"So who's up for the challenge?" Benge demanded in a wry voice, his eyes quirked as if to mock anyone who wouldn't give it a try. Kyle and Borgoff stood immediately, approaching Benge with determined looks on their faces. Kyle pulled first, then cursed when the match he pulled out still had its head. He plopped back down into the water, obviously disappointed. Borgoff pulled next without any more luck, but he just blew out some air and left the matter alone with a shrug of his shoulder.

Benge looked around at the rest of the group, looking at each man with a scrutinizing eye.

"Well, c'mon," he urged. "I don't have anymore takers? Who wouldn't like the chance to take D's hat from him?"

The hand snorted, slightly disgruntled.

"You know that it doesn't help that you've announced that right in front of him," it commented dryly. "You won't be able to take him by surprise, and that would've been your only chance. Just forget about it."

Benge ignored it, splaying out his arms in question to the others. "Are you all afraid?" he asked in derision. "I'm not afraid . . . watch." He slowly brought his left arm around in pinwheel fashion, bringing it up over his head and then down again over to his other outstretched arm. Without looking, he quickly plucked a match from his fist.

It still had its head.

"See?" Benge said, flicking the match away. "I did it . . . who else would like to try?"

"C'mon, Benge," Mashira piped skeptically. "You expect us to believe that you don't have the matches fixed?"

"Afraid, wolfy?" Benge asked slyly, unperturbed by Mashira's accusation. Mashira's face lit up with outrage, but instead of hurling another insult, he launched out of the water and landed in front of Benge, making the other barbaroi take a step back in surprise. The two of them eyed each other for a moment before Mashira slowly reached out and took a match stick.

It's head was still intact.

"See, not hard, now was it?" Benge said for the benefit of the others. "Hey, Tinkerbell, care to give it a go?"

"I told you to stop calling me that!"
"Quit your foolin'," Borgoff said with an edge to his voice. "You know that Grove can't take your stupid challenge."

"Borgoff, back off," Grove piped. "Benge, get over here and I'll pick one of your stupid matches."

"Fine."

Once Benge stood no more than a foot from Grove's side, he crouched down low enough for him to pick a match. It came out with a head, too.

"Now will the rest of you look at that?" Benge said as he laid a hand on Grove's shoulder. "Even Tinkerbell was willing to take the chance."

"Stop calling me that!"

"Oh, for heaven's sakes," Meier said in annoyance. He stood up and glared around at the others before flicking his stare at Benge. "None of you would ever have a chance at getting the job done alone. Benge, just so that we can get this ridiculous subject out of the way, bring your ass over here."

"Here you go, oh, fearless leader," Benge said, holding out his fist as he bowed. Only two match sticks remained. Meier looked at them for a second, then picked one.

It still had its head.

Everyone turned to the only person left who hadn't picked a match stick yet.

Nolt.

The big man was turned away from the rest of the group. He was seated on a boulder that was set a little ways away from the main wading area, his back turned to them. He was muttering to himself about something and didn't seem to notice when it suddenly became silent. After a while, though, he realized that he was being watched. Nolt threw a tentative look over his shoulder---then felt his body tense once he saw everyone staring at him with strange looks in their eyes.

"What?" he asked them, bewildered. "What the hell are you guys staring at?" Another beat of silence.

"Nolt," Kyle began quietly, his voice laced with disbelief, "haven't you been paying attention to what's been going on?"

"Sorry," Nolt apologized as he shook his head. He twisted his bulk around so that he could face the others without craning his neck. "I was busy wondering about how trees felt when you cut them down. Then it got me thinking that if they could scream like people can, we wouldn't be cutting any of them down at all, now would we? . . . unless maybe you were some kind of psycho sadist, but those kind of people are in a different league all their own."

There was a moment of pause and silence as everyone took that in, then Kyle cleared his throat.

"Nolt, we were just picking match sticks to see who would get to take D's hat from his head. You're the last one, and you've got the last match stick. The rest of us all lost which only leaves you, but before we can make it official, you've got to pull the match stick from Benge's hand."

"Oh." Nolt thought about it, then shrugged. "Why not? I was getting kind of bored anyway." He got up and approached Benge. Benge held out his fist with the remaining matchstick still clutched in it, leaving it to Nolt to finally pluck. With everyone watching---except for D because he didn't really give a damn---Nolt pulled out the last match stick.

It still had its head.

"Benge, what the hell!" Kyle cried out incredulously. Benge peered down at the last match stick still propped in between Nolt's fingers. He let out a sheepish laugh.

"Sorry," he apologized with a stupid grin. "I kind of forgot to break off one of the heads."

"I'm sick of this," Kyle muttered, frustrated. He threw another glance at D, watching as the dhampire just ignored the rest of them. A stubborn resolve suddenly erupted inside of Kyle, and he decided then that he wasn't going to let anything by him without a good fight. He stood up and looked around at the others, his eyes gleaming with heated fervor. "I say that we take D's hat together!" he yelled with determination, pumping his fist into the air. "Who's with me!?"

Caught up in Kyle's enthusiasm, most of the other men stood in unison to let out yells of agreement, their war cry echoing out into the peaceful atmosphere before they all suddenly launched towards D.

~~~~~~~~~Meanwhile~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What do you suppose the guys' are doing right now?" Caroline asked wistfully in a voice filled with longing. She had stopped gazing at the fence and had joined the rest of the women in their talk, but every now and then she could be caught throwing a look back over at the wall.

"The guys?" Leila said, her eyebrow tweaking slightly. "Aren't you just talking about one guy, Caroline.?" The barbaroi woman only shrugged and leaned back against the boulder.

"Does it matter, honey?" she murmured, closing her eyes. "I bet everyone here has their minds wondering about a particular man over there."

"It's not hard to guess who Charlotte's thinking about," Carmila said quietly, her voice barely containing any emotion. Charlotte ducked her head and blushed profusely which somehow only made her look all the more charming.

"I can't help that," she said meekly, very embarrassed. "Meier and I've been through a lot together, and I love him very much."

"And it has nothing to do with the fact that he's gorgeous, huh?" Leila asked skeptically. Charlotte's blush reddened into a deep shade of crimson, something that the other women hadn't missed.

"Oh, stop it," Charlotte demanded, trying to hide her embarrassment by a mask of seriousness. She turned her head away, closing her eyes as if to ignore Leila---but then she opened them again, her face thoughtful.

"You . . . you really think that Meier's gorgeous?" she asked tentatively.

"Where the hell you've been, Charlotte?" Leila asked, slightly surprised by the unusual question. "Meier's the kind of guy that'll bring old ladies back from the dead just to have a chance at him."

"You really think so?" Charlotte asked, her face brightening at the new perspective.

"You've got to be blind not to think so."

"Huh."

"Well what about D?" Caroline suddenly interjected, making the other women turn their eyes on her. "He's pretty nice to look at with that long, dark hair of his and those beautiful gray eyes."

"Don't remind me," Carmila said, a little irritated. "I hate it when a man looks more beautiful then myself. Do you realize how much work I have to put in just to look the way I do? And all he does is go around slaying vampires . . . that crack whore."

"Hey, vampire hunting isn't that easy," Leila piped up, defensive. "It's hard work with all of the fighting and running around you've got to do."

"That's my point," Carmila said. "He goes around literally getting his hands dirty, and what does he have to show for it? Perfectly smooth skin, unblemished hands and fingernails, hair without split-ends . . . it makes me sick. I bet he's never even had a full-body makeover before."

"Sick or not," Leila responded as she gave in to Carmila's quiet rant, "he's still a cutie."

"Mm-hmm," Caroline agreed.

"Well then," Carmila said, a sly smile pulling at her sharply red lips. "Who do you two think looks better? Meier, or D?"

"What about me, Carmila?" Charlotte asked, looking slightly hurt.

"You don't count, dear," Carmila said gently. "You have your heart set on Meier, and so your judgment is biased. Personally, I think that they equate each other. Meier has his physical good points as do D." Charlotte thought about it for a moment, and then nodded her assent.

"Well, if I'm going to put it to a vote," Leila said thoughtfully, "I'd have to say that D is the winner in my books. He has that tall, dark, and handsome thing going on that really catches the eye."

Caroline snorted. "My vote's on Meier," she purred. "His white hair's unusual and I like the way he has it styled. Very classy, but masculine at the same time. He's got good taste in clothes, too . . . unlike D."

"I think D looks sexy in that skin-tight body armor of his," Leila commented defensively. "You can really make out all of his muscles."

"Yeah, but Meier's physique is pretty good, too," Caroline pointed out, "even with his clothes completely covering him up. And those deep, red eyes . . ."

"Those kind of creep me out," Leila said. "Don't get me wrong, they suit Meier. I just prefer a more natural color."

"Come, ladies," Carmila interjected. "You've only pointed out their differences. What of their similarities?"

"The eyelashes," both women answered in harmony.

"Hmm," Carmila hummed. "Anything else?"

"Well," Leila murmured, her face contorting as she fought for more examples. "They both have artistic features," she said slowly. "High cheek bones, pouty lips, straight noses . . ."

Suddenly becoming bored with the conversation, Caroline grunted and stretched.

"Personal style and taste aside," she purred flippantly, "they both are nice to look at just for the hell of it . . . but I'll choose Nolt over either one of them any day."

"You barely know the guy," Leila said with a snort. "How can you be so sure he's the one for you?"

"Charlotte," Caroline said, turning to the more demure woman. "I think you can better explain it in words than I can."

"Me?" Charlotte said. "Why me?"

"You're more the romantic type," Caroline answered as she wriggled her body down deeper into the water. "And you're also in love. I've never been good at describing my feelings. It's kind of seen as weakness where I come from."

"Oh . . . well . . . Leila, you know that feeling you get when you're falling from the top of the highest mountain in the world?"

"Yeah, did it just last week."

"Well, it's kind of like that, but only without the falling part, and with a lot more 'umph'."

Caroline suddenly sank into the water, her head disappearing beneath the surface. .

". . . um . . .you don't say," Leila finally said in a low tone, her eyebrows knitted together as she stared at Charlotte with a skeptical frown. Caroline slowly rose back out of the water, but only up to her nose. She kept her mouth submerged beneath the surface, blowing frustrated air bubbles into the water, her eyes flat with bewilderment. Charlotte only smiled at the two of them, her expression cheerful and oblivious to the other women's looks of disbelief.

"When you're falling," she continued lightheartedly, "you don't have any control over it. Everything seems to be rushing out at you all at once, sometimes making you lose sight of the ground and everything else around you, but your heart is what you pay the most attention to. It throbs and aches with a pain you can't stop, beating so fast and hard---only with love, you don't want it to stop. Instead of the pain, there's this fire, this burning sensation. You don't just feel like you can fly . . . you feel completed, like you've just been given your wings for the rest of eternity."

Caroline sat back up and leaned against the boulder, her expression now relieved and satisfied.

"I see," Leila said slowly, but her tone was still skeptical. Charlotte noticed, but shrugged it off.

"You'll understand when it happens to you," she promised in her quiet little way. Leila laughed at the idea as though it were a joke.

"Yeah, we'll see if that happens," she stated. "I can just picture it now. Maybe even a little granddaughter that'll look just like me when I was a kid, too."

Charlotte smiled knowingly and hugged her towel to her chest without saying a word.

Suddenly, a loud commotion erupted from the men's side, startling all four of them. There was a lot of loud splashing and yelling, and spouts of water shot up like geysers high enough into the sky for the women to see over the wall. This went on for maybe another ten minutes before it suddenly went quiet again.

A beat of baffled silence had the women just staring over at the other side. Leila finally managed to shake herself out of it, and stood to take a few steps in the men's direction.

"HEY!" she yelled at the top of her lungs once she was sure that she was close enough to be heard. "What the hell are you guys doing over there?!"

"Nothing!" a chorus echoed back, slightly muffled by the distance and density of the atmosphere.

"Hmph," Leila snorted, obviously unconvinced.

~~~~~~~~~Back on the men's side~~~~~~~~~~~~

Water dripped from everything that was nearby, including the bamboo wall, patio, boulders, and trees.

D sat exactly where he had been sitting before, his hat still sitting proudly on his head, completely untouched by unwanted hands.

Meier sat in quiet meditation, just as relaxed and unruffled as D. He hadn't joined in on the fight for D's hat, deciding it was beneath his dignity, despite his own curiosity.

The others---with the exception of Grove---were completely drenched, and were nursing bruises that were already beginning to show along various parts of their bodies.

"Who'd a thought he'd be so sensitive about that damn hat," Kyle muttered as he touched a swelling on his head. He winced.

"I could've told you that, you idiot," Mashira growled as he work to unknot his hair. Kyle shot him a hard look.

"You were trying to get that hat right along with me," Kyle said.

"Yeah, but I didn't think it be so easy."

"You guys did a good job," Grove said in his corner, completely untouched. He'd been unable to move from his spot, so he had cheered the others on by the sideline instead. "I especially admired the way Benge tried to distract him from behind while you guys tag teamed around him."

Nolt still lay unconscious on top of a boulder, having been knocked out by D very early in the game. D had wanted to get the bigger man out of the way in the very beginning since Nolt's physical strength was unmatched by any of the others. Borgoff worked to revive him while trying to support a sprained arm at the same time.

Everyone suddenly became silent.

"Does anyone else get the urge to urinate for sitting in all of this warm water?" the hand suddenly asked.