As Aria stood trembling in the cave, the jumble of mismatched musical notes grew louder. At last she managed to regain some control of her mental functions, and drew her gaze to the gray, rocky tunnel. As before, the walls of it turned crystal clear, and the end of the spectacle was accompanied by a bright flash of light. She hesitated briefly, wondering if it was possible that those mountain lions had followed her as well.

She let out a breath of relief when she saw who stood standing in the tunnel. It looked as though Uncle Press had gotten out alright after all. When he saw her, his eyes widened and he ran over to her, giving her a quick once over to make sure she wasn't injured. "Are you okay?" He asked, turning her around to look at her back. "I thought Saint Dane would have made it here before me." His face creased in concern when he saw the wound on her shoulder. A quick glance told him that it wasn't serious – just a scrape.

"He did…" she said, trailing off. She had a lot of questions to ask, but frankly, the scary shape-shifting guy was not one of her immediate priorities. Her uncle seemed to sense this, but if he wanted to know what had happened, he apparently decided that it would be a good idea to let her ask the questions.

It was clear that she was freaking out, and was frantically trying to put things together in her mind. Her mouth was moving as though she were trying to ask several questions at once, but no sound came out. At last she simply stood for a moment, trying to calm herself enough that she could speak coherently. Press gave her time.

At last she seemed to come back to herself. She took a deep breath, and then croaked out, "Where are we?"

Uncle Press replied, "Denduron. That's the name of the territory you yelled into the flume."

She hesitated, not really feeling like that was an adequate answer. "How did we get here? What was that…" she trailed off briefly, gesturing towards the rocky tunnel. "…all about?"

Press evenly replied, "That cave is called a flume. It's a sort of wormhole to different universes. If you call out the name of a territory, it will activate and take you there."

Her eyes widened at this statement. "So wait. I'm in a different dimension? Like, Rod Sterling, Twilight Zone stuff?" She had a bit of difficulty believing that – until she remembered that she had gone from a subterranean cave to the top of a mountain in what seemed like a few short minutes.

Press smiled. "Sorta," he said. "The planet we're standing on right now is not Earth. It's an entirely different world, with different people, different plants, different animals…even a different solar system, as you'll probably notice when you take a moment to look at the sky." She vaguely wondered what he might mean by that, but decided that there were more pressing issues.

"So…" she was still having trouble figuring out what to ask, let alone process what she was being told. "I was on Earth, now I'm not. You obviously seem to know about this place. This is where you were taking me." She surmised that that had to be true – why else had they gone to that cave? Why else would her uncle be so calm? Why else would he have that knowing look in his eye, as though he was mentally answering her questions before she even had a chance to ask them? "If I got here by yelling, 'Denduron', that should mean I can get back to Earth by yelling, 'Earth', right?"

He smiled a little strangely at her. "Sorta," he said again.

That was all she needed to hear. As much as she loved her uncle, she had no intention of getting involved in whatever he had going on. She had been shot at, chased by mountain lions, and flumed across the universe, apparently. She loved a good adventure, but she decided that she'd had enough of one in the last hour or so to last until she was fifty. She turned around, and standing in front of the flume, yelled, "Earth!"

Nothing happened. Uncle Press smiled at her again, this time a little sadly. "That won't work," he said. "There are multiple Earths. You would have to name the right one."

She whipped around and yelled at him frantically, "Then tell me which one is the right one! One Earth, two Earth, red Earth, blue Earth, I don't care, just get me out of here!" She was nearly hysterical at this point. She began storming around the cave, kicking rocks and looking generally distressed. Press allowed her a few minutes to calm down before speaking again.

"I'm sorry you're taking this so hard, but do you remember why I asked you to come with me in the first place?" Finally she looked at him. She was still freaking out, but she had at least calmed down enough to listen. "I told you there were some people who needed your help. That's still true; as much as I would like to let you just go home and pretend this never happened, I can't. At least, not yet."

Aria thought she saw something flash through his eyes at those last words. She was still too frantic to care. Finally, after taking several deep breaths, she continued her interrogation. "Ok, fine." This was, in fact, not fine, but she decided to play along until she could figure out how to get back to her own world. "Why are we here? Why am I here? I don't know anything about this place. You do. Why can't you handle it?"

He sighed. "Why don't I tell you about that while we head to where we're going. For now, I need you to change into those," he said while pointing at a pile of soft looking furs and leathers. Upon closer inspection, Aria realized that they were clothing. She frowned, about to argue, when she realized that the furs were bound to be a lot warmer than what she was wearing – namely jeans, and a t-shirt with a light jacket. She glared at her uncle for a moment, still irked that he wouldn't tell her how to get home. Then she grabbed some clothing that looked to be her size and walked to the other end of the cave. Her uncle smiled at her sympathetically, then grabbed his own furs. They turned their backs to each other and began changing.

It took a little while, but Aria finally figured out how to get the odd outfit on. The clothing was surprisingly comfortable. Not something you would get at Nordstrom, maybe, but a far cry from caveman quality.

She looked at the flume again, wondering if this was the only way back to her own world. If she left this cave, would she be able to find it again? A million more questions buzzed through her head, but before she could ask any of them, her uncle turned around with a serious look in his eyes and said, "Before we go any further, do you have anything with you that you brought from Earth?"

She was confused. "Uhhh, yeah, my IPod and fanny pack." She had dropped her bag somewhere back in the caves; probably while she was running from mountain lions. Technically, she also had her underwear on, but decided not to mention that.

He shook his head. "You'll have to leave them here. We can't take anything from one territory to another. Ever. For any reason." He put a great deal of emphasis on the point.

She was about to object, but the look in his eyes told her not to. Instead she simply took off her fanny pack, stowing her IPod inside, and asked, "Why? What's so important about it?"

He paused for a moment before continuing. "Each territory is completely unique. They have, as I said, their own unique people, cultures, and technologies. Not every territory is at the same technological level as our own. Some are more advanced. Others, like this one, are significantly less advanced. Can you imagine what it would do to a culture if you were to introduce a piece of technology that shouldn't exist on this planet for another thousand years?" He said this while nodding at her fanny pack, which contained her IPod among other things.

She thought about that for a few moments before saying, "It would probably cause a huge problem. They might become more advanced than they have any right to be. They wouldn't know how to use the technology, so they might mess things up with it pretty bad." That being said, she wasn't exactly sure what harm they could manage with a music player.

He nodded. "Exactly. It would cause chaos, and could toss the entire territory into turmoil." With that he turned and began walking to the cave entrance. Aria glanced back at the flume once more, then reluctantly turned away from it to follow her uncle.

As they walked away, she began to ask another question. "So what –" She was cut off abruptly as they stepped outside. Her uncle had held up his hand in a gesture to freeze. She wondered what had caused his sudden reaction. There had been nothing out here but rocks and snow a few minutes ago.

He was staring at the yellow spikes jutting from the ground. He glanced back at her, his eyes wide and his body language tense. He held his finger to his mouth in a 'shush' gesture, and softly began walking to the sled under the overhang, taking care to give the rocks a wide berth.

Aria was worried, but still curious. Were the rocks dangerous somehow? Did they have some sort of toxic properties? She decided it would be better to ask later when they were away. She followed her uncle's example, walking softly and not daring to approach the stones.

Quietly, her uncle prepared the sled for use. It seemed to be made out of ropes and carved wood. No metal. A pair of what looked like deer antlers were attached to the front, and seemed to offer some kind of steering. It was more than big enough for two, and as Uncle Press got everything in working order, she realized that the trip down the mountain was not going to be a pleasant one. Although the sled looked sturdy, the slope was steep, and the controls didn't look at all modern. Another thing she noticed, with some trepidation, was that there were long, nasty looking spears mounted on the sides. Were they expecting trouble?

At last her uncle reached into the sled and pulled out a couple of small objects. They looked like wooden whistles attached to long leather cords. He passed one to her, and then put his own around his neck. She followed suit, and together they started pushing the sled. Again, they took care to give the rocky field a lot of space, and soon they were almost to the point where they could just hop in and ride the rest of the way down. Finally, her uncle motioned for her to get in, still being as silent as possible. It looked like whatever those yellow spikes were, they wouldn't be bothering them today. She hopped into the sleigh, sitting on one of the carved wooden seats.

Just as she started to relax, the snow a few yards off to their left started to move. There was a small yellow spike jutting just an inch or two out of the snow. They hadn't noticed it until then because it was so small. Uncle Press looked over at it, then turned back to Aria and said, "Time to get gone." He hopped in and started them moving. Aria gripped the sides of the sled tightly as gravity began taking over.

A few moments later, Aria discovered why the spikes were such a bit deal. Turns out they were attached to something. As she watched, the snow was heaved to the side, and an enormous animal burst up; with an earsplitting roar, it began charging after them.

Adrenaline shot through her body for the third time that day. So much for being quiet. Behind them, the snow began to churn as all of the creatures hidden beneath awoke. There must have been at least a dozen of them, and they all seemed intent on catching up to the sleigh.

Aria's heart was pounding. They looked like giant bears, but not quite like any species she had ever seen before. The smallest among them could contend with a full grown grizzly, and they were faster than they looked. The one that had awoken first was gaining on the sleigh rapidly. It was the size of a small car, with thick, matted grey fur and stupid, hateful yellow eyes. It had a row of sharp, jagged spines protruding from its back, and its maw looked big enough to swallow a beach ball without too much difficulty. As she looked to her uncle, she was surprised to find that he didn't seem terribly worried. Just focused. He had taken over the controls and was making sure they didn't bash into any boulders on their way down. The way things were going, however, it looked like boulders would be the least of their worries.

The bear closest to them was only about ten feet away and gaining speed faster than they were. Finally, Uncle Press spoke. "Take the controls!" He shouted, "I'll deal with the quig!"

Quig? Was that what this thing was called? She didn't take the time to ponder it, as she was now in charge of making sure they didn't die in a collision. Terrified, not knowing what she was doing, she grabbed the antlers and tested the steering. Push left, move right. Push right, move left. Inverted controls. Not too tough.

Unfortunately, she was never much one for sledding, or driving, or racing games, and her reflexes left much to be desired. She focused everything on the task at hand, and just barely managed to avoid the bounders rushing at her at an alarming speed. She almost hit one, the side of their sled clipping the massive rock. The quig, intent on its meal, wasn't quick enough to dodge and bashed its shoulder into the side, slowing it down. This gave Press enough to time unlash one of the spears from the side of the sleigh. "Nice one!" He called back to her.

Yeah, because she had totally done that on purpose.

By now the other quigs were gaining. They were only about five feet behind the closest one. It didn't look like they would be getting away without some serious intervention. She was gripping the antlers so hard she was afraid her hands would freeze to them. Still, her uncle didn't look too concerned. He looked intently at the incoming quig, and when it got within seven feet again, he called back to her, "When I say, 'now', blow the whistle around your neck!" She was confused. She didn't see what one whistle was going to do against a dozen giant, predatory…uh…quigs. He seemed to sense her doubt. "Don't worry! We only need to get one of them!"

She was still focusing on not bashing them into the side of a boulder, but she managed to grab the whistle and shove it between her lips. She was ready to blow whenever the signal came.

Uncle Press waited, spear poised, standing on a sled that was going 25 miles an hour down a steep, icy slope, as a giant bear rushed forward with the intention of ripping him into tiny, bite sized pieces. He still looked calm. "Ready?" She couldn't really let him know without taking the whistle out of her mouth, so she just waited for the signal. "Now!" He yelled.

She blew. At first her heart sank; the whistle didn't make a sound. She figured it must have been broken. Then, a moment later, the quig behind them bellowed in pain and faltered. It must have been one of those silent whistles, like the ones only dogs could hear.

As the quig opened its mouth to roar, Press heaved the spear straight into its gullet. It hit dead on. Blood spurted gruesomely out of the horrible wound, and the quig collapsed. It clawed at the spear, inadvertently driving it deeper.

The other quigs, to Aria's intense relief, lost interest in them. They all pounced on the bleeding quig, tearing into it like sharks in a feeding frenzy. Aria listened to its pained screams, feeling slightly ill. Quigs, it seemed, were cannibals.

She tried not to focus on what was behind her, instead diverting her attention to what lay ahead. At last, Uncle Press moved back to the front and took over the controls. Aria was glad to sit back and let him deal with the rest of the trip.

Her heart was still pounding from the ordeal. The quig's dying screams rang in her ears. They remained silent for the rest of their trip down the mountain. After a while the snow began to thin, and trees began to appear among the boulders. They had nearly reached the base of the mountain when Press finally spoke.

"So, how are you holding up?" He sounded nonchalant, but Aria could tell he was concerned. He always asked her that after she'd had a bad fright.

She wasn't sure about the answer to that question, but decided to do what she always did. Play it tough until she got her feet back under her. "Fine, I guess. So what were those things?"

Her uncle was starting to slow the sled now that the boulders were thinning out. He pulled back on the antlers and said, "Quigs. Saint Dane put them there to guard the flume. Whichever territory he's on, you can be sure quigs will be there too."

Aria's eyes widened. "He can just, like, summon giant bears to do his bidding?" That didn't seem fair at all.

"Sorta," he said. She wished he would stop saying that. Why couldn't the answer ever be a simple 'yes'? "The quigs take on different form depending on where they are. On Earth they were mountain lions."

Aria remembered something then. She hadn't made the connection earlier, but now she recalled an unnerving similarity between the quig bears and the mountain lions. "The mountain lions in the caves and the bears that were just chasing us had the same eyes." It was true. They both had glowering, hateful yellow eyes…and a nasty disposition.

He nodded. "Quigs always do. It's a dead giveaway. That and the fact that they try to kill anything they see. Fortunately, they're almost always found exclusively near flumes."

That was comforting, but she was still worried. "Uhhh, don't we need to get to the flumes to travel to different territories?"

Uncle Press winced slightly. "Yeah."

Aria's heart sank. It looked like a long hike and some cold weather weren't going to be the only things standing in her way of getting back to Earth.

Finally the sled skidded to a stop. The snow was just about gone, and a forest stretched in front of them. When they reached the edge of the snowfield, Uncle Press hopped out and tossed his whistle onto the seat. "Let's go," he said, then began walking off into the foliage.

Aria took off her whistle as well, then changed her mind and put it back on, stowing it beneath her furs. If she was going to have any chance at getting back home, she would need that whistle. She took off after her uncle, and decided that it was time to get some more answers. "So, you said you would answer more questions on the way to where we were going. First off: where are we going?"

He glanced back as he replied, "There's a village a few miles away. That's where the trouble is."

She wasn't worried about the distance. She had been on longer hikes before. "So what's going on? Are the people there in trouble? Unless I can help with sewing needles and piano music, I don't think there's a lot I can do."

He smiled back at her. "Trust me, there is."

She sighed in frustration. There were some seriously rough feelings threatening to surface, but for the moment frustration was a good way to keep them at bay.

She decided she needed to know more about the situation. "Ok, so what's the deal? Why are they in trouble? Are they under attack? Dealing with a plague? Natural disaster?" She really hoped not. She couldn't fight, she didn't want to get sick, and she wasn't strong enough to help with reconstruction of any sort.

"No," Uncle Press said, "It's a lot less obvious that all that. Even I'm not one hundred percent certain of what's going on." Oh. How reassuring. "What I do know is that Saint Dane wouldn't be here if something very important wasn't about to happen."

There was that name again. Saint Dane. "Who's he?" She asked, "And why is he here? What is he doing? Why was he shooting at us?" She decided she would like to know as much as possible about the man who seemed to be causing all of her troubles. It looked like his interference was the reason her uncle was here, and therefore the reason she was as well.

"That…is a long story." He seemed to be gathering himself to give a careful explanation. "He goes from territory to territory causing trouble. He finds a point in a world's history that will determine whether the territory continues down a road of peace and prosperity, or falls into chaos. These times are called turning points."

This was getting a bit cosmic for her, but she tried to follow along. "So you're saying that he can travel through time, find a moment in history so crucial that it will make or break the territory, then influence that moment to send the entire world toppling into disarray?" She figured he was about to say, 'sorta'.

"Yes." He replied.

She sighed.

"So…why does he want to do that? What does he stand to gain?" He couldn't just be some cheesy bad guy who wanted to set the world on fire just to watch it burn. He had to have a motive.

"That's…" he paused again. "Also difficult to explain."

He didn't say anything else, much to Aria's annoyance. She was getting really frustrated with these crappy half-answers.

She decided she would approach that later. There were other things she needed to know about. She was quiet for a few moments as she looked around. The forest they were walking through looked fairly temperate. Tall trees with brown bark were spread sparsely around, leaves fanning out, shading them slightly as the trekked along a nonexistent path. "So I couldn't help but notice that he can shape-shift."

"Yeah. That's one of the things that makes him so hard to beat. You'll never see Saint Dane standing at the front of an army calling out orders, or standing in the streets preaching his view. He takes on a new form whenever he goes to a new territory. He may be anyone from a simple merchant to a royal advisor. He worms his way into a society, pretending to offer help or guidance. Instead he's leading people towards disaster."

She let that sink in. "So we might not actually be able to tell who Saint Dane is? He could be anyone?"

Press nodded. "Exactly. Chances are the only way you'll know who he is for sure is if he wants you to know."

Aria shook her head. This was all way too much for her. "So what's to stop him from destroying the territories? It sounds like he has the power to do it. What's holding him back?"

Press looked back at her calmly and said, "That would be us."

Aria's eyes widened. She knew her uncle was pretty awesome, but this sounded a bit out of his league. Fighting a shape-shifting time traveler as he roamed around the universe(s), summoning quigs and bringing about chaos? Even her uncle had his limits.

And what we all this stuff about 'we'? She didn't know anything about this! This wasn't her battle, and even if it was, she didn't have the skills to tackle something like that. Heck, if he had been so inclined, that Saint Dane guy probably could have killed her twice by now! What in the world – or worlds – made her uncle so certain that she was up to the task?

Sensing her disbelief, Uncle Press continued to explain. "There are people out there whose job it is to fight Saint Dane. They are the protectors of the territories, and it's their responsibility to make sure that he doesn't get away with his plans. These people are called Travelers. I'm one, and so are you."

Aria's head was spinning. They probably hadn't walked more than a mile in this time, but she felt like she needed to sit down. She plunked down on a fallen tree, staring at the dirt. This was way too much for her to take in. Her? A…Traveler? It was supposed to be her job to follow that mad man Saint Dane around the universe, making sure he didn't destroy it? She couldn't even keep Jenna Jordan from destroying her reputation at school!

She shook her head. "No. I'm sorry, Uncle Press, but this is way too much for me. There's no way I can do what you're asking me to. I'm just a kid. I'm a student, a bookworm, a pianist! What do you expect me to do? Just pick up and leave everything I've ever known so I can risk my life fighting quigs, traveling around the universe, following…that guy? He almost shot me! Twice! I was nearly eaten by quigs! Twice! Why couldn't you pick someone else to do this? Anyone else would be more qualified than me. Anyone else."

Press sighed.

"I know it's difficult to understand, but you have to trust me on this. You're the right person for the job. In fact, you're the only person for the job. You're the Traveler for your territory. Also, you're wrong about what you're capable of. You're more than qualified for this."

She shook her head again. How could she be? All she wanted to do was go home, curl up in her bed and forget all about Saint Dane, and quigs, and Denduron, and flumes.

They were silent for several minutes. Around them, small creatures roamed quietly about on the forest floor while birds beat their wings noisily overhead. Insects occasionally buzzed by them, and the cold wind drifted silently through the trees.

After a few minutes, Press spoke again.

"It will be getting dark soon, and these woods aren't pleasant at night. We need to get moving."

She looked up at him helplessly. He looked down at her sympathetically.

She stood up, and they started walking.