Dinoplot.

[quite_a_delight]

The ground was even, and then it wasn't. Mid-step on the relative safety of Compound concrete, an out of date copy of the New York Times tucked under one arm and a cup of chai in hand, Marshall Gregson faltered, tumbling splat face down in mud that hadn't been there before. There was scalding chai splattered all down his front, and he moaned --

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[not_the_fish]

Hal hasn't slept this poorly since the night of the Haslett tournament, staring at the ceiling trying, not to memorize the opening of his arguments, but to prove to himself that he could actually say the words over and over if he wanted to

[quite_a_delight]

There was a warm weight against his leg, and under any other circumstances, that might've been nice. But these weren't other circumstances. This was the morning after what had quite possibly been the worst night of his life. Marshall Gregson had never been much of a tree climber, his grace and balance left much to be desired, and he'd spent most of the night terrified that, in his sleep, he'd tumble to the ground and break his neck.

Sitting all night in a tree with his spine stiff against a tree trunk, practically clinging for dear life, wasn't all that comfortable, apparently.

He'd dozed off and on, but sleep had been pretty much out of the question. Blinking groggily, he climbed unsteadily down onto Hal's branch, managing a weak smile and a hoarse, "Hi."

[headofaccounts]

The only answer that Pete volunteered (from a few branches along) was a grunt, which was about all that he really could muster. It didn't seem too shabby given the state the rest of his companions were in. Like Marshall, he'd only been able to manage to sleep in moments, waking up again every now and then in terror of some new creature poking its ugly head out of the darkness.

Despite still being in one piece, it seemed that consciousness under sleep-deprived circumstances wasn't something that agreed with Pete terribly well, as, in his attempt to get out of the tree in which he had spent one of the worst nights of his life, he simply fell like a bird struck by a stone.

Given his lack of any real response before getting to his feet, it seemed that the fall hadn't done him that much damage.

[backward]

Contrary to popular belief, Effy Stonem does not have a death wish. Not one strong enough to compel her to wander off alone in the dark through dinosaur-infested lands, anyway. After an entire day on her feet - walking, running, and occasionally wondering if one can go mad from being forced to spend night and day with these three - she falls asleep quickly; it's remaining so that becomes the problem. The slightest of sounds cause her to wake, every muscle that hasn't gone numb stiffening at the smallest things - a sharp breath from below or a gust of wind that rustles the leaves in the tree just so. For the most part, she's awake when the others begin to stir, calling out for reassurance that they haven't been abandoned in the night, and simultaneously disappointed that it wasn't all a terrible dream. Effy doesn't have to question it; sleep is required to dream, and there's an evident shortage going around

[not_the_fish]

Given hardly a moment to work up a smile for Marshall, Hal nearly jumps out of his skin when Pete goes crashing through the leaves and lands on the ground. Unnerved into a deeper silence, he holds tight to the branch with both hands before leaning over to look down, expecting like, a body, or a swarm of those little dinosaurs returning. When he only finds the top of Pete's head, already pulling himself up off the ground, and it feels like everyone else is waiting as much as he is, he calls, "Arrre you, uh, are you, are you okay?"

In the back of his head he can hear Niko, who doesn't sound so unlike the voice he already thinks with, the one that can speak so clearly and evenly; Niko is a new voice though, a new guide, because he doesn't think the old him would stare down at Pete and think that they just made a lot of noise. "You should uh, yeahhh...you should probably, probably get back up here. Like now."

[quite_a_delight]

Alongside Hal's stricken, wide-eyed face appeared Marshall's, peering over the side of the same branch, hovering somewhere between Effy's outright laughter and Hal's worry. He wasn't the type to laugh at others' misfortunes, but the calm, collected way that Pete gathered himself to his feet was more than a little amusing.

"There's a good chance the whole island knows where we are, now. Maybe we should move."

[headofaccounts]

"Which will it be?" Pete asked, shielding his eyes with one hand as he looked back up into the try, using his other hand to try to wipe some of the foliage that had gotten stuck to his figure. The general mirth at his fall was something that either passed over his head completely (improbable) or something that he was generally too tired to want to acknowledge.

"Should I be climbing back up or staying down here?"

[backward]

"Staying down there," Effy decides, wrapping her arm around the trunk to lower one boot onto the nearest branch below her own. "I'm not spending all day in this tree," she mutters, her cheek pressed against the bark, both hands now hugging the tree as she climbs lower. The quicker they get moving the better - one day spent exploring the jungle with these three is more than enough for Effy, and she has no intention of making it two. As soon as they're on the move, she'll take the first chance to disappear unnoticed and make her own way out of here.

She's always been better on her own anyway.