In the twilight down in the very depth of the forest the two explorers trudged through the dangerous landscape. They left a small note under the sleeping form of Challenger and had covertly signalled the tree house as to his whereabouts. To keep them all safe, they needed to keep from them. With all the changing of the plateau any maps were dangerous to follow, to find the explorers one would literally have to stumble onto them, this was clearly beneficial for the seasoned pair.

The hunter did not like leaving their family, nor the cowardice of escaping, but he loved his Marguerite and at any cost would keep them together. They were traveling to nowhere and everywhere at once. Their supplies were few, but in survival mode they would out surpass numbers. For the most part he would lift her onto his shoulders due to her decreased strength. The searched for alternative housing far from the watchful eyes in the jungle.

Near daybreak the hunter came across a small inlet and a rushing waterfall. He begrudgingly let the heiress down and allowed her to walk freely.

Really Roxton, I'm fine.' The hunter gave her a choice expression and went about filling their canteens. After hours of travel the bubbling river seemed like a godsend to the disgruntled Marguerite. She carefully stripped of almost all of her clothing, tactfully leaving on camisole and short-cut bloomers. When she had fully submerged herself, the hunter stripped of his extra clothes and dove into the warm tropical waters. The two splashed like schoolchildren and watched the bevies of fish swirl around their ankles. They were swimming impossibly close to one another, letting the isolation get the better of them. For once Marguerite instinctively swam closer to her hunter, and didn't stiffen when he offered to steady her tiring limbs. The two shared blissful carefree moments while they could. When Roxton's hand wove into her hair, Marguerite leaned forward and kissed her hunter with a passion unsurpassed by time. They pressed together, feeling that any space between them was unforgivable, and treaded water for what seemed to be millennia.

When John broke the kiss, the two heaved mighty breaths as they looked into the early morning sky. They swam towards their makeshift shower and together felt the mighty beat of the nature. Then out of the corner of his eye the hunter spotted a crevice behind their waterfall, a small cave completely hidden from sight.

'Are you crazy? John, John put me down!" the heiress shrieked as Roxton picked her up soundly and made to climb the steep bluff. The hunter just grunted and kept one hand steadying Marguerite and the other on the rock. He found foot holds and hand holds enough to make the descent relatively easy. When he had firmly placed her within the small den, he dove back down to the warm waters. Marguerite waited for what seemed to be hours, impatiently annoyed that she was abandoned once more. In her life, abandonment went hand in hand with love. In actuality the hunter had been gone half an hour and he returned with the rest of their clothes, packs and a small rabbit for dinner. They had to wait until night to light the fire, so the smoke would mingle with the mist emanating off their watery companion. They arranged the blankets and fell into an impossibly deep satisfying sleep. His arm with a pistol at her hip subconsciously protecting her from unwanted visitors.