A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews... you people just astound me, y'know that? Never met a more supportive bunch then y'all. So, thank you. :D
A/N 2: Now this doesn't quite explain what's happening, but hey, c'mon, this is the Lost World... can't have the explanations before dear sweet George gets to have his fun figuring things out. :D Hopefully, y'all will get the hints though... something's not quite right on the plateau. :D
A/N 3: Third chapter should be ready hopefully by early next week, if not sooner. My normally wise eema, tralk of a muse is cooperating atm, and so far she's quite happy with the way things are going. :D Hopefully she'll keep things up so there isn't too much time between chapters. :D
Disclaimer: Please see Part One ((as Dani runs around with a crazed gleam in her eye... they're mine all mine all mine I tell you!!! ... Wait... wait... who are you people? What's with the white jackets? No really... I swear... they're mine! :P))
Phased and Confused
Part Two: Bleeding Wounds
By: Danae Bowen
Email: logansfox@rogers.com
Roxton's frown deepened as he reached the river and there was no sign of either woman. "Marguerite?" he called loudly, scanning the small riverbank as well as the expanse of water for her dark hair. When Marguerite continued to evade his sight, Roxton stepped forward, glancing first to the right and then the left, finally catching sight of the bodies of five raptors, obviously felled in the middle of an attack.
"Marguerite! Veronica!" Roxton's voice took on a desperate tinge as his heart began beating wildly in his chest. Running towards the bodies of the raptors, he quickly scanned the area, instantly catching sight of strips of Marguerite's blouse caught on the talons of one dead creature.
His face paled and a slight buzzing filled his ears as he froze in place, his mouth turning instantly dry. "Marguerite? Veronica?"
There are no signs that they had been dragged off, he told himself, instantly attempting to calm his racing mind. There is no blood, and no tracks from any other raptors. They're fine. They've likely just gone back to camp.
Forcing himself to take a deep, calming breath, he turned once more, scanning the clearing one final time to make sure that no signs of either the blonde jungle girl or his beloved, dark haired heiress remained. Finally satisfied, he turned, following the same route back through the jungle, if for no other purpose than to get Challenger so together they could find their missing women. Lord John Roxton was so intent on finding his missing companions that he never even noticed the tiny tingle that ran through his body; after all, it was only a shiver.
****
Marguerite's head shot up as she heard the rustling, watching the trees move almost imperceptibly, but nothing came towards her. She frowned, remaining on guard for another few moments until she was certain no raptors were going to descend on her vulnerable position.
She dipped her fingers delicately into the water, hissing sharply as she poured the cool liquid over the tears in her flesh, washing away dark rivers of blood. A shiver ran down her spine, and once again Marguerite's head jerked up; she couldn't shake the feeling someone else was on the "beach" with her.
"Roxton?" she tried quietly, scanning the tree line quickly. When no response came she raised her voice a little louder. "Veronica? Is that you?" Still she received no response, and she frowned. Shivers of awareness were coursing up and down Marguerite's spine, a feeling she got only when she was in danger, or when Roxton was near. Something wasn't quite right, and Marguerite's nerves were quite suddenly on edge. "This isn't very funny, you know!" She called to her non-existent company, but rather than continue with what she knew to be a ridiculous conversation, she returned to treating her wounds.
Long minutes passed and finally her wounds had slowed their weeping of red. Quickly, before they had a chance to open once again, Marguerite broke open the stems of the leaves Veronica had left her and began pouring the white sap down her back. Unable to reach exactly where the raptors claws had ripped into her, Marguerite had to rely on the force of gravity to carry the sap to where she needed it most. Trickle after trickle of white descended her pale flesh until the heiress was quite sure enough of her wounds had been covered to warrant wrapping her back.
A cursory glance about the clearing informed Marguerite that there was nothing available to turn into a makeshift bandage. Cursing her need to torture Roxton, thereby leaving behind her pack and change of clothing, Marguerite stormed across the clearing, dipping her body in behind a clump of out of the way bushes, coming up triumphantly with her previously ignored camisole. Glancing at the laces, Marguerite nodded. If she tightened the contraption far more than normal, it would make a decent wrapping for her back. She looked over her shoulder and sighed. That would only leave the rending on her shoulder open. Quickly lacing on her camisole, Marguerite hissed in pain as the harsh material rubbed up against her open wounds, but ignored the wave of weakness that flowed through her body in response. Quite the opposite, she returned to her place by the river, picking up her already damaged blouse and tore the sleeves from the nearly useless contraption. Wrapping the sleeves about her bleeding shoulder, she nodded in satisfaction before slipping the remains of her blouse over her body in an attempt at covering her body in a somewhat decent manner.
Having finished tending to her wounds, Marguerite found herself unable to remain by the riverbank. Her fingers twitched in her lap as she peered around the clearing, desperately hoping to see Veronica's blonde hair bobbing towards her, quickly followed by the handsome hunter that set Marguerite's heart to such a rapid beat. Still, the jungle remained quiet but for the birds and creatures scurrying about, carrying on their daily lives.
An hour passed, the sun changing positions drastically in the sky, and a new shiver traveled through Marguerite's body. With the setting of the sun, the night was growing cool, and Marguerite's damaged clothing was offering her no protection against the nip of the rising wind over the river. She had no means by which to make a fire, all her supplies still with Challenger and Roxton, and no blanket with which to cover herself. As the evening grew cooler still, Marguerite made up her mind. Danger or no danger, blood or no blood, she had to return to camp. If she didn't, she'd surely die of exposure before the explorers returned.
Her mind set, Marguerite rose carefully to her feet, her tender flesh complaining against the movement, but nothing she couldn't handle. With a determined step, she moved away from the clearing, stepping into the jungle where night seemed to fall that much quicker under the shroud of ancient trees.
*****
"Challenger! Roxton!" Veronica sped through the trees, her mind so intent on the men she missed a slightly submerged root, catching her foot, stumbling somewhat into the clearing that made up their evening camp. "Challenger!"
"Over here, Veronica." George Challenger's calm voice floated towards the blonde woman, even as she turned in surprise. His eyebrows raised in concern as he took in her state of concern, and he rose to his feet, catching her quickly in his arms. "Veronica, what's happened?"
She clutched him with relief, taking a moment to calm her breathing before stepping out of his fatherly embrace. "Raptors at the river bank. Where's Roxton? Didn't you hear the shots?"
"Gunshots? Lord no, or we'd certainly have come. Roxton left a half hour ago, I was under the impression he was going to find the two of you." He glanced over Veronica's shoulder into the density of the jungle. "Where's Marguerite?"
Veronica shook her head, running a hand through her wild hair. "I left her at the river bank; she was hurt in the attack and when you didn't come to see what happened, we thought you'd been attacked as well. We didn't want to run the risk of attracting further predators with the scent of her blood."
Challenger nodded, his brow now furrowed in concern as he moved to retrieve his pack from the center of camp. "How badly is she hurt? Can she walk? Will she be able to make it back this far?"
Veronica's breathing slowed as she fell into the familiar routine of Challenger's concern for his "children". "She'll be fine, I'm sure. I left her tending to her wounds, but I'm sure she'd be pleased if you had a look at them yourself. I'm more afraid of infection than anything else."
"Too true, my dear, too true." He slung his bag over his shoulder, wincing slightly as his rheumatism gave him pain, then nodded. "I'm ready then; lead on."
Veronica smiled. Until recently she never realized how comforting it was to have someone on which she could always depend... besides herself.
*****
Roxton's concern for his fellow explorers grew by leaps and bounds as he returned to their original campsite and found that not only hadn't the women returned, but Challenger was missing as well.
"Challenger!" he called into the surrounding jungle, believing perhaps the older man had lost patience in waiting for John to send Veronica back. When no response came, Roxton swallowed swiftly.
In an attempt to keep his accelerating heart calm, Roxton swiftly took inventory of their camp. Marguerite's and his packs remained exactly where he'd left them, but Challenger's pack, there only forty minutes before, was no longer in sight. A quick glanced confirmed that the elder man's most recent plant study remained unfinished.
A rustling in the woods caught Roxton's attention and he raised his head, glancing at the trees behind him. "Challenger?" he moved towards the trees, but realized even before he got there that whatever had been moving in the brush was moving away from the camp, not towards it.
Heading back to the center of camp, Roxton turned his eyes to the ground and took note of what he hadn't before. No out of place footsteps. No struggle. No blood. Wherever Challenger had gotten off to, he'd gone willingly.
Quick anger burned in Roxton's blood as he realized George Challenger had merely wandered off. Then his own examination of the clearing where the women had been came back to him. After the initial battle with the raptors, there appeared to be no other signs of struggle, leading him to believe they'd returned here. Marguerite and Veronica, too, had wandered off of their own accords.
"What the hell?" Roxton muttered to himself, glancing about the jungle for any signs of what could have brought this unlikely bout of wanderlust upon his companions. Glancing down at the most recent footprints, Roxton realized Challenger had left in the very same direction from which Roxton had come: towards the river. "What the hell?!"
With a groan, Roxton grabbed his pack off the ground and began to retrace his steps, cursing the now dimming light for hiding further clues from the experienced hunter.
*****
Marguerite carefully retraced her path from earlier, heading directly back to camp. When Veronica left, Marguerite noticed the jungle girl went through the brush rather than their already tread trail, but fearing further predators, as well as getting lost, Marguerite decided to stay with the tried and true.
It took her less than ten minutes to return to the campsite, finding it, as she feared, completely deserted. Her quick eyes noticed that only her pack remained in camp, everyone else's had been taken wherever they'd gone. She frowned, an old fear creeping into her heart that perhaps this entire journey had been a real life Hansel and Gretel nightmare: an attempt to leave Marguerite so deep in the jungle that she'd never be able to find her way home. She bit her lip hard between her teeth, choking back the unsavory thoughts that ran through her rapidly tiring mind.
"No," she told herself firmly. "Something must have happened. They've been taken somewhere, and it'll be up to me to come to their rescue... again."
//But if they've been taken, then why does your pack remain?// Her mind spit the ugly concern out into the open, forcing Marguerite to see what was true. No signs of struggle. No thief would leave behind one pack and take two others. No blood to indicate a dinosaur attack. Wherever her companions had gone, they had gone by choice.
Tears welled up in her large gray eyes, images of her past flooding through her, and sudden loneliness enveloped Marguerite. She dropped to her knees, clutching her head in her hands as she struggled against the memories overwhelming her fragile mind. Forcing herself to take deep breaths, she concentrated on slowly drawing the cool air into her lungs, exhaling just as slowly until her pounding heart returned to a normal beat.
When she looked up again, her usually expressive gray eyes were hard, her lips drawn into a thin line. No emotion could be seen on her beautiful face, not even the pain radiating from her burning back as she carefully picked up her pack and turned her back on the silent campsite.
No worries. If they wanted to leave her behind, she'd show them. She'd make it back to the tree house, all right, and then she'd pack her belongings.
Marguerite Krux wasn't one to stay where she wasn't wanted.
"That's for damn sure," she muttered to herself, swallowing hard against the sudden lump that constricted her throat. Easing her pack over her uninjured shoulder, Marguerite stepped once more into the jungle and began her long journey home.
End Part Two
A/N 2: Now this doesn't quite explain what's happening, but hey, c'mon, this is the Lost World... can't have the explanations before dear sweet George gets to have his fun figuring things out. :D Hopefully, y'all will get the hints though... something's not quite right on the plateau. :D
A/N 3: Third chapter should be ready hopefully by early next week, if not sooner. My normally wise eema, tralk of a muse is cooperating atm, and so far she's quite happy with the way things are going. :D Hopefully she'll keep things up so there isn't too much time between chapters. :D
Disclaimer: Please see Part One ((as Dani runs around with a crazed gleam in her eye... they're mine all mine all mine I tell you!!! ... Wait... wait... who are you people? What's with the white jackets? No really... I swear... they're mine! :P))
Phased and Confused
Part Two: Bleeding Wounds
By: Danae Bowen
Email: logansfox@rogers.com
Roxton's frown deepened as he reached the river and there was no sign of either woman. "Marguerite?" he called loudly, scanning the small riverbank as well as the expanse of water for her dark hair. When Marguerite continued to evade his sight, Roxton stepped forward, glancing first to the right and then the left, finally catching sight of the bodies of five raptors, obviously felled in the middle of an attack.
"Marguerite! Veronica!" Roxton's voice took on a desperate tinge as his heart began beating wildly in his chest. Running towards the bodies of the raptors, he quickly scanned the area, instantly catching sight of strips of Marguerite's blouse caught on the talons of one dead creature.
His face paled and a slight buzzing filled his ears as he froze in place, his mouth turning instantly dry. "Marguerite? Veronica?"
There are no signs that they had been dragged off, he told himself, instantly attempting to calm his racing mind. There is no blood, and no tracks from any other raptors. They're fine. They've likely just gone back to camp.
Forcing himself to take a deep, calming breath, he turned once more, scanning the clearing one final time to make sure that no signs of either the blonde jungle girl or his beloved, dark haired heiress remained. Finally satisfied, he turned, following the same route back through the jungle, if for no other purpose than to get Challenger so together they could find their missing women. Lord John Roxton was so intent on finding his missing companions that he never even noticed the tiny tingle that ran through his body; after all, it was only a shiver.
****
Marguerite's head shot up as she heard the rustling, watching the trees move almost imperceptibly, but nothing came towards her. She frowned, remaining on guard for another few moments until she was certain no raptors were going to descend on her vulnerable position.
She dipped her fingers delicately into the water, hissing sharply as she poured the cool liquid over the tears in her flesh, washing away dark rivers of blood. A shiver ran down her spine, and once again Marguerite's head jerked up; she couldn't shake the feeling someone else was on the "beach" with her.
"Roxton?" she tried quietly, scanning the tree line quickly. When no response came she raised her voice a little louder. "Veronica? Is that you?" Still she received no response, and she frowned. Shivers of awareness were coursing up and down Marguerite's spine, a feeling she got only when she was in danger, or when Roxton was near. Something wasn't quite right, and Marguerite's nerves were quite suddenly on edge. "This isn't very funny, you know!" She called to her non-existent company, but rather than continue with what she knew to be a ridiculous conversation, she returned to treating her wounds.
Long minutes passed and finally her wounds had slowed their weeping of red. Quickly, before they had a chance to open once again, Marguerite broke open the stems of the leaves Veronica had left her and began pouring the white sap down her back. Unable to reach exactly where the raptors claws had ripped into her, Marguerite had to rely on the force of gravity to carry the sap to where she needed it most. Trickle after trickle of white descended her pale flesh until the heiress was quite sure enough of her wounds had been covered to warrant wrapping her back.
A cursory glance about the clearing informed Marguerite that there was nothing available to turn into a makeshift bandage. Cursing her need to torture Roxton, thereby leaving behind her pack and change of clothing, Marguerite stormed across the clearing, dipping her body in behind a clump of out of the way bushes, coming up triumphantly with her previously ignored camisole. Glancing at the laces, Marguerite nodded. If she tightened the contraption far more than normal, it would make a decent wrapping for her back. She looked over her shoulder and sighed. That would only leave the rending on her shoulder open. Quickly lacing on her camisole, Marguerite hissed in pain as the harsh material rubbed up against her open wounds, but ignored the wave of weakness that flowed through her body in response. Quite the opposite, she returned to her place by the river, picking up her already damaged blouse and tore the sleeves from the nearly useless contraption. Wrapping the sleeves about her bleeding shoulder, she nodded in satisfaction before slipping the remains of her blouse over her body in an attempt at covering her body in a somewhat decent manner.
Having finished tending to her wounds, Marguerite found herself unable to remain by the riverbank. Her fingers twitched in her lap as she peered around the clearing, desperately hoping to see Veronica's blonde hair bobbing towards her, quickly followed by the handsome hunter that set Marguerite's heart to such a rapid beat. Still, the jungle remained quiet but for the birds and creatures scurrying about, carrying on their daily lives.
An hour passed, the sun changing positions drastically in the sky, and a new shiver traveled through Marguerite's body. With the setting of the sun, the night was growing cool, and Marguerite's damaged clothing was offering her no protection against the nip of the rising wind over the river. She had no means by which to make a fire, all her supplies still with Challenger and Roxton, and no blanket with which to cover herself. As the evening grew cooler still, Marguerite made up her mind. Danger or no danger, blood or no blood, she had to return to camp. If she didn't, she'd surely die of exposure before the explorers returned.
Her mind set, Marguerite rose carefully to her feet, her tender flesh complaining against the movement, but nothing she couldn't handle. With a determined step, she moved away from the clearing, stepping into the jungle where night seemed to fall that much quicker under the shroud of ancient trees.
*****
"Challenger! Roxton!" Veronica sped through the trees, her mind so intent on the men she missed a slightly submerged root, catching her foot, stumbling somewhat into the clearing that made up their evening camp. "Challenger!"
"Over here, Veronica." George Challenger's calm voice floated towards the blonde woman, even as she turned in surprise. His eyebrows raised in concern as he took in her state of concern, and he rose to his feet, catching her quickly in his arms. "Veronica, what's happened?"
She clutched him with relief, taking a moment to calm her breathing before stepping out of his fatherly embrace. "Raptors at the river bank. Where's Roxton? Didn't you hear the shots?"
"Gunshots? Lord no, or we'd certainly have come. Roxton left a half hour ago, I was under the impression he was going to find the two of you." He glanced over Veronica's shoulder into the density of the jungle. "Where's Marguerite?"
Veronica shook her head, running a hand through her wild hair. "I left her at the river bank; she was hurt in the attack and when you didn't come to see what happened, we thought you'd been attacked as well. We didn't want to run the risk of attracting further predators with the scent of her blood."
Challenger nodded, his brow now furrowed in concern as he moved to retrieve his pack from the center of camp. "How badly is she hurt? Can she walk? Will she be able to make it back this far?"
Veronica's breathing slowed as she fell into the familiar routine of Challenger's concern for his "children". "She'll be fine, I'm sure. I left her tending to her wounds, but I'm sure she'd be pleased if you had a look at them yourself. I'm more afraid of infection than anything else."
"Too true, my dear, too true." He slung his bag over his shoulder, wincing slightly as his rheumatism gave him pain, then nodded. "I'm ready then; lead on."
Veronica smiled. Until recently she never realized how comforting it was to have someone on which she could always depend... besides herself.
*****
Roxton's concern for his fellow explorers grew by leaps and bounds as he returned to their original campsite and found that not only hadn't the women returned, but Challenger was missing as well.
"Challenger!" he called into the surrounding jungle, believing perhaps the older man had lost patience in waiting for John to send Veronica back. When no response came, Roxton swallowed swiftly.
In an attempt to keep his accelerating heart calm, Roxton swiftly took inventory of their camp. Marguerite's and his packs remained exactly where he'd left them, but Challenger's pack, there only forty minutes before, was no longer in sight. A quick glanced confirmed that the elder man's most recent plant study remained unfinished.
A rustling in the woods caught Roxton's attention and he raised his head, glancing at the trees behind him. "Challenger?" he moved towards the trees, but realized even before he got there that whatever had been moving in the brush was moving away from the camp, not towards it.
Heading back to the center of camp, Roxton turned his eyes to the ground and took note of what he hadn't before. No out of place footsteps. No struggle. No blood. Wherever Challenger had gotten off to, he'd gone willingly.
Quick anger burned in Roxton's blood as he realized George Challenger had merely wandered off. Then his own examination of the clearing where the women had been came back to him. After the initial battle with the raptors, there appeared to be no other signs of struggle, leading him to believe they'd returned here. Marguerite and Veronica, too, had wandered off of their own accords.
"What the hell?" Roxton muttered to himself, glancing about the jungle for any signs of what could have brought this unlikely bout of wanderlust upon his companions. Glancing down at the most recent footprints, Roxton realized Challenger had left in the very same direction from which Roxton had come: towards the river. "What the hell?!"
With a groan, Roxton grabbed his pack off the ground and began to retrace his steps, cursing the now dimming light for hiding further clues from the experienced hunter.
*****
Marguerite carefully retraced her path from earlier, heading directly back to camp. When Veronica left, Marguerite noticed the jungle girl went through the brush rather than their already tread trail, but fearing further predators, as well as getting lost, Marguerite decided to stay with the tried and true.
It took her less than ten minutes to return to the campsite, finding it, as she feared, completely deserted. Her quick eyes noticed that only her pack remained in camp, everyone else's had been taken wherever they'd gone. She frowned, an old fear creeping into her heart that perhaps this entire journey had been a real life Hansel and Gretel nightmare: an attempt to leave Marguerite so deep in the jungle that she'd never be able to find her way home. She bit her lip hard between her teeth, choking back the unsavory thoughts that ran through her rapidly tiring mind.
"No," she told herself firmly. "Something must have happened. They've been taken somewhere, and it'll be up to me to come to their rescue... again."
//But if they've been taken, then why does your pack remain?// Her mind spit the ugly concern out into the open, forcing Marguerite to see what was true. No signs of struggle. No thief would leave behind one pack and take two others. No blood to indicate a dinosaur attack. Wherever her companions had gone, they had gone by choice.
Tears welled up in her large gray eyes, images of her past flooding through her, and sudden loneliness enveloped Marguerite. She dropped to her knees, clutching her head in her hands as she struggled against the memories overwhelming her fragile mind. Forcing herself to take deep breaths, she concentrated on slowly drawing the cool air into her lungs, exhaling just as slowly until her pounding heart returned to a normal beat.
When she looked up again, her usually expressive gray eyes were hard, her lips drawn into a thin line. No emotion could be seen on her beautiful face, not even the pain radiating from her burning back as she carefully picked up her pack and turned her back on the silent campsite.
No worries. If they wanted to leave her behind, she'd show them. She'd make it back to the tree house, all right, and then she'd pack her belongings.
Marguerite Krux wasn't one to stay where she wasn't wanted.
"That's for damn sure," she muttered to herself, swallowing hard against the sudden lump that constricted her throat. Easing her pack over her uninjured shoulder, Marguerite stepped once more into the jungle and began her long journey home.
End Part Two