Disclaimer: Jurassic Park is not mine. Q, Mirage, and Fasir are not mine. Avanwe is not mine. These new weirdos are not exactly mine; they are my friends. Does that count?

Chapter Three

"Let me see if I've got this right," Balo said. "Athos, the leader of the group we are trying to stop from destroying the world, is in trouble. Again. And you want us to rush out there and save him. Again. So he can keep trying to destroy the world. Again."

Morgan decided now was not the time for a lecture on the distinct difference between destroying the world and destroying humanity. Nor was it a good time to point out the line between destroying humanity and ruling humanity. Leave that for later.

And Balo wasn't one Morgan could explain her friendship with Athos to. Balo had grown up with the elven black-and-white line between right and wrong firmly planted in her head. Four feet tall, like all the other elves from her island, it was hard not to see an essense of the naive acceptance of the ways of her people, up until about a year ago.

She was thirteen, only a year younger than Morgan, with long light brown hair, light skin, and light grey eyes. And to the others, she was the living personification of everything they were fighting for. Even as with Morgan, through everything, she'd somehow managed to retain a trace of her innocence. That kind of resilliance, a stubborn determination not to let go of the cheerfullness of youth, was often what gave the others hope.

Tandro bit his tongue, but said nothing. He was Balo's opposite, as quiet as she was loud, as reluctant as she was outspoken, as calm as she was active, and as serious as she was cheerful.

He sighed. Every time something like this happened, the elf remembered that day . . . the day that Latano, widely known in the elf-villages as a wanderer and a peace fanatic, had recruited him as a spy for the elves. Aside from a good deal of rather helpful acting advice, he had only one warning: not to get too involved in what Athos, known only as Confusion at the time, and his assistants were doing. And Tandor had tried, tried so hard to remain distant, removed. But it was impossible; Athos took an immediate liking to the young elf, then in his late teens. He gave him the job of spying on the elves, which, by all rights, should have made Tandro's job a great deal easier; he didn't have to spend a good deal of his time at the tower. But when he was there, he continually found himself seeking Athos' company.

It was impossible for him not to like Athos; the man was so easy-going, so eager to listen. He was fascinated with the elven connection with nature, absorbing everything that Tandro was willing to tell him. Now, three years later, Tandro almost regretted having to abandon his act in order to save his friends.

So, naturally, he was a little annoyed that Balo didn't have the slightest interest in taking action. Nevertheless, he kept his mouth closed. Brown hair straight, brown eyes emotionless, hands in the pockets of his brown pants, even though everyone present knew how deep his feelings ran in this matter, his expression was the very picture of neutrality.

So Eric took it upon himself to speak up. "All right, Balo, but I'm sure I don't have to remind you that if Athos doesn't make it back, that leaves Angelica in charge. Or that her idea is to send the gleems out - in force - all over the world. He's the only one who can keep her under control."

Tandro smiled a little. Eric only resorted to that defense when there were no other options. He was also probably the one who understood most how Tandro felt about the matter, even though he was a human, not an elf, not as careful with his temper or how he worded things. Nearly twice as old as Tandro, he'd woked with Athos for almost half his life as the gleems' leader's second-in-command. Tandro hadn't known how to feel when Eric had announced that he wouldn't do it any more. Yes, Eric had made the right choice, but Tandro couldn't help feeling sorry for Athos. It had hurt him so much . . .

But for the longest time after that, Eric didn't care. He could only see the bad Athos was doing. Now he could see more . . . of everything.

And he knew exactly whose fault it was, but he couldn't help thanking them for being able to see Athos' good side even when he couldn't. He looked at Morgan and Peter, knowing they would help even if the others disagreed, and the others knew that Eric, even though his ice blue eyes made him impossible to read sometimes, would go with them. Eric pushed his straight black hair out of his face as the wind started to blow again, from the southwest, and waited for someone else to say something.

"We don't know what we could be getting into," Noka pointed out. "Morgan mentioned that Avanwe said Q may be responsible. Do we know what we're doing enough to rush headlong into that kind of danger?"

Rona, who was beside him, shrugged. They'd faced some pretty hard odds before, but Noka did have a point.

As he always did. And Rona knew her friend had a personal grudge against Athos. He'd lost his sight in his first battle with the gleems, more than three years ago.

Not that that had stopped them before. They'd always decided, eventually, to help whoever was in trouble, much to Noka's annoyance. Rona smiled. Noka might look like Tandro - brown hair, brown eyes, very natural-colored clothing - but there was almost no similarity.

Rona, on the other hand, didn't resemble anyone even in the slightest. She had very dark skin and short blonde hair, both of which made her stand out from the others immediately. And then there was the logic, a constant the-needs-of-the-many-outweigh-the-needs-of-the-few attitude that drove the others nuts.

"Well, Avanwe also said that there was someone else with Athos," Rona pointed out. "I doubt she did anything to warrant being left wherever they are unaided."

Latano nodded. That did it for him. He could see why Noka and Balo would be against helping Athos alone, but the child was innocent. They had to help.

No one expected Latano to sit back and do nothing in the first place. he was the oldest elf in the group, second oldest overall; he knew more or less what they were getting themselves into. And he was famous for having to remind his niece, Balo, that "The world can't be colored in black and white."

Of course, the reason he had to remind her so much might've been that his appearance contradicted it. It was rare to see him wear anything other than black, grey, and the occasional brown or green. He had long black hair and grey eyes that his niece had inherited from her mother. His skin was light, but noticably darker than all save Peter and Morgan's.

Peter and Morgan stood side by side, facing the others. They knew what Rona had said about Kelly would convince most, if not all, of them. Peter gave Morgan a playful punch on the shoulder.

They made a strange pair, Morgan the second-youngest, Peter the oldest. He had grey hair, a grey beard, and a stick and cape that reminded people of a wizard. Morgan often joked that he was old eonugh to have been one. Peter would smile innocently and wave his stick around in a mysterious way, and Morgan would burst out laughing. She had dark brown hair and skin just dark enough to give away the fact that she was a good part Native American.

But that was more or less where the differences ended. They both had that special gentleness that comes with a lifetime of roughness. And their eyes were the same, a deep brown.

One by one, all the others, even Noka and Balo, nodded their agreement. They had to go. "Peter?" Morgan asked, well aware that the old man made it a habit to know where to find almost anyone.

"Should be easy enough, le Fay."

Morgan flipped her clip-on sunglasses down over her regular ones. "Close your eyes," Peter said. They all did, and the wind started to blow harder. It blew faster and louder, circling the small group known as the Woodland Wanderers, and then grew quiet, and died down to a gentle, if a little cold, breeze.

Q sat back contentedly. "You knew they would go, Fasir. There was nothing even you could've done that would've stopped them."

Fasir looked uncomfortable but said nothing. Mirage was smiling. "Now we shall see," Q said with a grin. "Now we shall see."

"Yes," Fasir repeated. "Now you shall see."

That wasn' t too bad, was it? I promise, people from Jurassic Parkwill show up in the next chapter.