Deslock opened the door and drew a machete from his belt. That firmly in hand he stepped out into the courtyard, half expecting something large and dangerous to be there waiting for him.
In the courtyard was nothing but dirt and leaves. Okay, then.
Deslock tried to move quietly across the courtyard, stepped on a dry leaf, winced, and gave up stealth. He slid up beside the empty doorway that led to the clearing around the tower and peered around the corner. Nothing stared back at him: there was dirt and stone, swiftly giving way to vegetation. The jungle seemed empty, somehow. Deslock didn't see a single living creature.
"Looks clear," he said dubiously. "Let's go." He led the way out of the tower, moving fast and low, expecting at any moment to be attacked by something--a bird, a boar, a tiger,
something. Nothing ever came.
Behind him, smoke rose from the ruined tower.
_________________________
The Doctor looked over the papers which Derlan had returned with a feeling of intense relief. They weren't even stained--the words still legible, the ink still crisp. He slid the papers securely into his satchel.
"Thank you," he said to Derlan. "If you would pay me a visit once we return to the ship, I would greatly appreciate it...for the moment, though, there is much to do!"
Besides the attacking birds and ruined clothing this was turning out to be an excellent day for the Doctor. Beautiful weather, he had his papers back, and he had found a new pet--an excellent specimen, to be sure. Time to see how far his luck would go.
The Doctor returned to the jungle, not running this time, but at a reasonable stroll, following the marks he had carved into the trees earlier. He'd set his trap down around here somewhere...on this little path, perhaps? No, not this one...ah,
here it was.
Caught in the trap was a rabbit, nose quivering nervously, hind legs twitching and scrabbling. It was in most ways an ordinary rabbit, except that its fur was a dark, glossy green. And its ears looked shorter than he recalled being usual--he'd have to get accurate measurements.
The Doctor lifted the creature and stroked its fur absently. "Interesting," he said. The rabbit wasn't particularly exotic, not exactly
exiting, but it would do.
_________________________
"Hey! Yeah, you! About fucking face, I don't want to be talking to the back of your head!"
"Sorry sir! Yes sir!"
Deslock had caught up to the sailors who had been following Garril, who looked both surprised and relieved: surprised, because they didn't expect to see the Expedition leader on their trail, and relieved because now they didn't have to figure out what to do. That was someone else's job now.
"Where's Rasput?" Deslock asked.
"We don't know, sir," said the sailor with the musket. "We were running behind him, because we'd stopped to deal with the tiger he'd killed--you may have seen it, sir--and we haven't caught up to him."
Deslock peered at the trail ahead, which ended abruptly in a cliff, dropping a good thirty feet to the water below. "Yes, I can see that."
"We think he may have fallen off the cliff, sir," offered one of the sailors. "He was kind of single-minded about the whole trailblazing thing."
"You don't say," said Deslock. "What the hell. He could use a good swim, I'm sure. A fall like that isn't about to kill him. Come on, we're wasting time."
He turned back to the Expedition members. "We were going to the beach, right? To try and figure out this whole smuggler thing? The cliff slopes to the left here, so I'm guessing there'll be a beach off that way, which is where they'll have landed. Let's go."
"Smugglers, sir?" asked one of the sailors.
"The place is called Smuggler's Isle," said Deslock, "and there's another ship here. You get three guesses as to who they might be."
"So that'd be that ship out there, right?" said the sailor, nodding in the direction of the sea.
"Yeah," Deslock said, staring out through the branches at the black-tarred ship, "that would be it." He paused to shade his eyes. "Is that smoke? Looks like they've got a little fire on board."
It was approaching the beach that they found the body. Or, rather, the remains of the body, as there wasn't much left of it. Someone had taken a living creature and rendered it down to this smear of blood, viscera and ragged bones. Things were just...
missing. Most of the ribcage, for example, and the hands. The bones were recognizable as humanoid, but beyond that it was impossible to tell who or what this person may have been.
The bloody remains were stashed in the forest, just beyond the beach, which was covered in refuse and garbage. A fire pit still smoldered there, and bottles, empty wineskins and other rubbish were scattered on the sand. There were also bodies--animals, killed by blade or bullet or crossbow. Near the waves there were marks in the sand where a longboat had shoved off, not too long ago.
Of those who had been eating and resting here, there was no sign.
