Again, thanks to all my reviewers! VaSinFlor, so this story provides a break from schoolwork?  Cool!  Heaven knows I spent at least half my college years reading fanfic, so I'm glad to carry on the tradition...from the other side this time. :D  Mel, I'm so glad you're enjoying the story thus far...I shall certainly do my best to keep it interesting!  MysteriouslyUnique, I hope you enjoy this next chapter as well. So you recognized the poem, huh, swim6516? Remarkable how those English classes affect their sneaky mind control, isn't it? And, yeah, I probably enjoyed writing that little scene as much as you enjoyed reading it. :D Gordo's not exactly subtle, is he?  Too bad Lizzie's not paying attention.  always krissy, I'm honored you like my characterizations of Lizzie and Gordo!  Jaffa...sorry about the Stargate question. I'm a wee bit obsessed with the show and when I saw your name I thought Ach! Jaffa like Teal'c!  Suffice it to say, you have an awesome nickname!  (As Teal'c, himself, would say, "Indeed!")  I hope you enjoy this chapter!  JustOneOfMyLies, thank you so much for the very specific feedback. It's beyond wonderful to hear what I'm getting right...and to be characterized as a storyteller —in my opinion, rather a trickier role to fill than merely that of good writer!  Thank you.

And now, on to chapter 9....

Chapter 9: The Snake's Arrow

The rest of the morning, and most of the afternoon, went smoothly and for the most part silently.  The forest below them began to take on some definite changes, the trees growing taller, their leaves wider and densely knit.  They saw fewer and fewer clearings, although the streams were faster and thicker, churning white over occasional rapids.  The birds changed too, large and brightly colored and not nearly as willing to fly beside them.

Albeit interesting, the changes beneath them held little of their attention when they realized the sky above them was changing as well.  Gordo spotted the clouds first, turning to gesture to Lizzie just as she was tucking away the rest of the bread and cheese Wednesday had given them.  All day they'd flown through clear sky, but before them were undeniably clouds, clouds an undeniably leaden color.  They were heading for some serious weather.

"And not a seatbelt or flotation device in sight," Gordo lamented.

Lizzie resisted the urge to hit him and asked instead, "Does it look like it's raining yet?  Maybe the rain'll hold off until we get there."

"Maybe," Gordo replied, but he didn't sound at all convinced.

As it turned out, the rain did wait until they got there.  It just didn't wait until they got through.  Gordo had just turned the carpet to follow the sinuous coil of a small forest stream—the last landmark Lily had given them for their journey—when the clouds above them opened up.  Within moments they were drenched, fat raindrops falling in steel-grey sheets to plaster hair and clothes against their skin and in their eyes.

"That's it," Lizzie growled, swiping a sopping gold swath of hair off her nose.  "I'm braiding this stuff next downtime we get.  No more of this pretty princess long hair crap."  She had far more to say, but Gordo's low, urgent, "Hush, Liz," closed her mouth immediately.  Looking around, she noticed that their visibility had dropped to a mere ten feet.  They were in a misty grey bubble, with no sight of trees or river or even clouds.

"I'm going to try and take us down," Gordo said over the hiss of the rain.  "If we're lucky, we haven't strayed too far from the river.  Maybe we can find our way back to it."  With a squeeze of her fist against his side, Lizzie nodded.  A moment later, Gordo was leaning forward just a little, the carpet dropping at a shallow angle.  And a few moments after that, leaves and branches came into view.  Gordo maneuvered the carpet into an opening in the greenery and they sank below the forest canopy into a world of black bark and trailing vines, of waxy blue-green leaves and sage cloaks of hanging moss.  The rain still fell, but much less heavily—not that it mattered, as the air was dense with humidity and very warm.

"Fairy tale rain forest," Gordo whispered as he continued to guide the carpet down.  Lizzie had already come to the same conclusion, her eyes darting among the trees.  She'd done a report on rain forests in fifth grade and had held the opinion since then that they were the last place she'd ever want to visit.  Nasty, poisonous snakes.  Nasty, poisonous bugs.  Constant heat.  Constant humidity.  And monkeys.  She shuddered.  She really, really didn't like monkeys.  Not in the wild, anyway: she'd seen The Jungle Book.

She was so caught up in imagining several monkeys abducting her from the carpet and carrying her, screeching and oo-oohing all the while, to their monkey king, that when she did at last see a monkey—just a little, tawny thing—she jumped and screamed, grabbing Gordo so hard that he jumped too.  The carpet lurched once, twice, three times and, even as Gordo tried to regain control, began a steep dive to the forest floor.

It happened too fast to really understand, but one moment they were drifting gently to the ground and the next Lizzie was airborne, the forest a blur of greens and browns until, with a sharp pain above her ear, everything went black.


*********#######*********

Sheets.  Sheets under her cheek.  Sheets draped over her back, tangling her legs.  Sheets.  Home.  Lizzie felt a sleep-drugged moment of satisfaction, smiling as she remembered their fall from the carpet—falling was the key to waking up.  Eyes still closed, she rolled over and drew a deep, content breath.

The sheets smelled like smoke.  The deep breath left on a sigh.  Fire-smoke.  She knew what that meant.

Blasted bubble universe.

Her eyes flicked open, blinking into stuttering orange and black.  It took a moment for the lines and shadow to align properly, but at last Lizzie made out a wood-paneled wall...and a face. Half-buried in shadow, it was not six inches away, and Lizzie's tired eyes strained to bring the abstract chiaroscuro of features into focus.  Feathered, sooty crescent—eyelashes.  Which would make that charcoal wedge there a nose.  And beside that, the orange round of a cheek.  Her gaze traced along the cheek into a messy thatch the color of brandy.  Hair—curls.  Gordo.  Now that she knew what she was looking for, the face came together easily.

He looked unharmed, she was glad to note, and was definitely still sleeping.  She blinked at him a little longer before the slow, even rhythm of his breath tempted her eyes closed again.  He was all right, she told herself, feeling her body sinking into the mattress, he wasn't hurt in the fall.  She nuzzled into the smoky sheets and would have inched closer to Gordo if she hadn't been so... very... comfortable already.

How nice, she thought muzzily, how nice that Gordo was here.  How nice to be warm...and dry.  How nice that the monkeys had thought to bring them out of the rain....

Her eyes snapped open.  Monkeys?  Here?

(Pushing aside the image of a team of acrobatic monkeys grinning behind her.)  Where was 'here'?

She sat up so quickly her vision dimmed.  When it cleared again, she found herself looking into a small room, bare save for a low table and the floor pallet she and Gordo shared.  There wasn't even the fire she'd expected.  Instead, the firelight seemed to come from behind a curtain of pale, light cloth.  Draped over a stout rope running from one side wall to the other, the cloth was folded back about a foot, a narrow doorway for the orange light and warm, smoky air.

Shuffling her feet from under the sheets to find the rough wood floor, she stood, startled at the lack of skirts meeting her ankles.  Instead of the familiar dress, she wore only a thin white shift, the same one she'd been wearing below the dress these past few days—in essence, her underclothes.  Immediately, she sat down again, jostling Gordo as she burrowed back under the sheets.  She'd intended to look beyond the curtain and perhaps even explore the rest of the house, but no way was she going to do that wearing only freaking bubble universe underwear.

Grumbling, she eyed Gordo and wondered whether he really needed the sheet.  Maybe she could wrap it around herself and go find her dress.  He wouldn't miss it...right?  After all, it was warm in here and they'd slept outdoors for the past two nights.  Surely he didn't need a sheet.  But before she could work out how to pry it from under his arm, he stirred, two eyes slitting open.

Instantly sheepish, even though she knew he didn't know what she'd been planning, she managed a little smile and chirped a simple, "Hello."

"Good morning," he croaked, his voice low and thick with sleep.  With a swift, sudden breath, he stretched and rubbed his eyes.  Blinking blearily at her, "Or is it even morning?"

Lizzie shrugged and drew back a little on the pallet to help him focus.  "I don't know.  I just woke up a few minutes before you did."

It took Gordo a moment to process this, then his eyes opened wide.  "We crashed!" he recalled.  "Are you all right?"

She nodded, smile broadening into a grin.  "I'm fine," she said, realizing it even as she spoke.  "Not even a headache, although I'm pretty sure I blacked out when we landed.  What about you?"

He was silent, rolling his shoulders and neck before saying, "I think I'm fine too."  Then he frowned.  "I wonder how long we've been asleep."

Lizzie hadn't thought of that...and couldn't really say she wanted to, either.  Days?  Weeks?  Years?  Was it possible to sleep so long, even in a bubble universe, even if they were healing?  "Maybe we just stumbled upon a band of doctors or something," she offered.  "Or, you know, maybe we really weren't hurt badly."

"I hope so, Liz," Gordo nodded.  "I'd hate to think we've been sleeping for months of convalescence."

Lizzie shuddered.  "Yeah, me too."

"Still," Gordo mused, looking away, "better that than a witch who'll never let us go."

Lizzie shuddered again.  "Yeah."

"Or a witch who just wants to make soup of us."  Soup?  Nausea rose sharp in Lizzie's stomach, but Gordo just chuckled.  "Ah, the joys of a fairy tale bubble universe."  Lizzie curled into a ball on the pallet, squeezing her eyes shut, and perhaps the movement drew Gordo's attention, as his laughter abruptly ceased.  "Hey, Lizzie," he said, tugging on a strand of her hair.  "I'm sorry.  I'm just kidding."  Lizzie opened her eyes and glared at him.  "I really was just kidding, Liz," he tried again.  "I'm sure we're somewhere completely safe."

Her glare didn't soften...and neither did the tight knot in her stomach.  "Just stop talking about it," she growled.

The word clicked against his teeth: "Right."  And for a few minutes, there was silence.  Then, after a while, Gordo sat up and asked, "So, should we go exploring?"

Lizzie glanced at him, noting that he wore a white shirt and a pair of green trousers—not his clothes, but close enough in style.  Lucky.  "You can," she said, "but I'm not exactly dressed for exploring."  Gordo eyed her white shift where it lay on her shoulders, above the sheets, and a smile quirked the corner of his mouth.  Lizzie felt the glare returning to her face; she didn't know what he was laughing at, but she didn't like that...smirk.

Apparently Gordo got the message, as he coughed and looked away, his face smooth when he met her gaze again.  "Okay," he agreed.  "You can stay here.  Although, if you want to come along, I don't see why you can't just wear the shee—"

He was interrupted by a stirring of the curtain.  Both their gazes snapped to the movement, watching intently as the fabric shifted again, twitched, and was inched aside to reveal a small, pert nose, a pair of wide, pale eyes, and a close-cropped head of curly honey hair.  Little fingers curved around the edge of the curtain, squeezed, and disappeared, the child disappearing with them.  Then, a moment later, a young voice yelled, "Mama, they're not asleeping anymore!"

Lizzie stifled the laugh that rose in her throat and turned to grin at Gordo.

"I guess we don't need to worry about evil witches, huh?" he asked with a grin as wide as hers.  She merely had time to shake her head before the curtain opened again, this time to reveal a woman.  A woman who looked a great deal like Maggie Fogel.  "Here we go again," Gordo muttered behind her.

Lizzie wanted to hush him, but her mouth refused to cooperate.  This was a woman who looked like Maggie Fogel.  There were the same short honey curls, the same aquamarine eyes, no more lines etching the face than she'd ever seen on the real Maggie Fogel.  And yet.  And yet this Maggie was not a girl, not even a young woman—as Lily had been.  Somehow, this Maggie looked like a woman some ten or more years older than her counterpart.  Lizzie couldn't figure out why—was it something in the way she held her shoulders, something in the way she wore the turquoise sarong tied between her breasts?  Or was it the way the child padded adoringly at her heels?

"Welcome to my home," the woman said, her voice a still, soft version of the real Maggie's.  She folded both hands together against her breastbone and bowed slightly.  Out of the corner of her eye, Lizzie saw Gordo attempt an answering bow but couldn't make herself move to echo him.  "I am Nadie, wife of Evarado, mother of Sisika.  I hope you have slept well."

Again, it was Gordo who answered.  "Yes, thank you.  I am Gordo.  This is Lizzie."  His hand lifted in Lizzie's direction, hovering as his forehead folded.  Lizzie looked from him to Nadie, hearing the questions he wanted to ask and not any more certain on how to phrase them.

But apparently, Nadie didn't need them in words.  Her lips lifted in a bare smile and she bowed again.  "Of course," she stated, "you must be curious how you came to be here, how long you have slept.  Do not worry."  She raised a cupped hand.  "I am certain you are hungry, guests, and as we eat, my husband and I will answer your questions."  The fingers of her raised hand swept open and out and back, a flower blooming and budding again.  "Please, Gordo, attend Sisika to the fire room while I assist Lizzie in her preparations."

Lizzie turned to catch and nod at Gordo's questioning glance, watching as he rose, hitched trousers too long for him up higher on his legs, and followed the child—Sisika—past the curtain.  When he had gone, she looked back to Nadie, startled to find the woman holding a drape of jade green cloth.  How had she missed seeing that in Nadie's hands?

"I believe you are concerned about your garments, Lizzie?" Nadie asked, stepping forward in a sinuous heel-toe motion that barely disturbed the cloth against her legs.  "They are still drying, I am afraid, but here is one of mine to wear as you wait."  Lizzie hesitantly stood and reached for the jade fabric Nadie offered.  Instead of releasing it, however, the woman gestured for Lizzie to raise her arms, then looped the cloth around Lizzie's back, under her arms, to knot the upper corners between her breasts.  Lizzie lowered her arms, surprised at how close the fabric held against her and by how much of it remained, gathered in folds from the knot to past her knees.  It was actually a lot more comfortable than she'd expected it to be, but she was still glad she wore her shift beneath it.

"There," Nadie nodded, looking pleased, "and now we may go to our meal."

Lizzie tried on a smile, feeling it curve shyly around her mouth, and said, "Thank you, Nadie."  Amazing.  Despite the familiar face, she felt almost awestruck by the woman.  Obediently, she followed Nadie past the curtain and into another room, this one with a fire at its center and Gordo, Sisika, and—Ethan?—sitting on low wooden stools.  Lizzie gaped at the bare-chested Ethan for a moment before moving to join Gordo, telling herself sternly that Ethan was most probably Evarado, Nadie's husband, and that, besides, she'd gotten over her crush on the real Ethan years ago.

Still, he had a great chest.

"Shut up," she muttered to herself, fixing her eyes firmly on Gordo's sardonic expression as she rounded the fire and took the stool beside him.

"Might want to mop up the drool there, McGuire," he said, earning himself a light backhand across his arm.

"Shut up," she repeated, to him this time.  "It's not like I can help it that he has a great chest.  Doesn't mean I'm gonna jump over the fire and attack him.  Geez."  Still, she kept her gaze firmly on Gordo.  No sense in drooling if she didn't have to.

Damn, that sounded cruel.  As though Gordo wasn't drool-worthy too.  He was.  He just wasn't quite the uncomplicated eye-candy that Ethan—Evarado—Ethan was.

Guilty, she licked her lips and blurted, "You're drool-worthy too."  Gordo's eyes popped open and Lizzie winced.  Oops.  She hadn't meant to say that quite so...bluntly.  In fact, she wasn't quite sure how she meant to say that.  Or, for that matter, what she meant to say.

She looked up to see a faint grin shaping Gordo's mouth.  "Don't do me any favors, Liz," he chuckled.  He seemed to have written it off as another Lizzie McGuire brain murmur.  Grrr.

"No," she protested, "I'm serious, Gordo."  She winced again.  "I didn't mean to say it quite like that, but I know you used to hate how Miranda and I fawned all over Ethan.  I'm just trying to say, eh—" What was she trying to say?  "Eh, just that...."  Ah, hell.  "I'd rather fawn over you than Ethan any day."  Or something like that.

Gordo's eyes widened, surprised for good this time.  His mouth opened, closed, opened again, then he frowned.  Clearing his throat, he managed, "Thanks.  Lizzie."

Her mind cleared enough for her to add, hurriedly, "That is, I'm past all the superficial stuff."  She laughed, uncomfortably.  "You've taught me well, Sensei."  Bother.  How on earth did she get herself into these conversations?

The pole-axed look on Gordo's face disappeared, the slight smile returning.  "And I am proud, grasshopper," he answered and, with a slight bow, turned to their waiting hosts.

Lizzie turned too, not surprised to find Evarado's bare chest had lost all its appeal.  Stupid, she berated herself.  Why couldn't you just tell him he really is drool-worthy?  He didn't look hurt...but then he never did when she or Miranda made some careless remark about another guy, a remark that, by exclusion, cut Gordo down to nothing more than a brain.  She'd resolved long ago to stop doing that.  Yet here she was....  'You've taught me well, Sensei.'  Why not just tell him he's cute too?

But it was a little late now.  And Nadie was speaking.

"—found you, hurt, on the forest floor.  My husband brought you back here, Sisika and I nursed your wounds, and after you slept the night and this day, you have awakened, well again."

"Thank you very much," Gordo replied, inclining his head.  "And did you locate our carpet?"

Evarado's eyebrows jumped.  "Ah, yes," he said in Ethan's voice, with none of Ethan's cheerful vapidity.  "I did.  I used it to drag you and your lady to the treehouse."

Gordo was nodding, but all Lizzie could think was Treehouse?  Well, that was unique.  She couldn't wait until the morning, when they might look outside, on the trees, the birds, and, she hoped, no monkeys.  And then, of course, there was the whole climbing down thing.

Awesome.

The others were talking again.  Focus, McGuire.

"Ah," Evarado was saying, "yes, I do know this couple of whom you speak."  Gordo must have asked about the husband and wife they sought.  "In truth, you have found them."  He reached a hand for his wife and gave his guests a significant look.  Startled, Lizzie swung a glance to meet Gordo's.

Again, how awesome was that?  They grinned at each other.

"This being you seek," Nadie said, "the one your Princess Lily told you about, she is the Black Snake of the Water Forest, a mystical creature of great wisdom.  Indeed, if there is anyone to help you in your quest, it is she."

Evarado nodded.  "Yes.  I would not be standing here, tall, hearty, a successful hunter with my beautiful wife and child, were it not for the Black Snake...and her arrow."  Smiling gently at Nadie, he squeezed her hand and said, "Fetch our meal, dearest, and I shall tell our guests of our meeting so long ago."

Nadie immediately released her husband's hand and withdrew to a corner of the room, where a rough-hewn cupboard stood.  Within a few minutes, she returned with nuts, unfamiliar berries, and what looked like large, white flower petals.  Over this simple meal, Evarado told his story, the story of the two giant demon monkeys (Ha! Lizzie thought triumphantly) that haunted the water forest when he was young.  They so terrorized the forest and its people, he said, that soon his two older brothers had decided to venture forth and kill them.  Neither one returned, and at last Evarado himself felt the need to go, despite his weakness and ill health.  As he walked, he came upon a great, black snake.  She asked him his business, listened to his answer, and gave him an old, worn-looking arrow.

"That," she said, "is an enchanted arrow."  And, certainly, as soon as he touched it, his sickness fell away, his limbs growing strong and eager.  "It will kill the two monkeys, but you must follow my directions carefully to rid the forest of their evil.  As you draw near the monkeys' lair, you will pass a large, ugly toad-woman.  She will offer help, if you promise to marry her—do so, you will not be sorry."  With that, the snake bid him farewell, and Evarado headed into the forest again.

As he expected, he met the toad-woman.  At his promise of marriage, she told him that he needed to aim his arrow between the eyes of one of the monkeys.  All he needed was to hit one of them and they would both die.  Evarado took his arrow and his betrothed to wait for the monkeys to appear.  As they came out of their lair to drink, he took aim between the first monkey's eyes, loosed the arrow, and watched as the monkeys screamed their rage and disappeared, leaving only two skins on the ground.

His duty completed, Evarado returned to his village and married the toad-woman.  As they crossed the threshold of their new house, she transformed into a beautiful woman.  Not long after his marriage, he became a great hunter, soon doubly blessed by the birth of his daughter, Sisika.

At the end of the tale, Lizzie was drooping on her stool, remarkably tired for someone who'd done nothing but sleep for the past day and a half.  She looked over to find Gordo's eyes as heavy-lidded as hers felt.

"You must sleep," Nadie announced, Sisika drowsing on her lap.  "Your bodies are not completely recovered yet.  Please, return to your rest.  Tomorrow, Evarado and I will tell you where to find the Black Snake."  She rose and Lizzie automatically followed, nodding goodnights to their hosts as she headed back to their room.

Once beyond the curtain, she untied the jade sarong, puddled the cloth on the floor, and crawled beneath the sheets just in time to see Gordo enter the room behind her.  He stopped next to the pallet, blinking.

"Only one bed, Liz," he yawned.

She shrugged.  "I'm too tired to care."

He nodded, climbing under the sheets to settle next to her.  "I won't maul you if you won't maul me," he teased sleepily.

Lizzie tugged her mouth up into a smile, her eyelids so heavy now that she couldn't hold them open.  "I'll try not to maul you," she mumbled.  "Even though you are damn cute."

Her last thought before sleep claimed her was a very satisfied, There!  I told him!

Finally.

****
end of chapter 9

chapter notes:
I don't, of course, own The Jungle Book, but I suppose I rather can claim Lizzie's fear of monkeys. :D As for the fairy tale, I drew from the version of "The Snake's Arrow" found in A World Treasury of Myths, Legends, and Folktales: Stories From Six Continents, retold by Renata Bini, illustrated by Mikhail Fiodorov.