimistic person, he was finding it increasingly difficult to stay positive. He swallowed, trying to get the sticky feeling out of his mouth and throat, "Malcolm!"

The cry was a call for a stop, with no urgency laced in the tone, so the Lieutenant turned around curiously. Archer frowned too, "We only stopped about an hour ago, Trip, and I'm still good for a while yet."

Trip shook his head, "Enough is enough – we're desperate now."

Malcolm sighed, while Archer's expression only deepened in confusion, "What are you talking about?"

"Water. We need water. We don't have running water, we don't have purification tablets, but right now, I don't think we can afford to be fussy."

Malcolm nodded, "Wait there a second, Commander." Without even asking for permission, Malcolm began scaling one of the tallest trees in the vicinity. Before Trip or Archer could even yell that he was going to break his neck, Malcolm had jumped back down to the ground, clutching something.

"What's that?"

Malcolm showed them, "Leaves. They've got a waxy, waterproof surface to allow water to run off quickly." He twisted one leaf into a cone-like shape, "Not fool-proof, but it'll have to do."

It took a while to locate an adequate source, which turned out to be an ancient, gnarled tree, riddled with knots and small areas in which water had collected. It tasted foul, but they were so thirsty, it barely touched their tongues. Archer didn't even want to think about what kind of bacteria lived in it, he was just grateful.

They moved on, the lack of a true destination really starting to play on their minds. They had been walking for at least another hour when Malcolm suddenly froze without any warning. Archer and Trip exchanged looks, and one was about to yell out when Malcolm suddenly backed up until he was a metre away, and in one smooth movement bent down, drew the knife and stood back up, tense.

Archer swallowed, whispering, "Lieutenant?"

Malcolm merely shook his head, listening. And then Trip worked it out too, "Where've the animals gone?"

Silence reigned, as if time stood still. A scream suddenly split through the forest, almost human in quality, and a hideous winged creature, with teeth and claws that by all rights were way too big and sharp, soared through the trees only metres away from them, and settled on some low branches. In its claws was a furry creature about the size of a deer – the source of the scream - which it began tearing into, seemingly oblivious to the humans. Warily holding the knife, Malcolm muttered, mostly to himself, "I guess we're not injured enough yet."

Trip forced his constricted throat to take breath, "What?"

"We're not a target for prey."

"You said, 'yet'."

"I know." Without another word, Malcolm began once again picking a route through the trees, giving the gorging creature a wide berth.

"Trip." The low whisper brought Trip out of his light sleep. He opened his eyes, momentarily disorientated in the darkness.

"What? Malcolm?" What was the Lieutenant doing in his quarters? He sat up, the world rushing back in the dim moonlight. "Damn."

"Are you okay, Commander?" Malcolm worried face was half illuminated in the silver glow, giving it a ghostly look, reflecting his tired eyes. "If you want, I could take your shift."

Trip cut him off, "Don't be daft. You should sleep." He shook his head lightly to regain full alertness, shivering slightly. It might just have been his imagination, but the nights seemed to be getting colder with the waxing moon, or maybe it was just the fact that during the day they worked up a heat. A light drizzle hung in the air, clinging to his skin, but not making him more than damp. He glanced over to where Archer was curled, breathing softly. Although his leg had gotten no better, Jon had definitely been pushing away the pain and just getting on with everything, especially since the near miss of the giant bat creature a few days ago. He was beginning to reassume the command of the situation, at least to the point where he was willing to take watch, even if Malcolm wouldn't let him, on supposedly tactical grounds.

The Lieutenant in question settled himself against a tree, in what was probably the most uncomfortable sleeping position Trip could imagine. He suspected it was a mix between Malcolm's instincts of not wanting his back exposed, and his desire to stay awake, just in case. Trip smiled, settling himself crossed legged on some damp moss. While that might have been possible a few nights ago, they were all now so exhausted that sometimes Trip thought that Archer was actually sleep walking during the day.

Absently, Trip allowed his mind to wander back to the Enterprise, wondering what they were doing. He hoped they hadn't sent another shuttle, and that T'Pol had figured out why they had crashed. He trusted his team, and the rest of Enterprise, to get them out of this mess. All that they had to do was get out of range of this energy thing. Trip snorted quietly, yeah right, 'all'. Sure, Starfleet personnel trained for this sort of thing, but there was always a rescue team and a radio if you got into real trouble. He supposed they should be thankful that the crash hadn't left them worse off than it had; one broken leg, no supplies and a bit of smoke inhalation. All in a day's work.

The animals around them quietened, heralding the coming dawn as the nocturnal creatures went to sleep. Trip frowned. A faint sound could be heard through the darkness. He frowned, trying to pinpoint it. It was the sound of running water. It was there for a few minutes, before it was drowned out by the sounds of animals of the day waking up. Truly grinning for the first time in a long while, Trip quickly woke up Malcolm and Jon. "We're near the river! I heard it before dawn."

Archer's expression immediately matched Trip's, while Malcolm was more reserved, "You're sure?"

"God, Malcolm, yes. It's right on our path, I'm sure of it."

Archer began to rise, using the tree for support, "Then we're going in the right direction! The shuttle's path ran at a right angle to the river."

Trip shook his head, "No, it was very hard to tell. The river ran a very snaky path. It meandered a lot. We passed in sight of it a few times."

Malcolm sighed, "So either we're going in the right direction…"

Archer sighed, "Or completely the wrong way."

Trip nodded. He neglected to mention that, if they were going to continue this path, in all likelihood they would have to cross the river. He hoped it wasn't too wide, because otherwise, they'd never get Archer across.

They made their way in the direction of where Trip had heard the river. Jon was using the walking stick far more, only occasionally grabbing Trip or Malcolm for support. This made Trip worry. It was too early for the leg to be healing, which meant that the leg was likely going numb. That was not good. The path to the river took most of the day, but they only stopped once to eat. A day ago, hunger had pushed them to sample some of the berries that grew in increasing abundance in the vegetation. Thankfully, the small orange fruits had turned out to be edible, mainly due to Malcolm's observation skills when it came to the eating habits of the small birds of the planet.

Finally, they reached the river. The noise that Trip had heard had not been the roaring of river rapids, but the crashing of water hitting a plunge pool as it fell in a gorge. The men's path had led them to a sort of ledge, halfway between the river above, and the pool below. Due to the natural headward erosion of the river, the water had cut into the rock behind it, creating a slight ledge behind the cascading water. Archer weighed the options. There was no way he would be able to climb up to cross the river above, and down would be almost as hard. Besides, if they did either of those options, Malcolm would have to swim, and that would be an all round bad idea, especially if the man panicked, which would be in all likelihood the inevitable outcome. "So we cross using the ledge." Archer said his decision out loud.

Trip looked doubtful, "Erm…bad plan?"

"You got a better one?" Archer shot back to his friend. Malcolm said nothing, only staring at the plunge pool below where the water foamed white.

Trip shook his head, and sighed, "Fine. How are we going to do this?"

Archer regarded the ledge analytically, "Me and Malcolm cross first. If the Lieutenant is closest to the rock face, he can anchor us when it gets slippery."

Trip shook his head, "That ledge ain't big enough for two people to walk side by side."

Archer gave him a lop-sided grin, "But we only have three legs. You follow after."

Trip folded his arms, "Again, bad plan. I think we could make it down. Then we could help you swim across."

Archer was about to berate Trip for his insensitivity to Malcolm's phobia, when he stopped himself, looking at the Lieutenant in shock. After everything they had been through, considering the friendship those two had formed over the years, had he really been the only one Malcolm had told? The Lieutenant didn't meet his eyes. Then again, Archer reasoned, Malcolm had been convinced that he was going to die at the time, so he had probably presumed it didn't matter. Well, he wasn't going to break Malcolm's trust now, "I personally don't want to know what kind of fish with sharp teeth live in there, so we'll be doing it this way, okay?" Trip rolled his eyes, not noticing Malcolm's shoulders visibly relax. Archer sighed, "Let's get this over with."

The process was slow and jarring. More than once, both men almost slipped and fell. It was only Malcolm's iron grip on the rock, likely fuelled partly by fear, that kept them on the ledge. Finally, they made it across. Gently, Malcolm helped Archer sit against a tree, and then stepped partly back onto the ledge to yell over, "We've crossed! Come on!"

Trip tentatively began his path across. He pressed his body against the rock, using both hands to pull himself along, sidestepping. He had made it halfway when he suddenly slipped in the spray. His head cracked against the rock, and his grip was lost. Malcolm and Jon watched in horror as Trip plunged unconscious into the water below.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: I actually paid enough attention in geography to include a competent study of rivers. Be afraid, be very afraid. Anyway, please let me know your thoughts!