After about twenty minutes of digging, Marguerite is tired.  She isn’t made for strenuous physical labor.  She complains, “Besides ruining my nails, I don’t know what good this is doing.”

“Look at the rest of the wall, Marguerite,” Veronica instructs, continuing to dig.   “It’s clay and limestone, these rocks are granite.  Somebody put them ( Read more... )

Marguerite groans.  She is someplace cool, hard and quiet.  She sits up slowly, “I think I’ve missed a step.”  She fell into a well.  A well?  Really?

Veronica’s voice corrects, “It’s better than being dinner.”

“Only just; that’s the last time I play follow the leader with you,” she touches her head gingerly.  And she’d just bathed the ( Read more... )

Marguerite is using the last of her bubble bath from Paris.  She knows that she ought to have waited for a more momentous occasion, but she needs a bath today.  She needs to pretend that she is not stuck in the middle of a jungle with no way to get back to Paris.  No one should ever be cut off from Paris indefinitely.

Reluctantly leaving the ( Read more... )