En route to the Thermal Lake
near the Refuge
one click from the Thermal Lake

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AMELIA DIDN'T know whether to be relieved or disappointed that Luca and Zoey were alive, but sided with Ichabod.

As she studied the make-shift camp (probably a refuge from the griffinflies, which were still surrounding Bradley's house-on-stilts. It had taken her almost an hour to clamber into the house and find and devour some of Bradley's stored and slightly dry dinosaur jerky. She still couldn't get used to the taste), Zoey bandaged someone's head, red seeping into the white. Amelia's gaze traveled longingly over the doctor's bare arms, though her eyes narrowed when she saw the dried blood smeared across Zoey's grey suit.

Had the doctor been injured? Amelia had had to force herself to focus instead of allowing her worries to consume her and send her running down to check on Royson. Even if it hurt her, she had to accept that until further proven, the other woman was one of the enemy.

Amelia bit her lip, forced her gaze away, and looked over the camp again. Luca was fiddling with the EEG, and Ichabod was nowhere in sight. More marines walked around with volt-guns, seeming bored. Some took pot shots at smaller dinosaurs she couldn't recognize at such a distance, which scattered with screams of protest.

She was relieved Lale wasn't among them.

There were nine tents (actual canvas tents!) in total, and one crude canopy tent. Ferns draped from the roof, and papers were scattered across fern matts. Over seventy meters away from the camp, under the cover of towering palms and stout ferns, she couldn't see what was on the pages, but she decided almost immediately that they were important.

Like Amelia was some sort of spy, she wondered whether stealing them would foil Ichabod's evil mastermind plans. Could it be that simple?

Maybe. Maybe not.

Her stomach growled. Loudly.

Amelia ducked, as if Zoey would hear it, and the chipper baby Tanycolagreus responded with a grumbling murmur. She rested her hand on its scaly flank, feeling a pang of regret for grabbing its egg in the first place. Life had become harder for her since Ichabod went rogue - meaning surviving with a young dinosaur would be near impossible!

She'd found it in the remainder of the camp, munching on a griffinfly's plated leg. A full twelve hours had passed between her (not intentionally) abandoning the hatchling, but the young creature seemed more lively than ever, surveying the world with eyes that seemed too big for its head and twisting a head too heavy for its body.

Amelia had begun calling it Eddie for lack of any better inspiration; Edward if found to be male, and Edelia if found to be female. She hadn't checked; had been too busy scavenging for something to eat to care to.

Amelia sighed, tilting her head back against the fern she was hiding behind to contemplate her options. She could keep doing for the lake and hope Lale was there and not dead. Or she could take her chances and snatch the papers from the refuge camp, and risk capture and most likely death at the hands of Ichabod.

The latter option appealed to her most, for some reason or other. Maybe she wanted to take matters into her own hands for once. Besides, what did she have to lose?

Internally, Amelia grimaced at that thought. My life. I could be risking Luca and Zoey's lives. She flexed her hands and peered down at her foot. Make-shift tourniquet applied and ready to stop any blood flow, the jagged bite across her calf was dirty, but she was sure she'd live. Unless some prehistoric germ gets in and starts rotting me from the inside out.

She shook her head, another grimace making her tense. She rolled her shoulders - felt the sore spot on her back burn - before she looked around the fern again.

Zoey and her patient were gone. The papers fluttered in the breeze. Two marines were arguing, the tops of their heads visible above a tent.

Now or never.

Placing the Tanycolagreus' blanket over its head, she sucked in a tiny breath and held it like a bubble inside her chest. She had this weird assimilation with the fact that when that bubble burst, she would get caught. And Amelia couldn't get caught.

Striding as quickly as one and three-quarter legs could get her, she ducked low and ignored the protesting of her stiff joints after more than an hour's worth of walking in thick undergrowth. Amelia reached the closest tent with no problems, and she released that bubble with another breath.

Keep going, Amelia, she coaxed herself, peeking around the grey-and-brown material to spy the papers weighted underneath rocks. Her heart fluttered with nerves, but what she was doing was nothing compared to getting chased by dinosaurs.

Not even Ichabod's wrath could scare her like a pack of Tanycolagreuses out for her blood.

With this thought in mind (as if it was a comfort!) she darted underneath the canopy, hearing the raised voices of the marines to her right. If one happened to look her way, there were no tents to hide her. Seconds flew by as she scrabbled to grab the pages, sweat collecting just under her hairline.

She snatched the last one just as Amelia noticed movement in her peripheral vision; without a sound, even though her heart was throbbing right out of her chest, she darted behind the tent she'd been hiding behind before. The marines were right around the corner of the pegs and moving closer, their shadows falling across the squishy ground.

Her dark brown eyes were resting on her footprints. Nothing she could do about the tracks - at least she had the papers. They shook slightly in her grip, and smudges smeared across where she held them.

"- Ichabod should stop treating us like a bunch of slaves and actually get to paying up his part of the deal," the one marine argued, his voice raspy. Through the tent's flimsy material, Amelia could spy his silhouette as he turned to his shorter comrade. The marine who had spoken spat.

"So why don't you tell him that, Vince?" The shorter comrade challenged. Amelia felt more beads of sweat trickling down her neck. She couldn't move, frightened the marines would see her own silhouette do so on the other side of the tent.

"Ichabod doesn't listen to anyone," Vince declared like the guy he was arguing with was stupid. "Still, its a nice thought."

"Men!" Amelia felt a jolt of longing, a reignited ache that she hadn't even known was there, at the sound of Zoey's voice. Her tone was crisp. "Do you need a civil invitation to guard the perimeter? Or has Ichabod recruited a bunch of whiny teenagers on steroids instead of actual marines?"

Amelia heard the marines grumble and could even smell Dr Zoey (a mixture of blood and alcoholic swabs) at her closeness - right around the corner of the tent. She had to bite down on her lip to not reach out and touch the other woman, the pang of loss she felt in her chest almost enough to make her gasp. Was Zoey truly on Ichabod's side?

Why wouldn't she tell me? Amelia had to clamp down on that thought. Stupid wandering wouldn't make the situation any better. But she couldn't help but feel a niggle of suspicion in her gut that Zoey wasn't on Ichabod's team.

But then whose is she on? Amelia felt her brow furrow, and it was like parts of Lale surfaced from the depths of her soul. This is a war, and we can't have any stragglers. It's either one side or the other.

Horrified at where her thoughts had taken her, Amelia refocused and tensed as the marines walked past, volt-guns clacking in their hands. Zoey released a small sigh. Her dark hair was visible around the corner, before the doctor turned and began to walk after the quietened soldiers.

Amelia acted before she could stop herself; maybe to prove her darkest thoughts wrong. Zoey is still good, a desperate thought flashed as she caught the woman's arm. She didn't focus on the blatant naïvety, pressing a finger to her lips as Zoey reeled back, already flinching.

When recognition flooded Royson's eyes, Amelia hadn't even opened her mouth to speak yet before Zoey's was on hers. Amelia fought to keep her balance without flailing her arms, stilling them to press the crumpled papers in her palms on Zoey's sides and returning the doctor's ferocity.

Zoey pulled away first, and Amelia had to hiss sharply for the air she so badly needed. But she needed Zoey too. The doctor kept eyes with her, her forehead resting against Amelia's own. Too many thoughts were swirling to pinpoint any of them besides the one Amelia so badly wanted to believe - surely Zoey was on Amelia (and hopefully Lale's) side? Why would she still act that way to Amelia if she wasn't?

Lale resurfaced as an unconscious thought. His grey eyes were darker than Zoey's, and Amelia felt guilt heat her face. Was it wrong to be thinking of someone else post-kiss? She was glad the heat and embarrassment was enough to hide her new blush.

"What are you doing here, Amelia?" Zoey whispered, her voice tinged with concern. Amelia pulled away, too disconcerted by her sudden thoughts on Lale to hold the contact. She held up the papers as an excuse, her leg paining.

"These plans ... they must mean something, right?"

Zoey nodded, her eyes fixed on the pages. "Definitely. The EEG will probably have copies, though ..."

Amelia realized with a sinking feeling in her stomach that Zoey was right. Amelia flexed her jaw in sudden anger. Had she risked her neck for nothing? Why hadn't she thought of that before?

"But anything can be used to fight back," Zoey added quickly, perhaps recognizing the look in Amelia's eyes. The paleontologist nodded tightly.

"Yeah."

Voices clamoring shifted her attention - people were approaching, heading for the canopy. The sight sparked a flood of worry through Amelia. They'd notice the missing pages. And then they'd look for her. Amelia swallowed, and didn't dare look at Zoey.

And then, the doctor would hide it ... surely?

"You have to go." All too soon, their brief reunion was cut short. More frustration bubbled forth; Amelia cursed herself for spending valuable time with Zoey doubting the other woman.

"Come with me," Amelia said quickly, gripping hold of Zoey's arm. The doctor's heartbeat felt steady under her fingers, contrasting greatly from her own. "Please," Amelia gritted her teeth, her insides wrenching pleadingly. "You'll be safer with the others."

Amelia knew what Zoey was going to say the second before Zoey answered. Her heart tightened, and Amelia released the doctor's wrist as Zoey murmured a quiet, "No."

There was hardly any time to question her. No time to beg and plead and scream or kiss her again, even though Amelia wanted to do all those things at once. Raised voices alerted her of the fact that the marines had discovered what she had done.

"I have things to find out," Zoey's words were firm, but Amelia had already turned away to run, so she couldn't see the other girl's eyes. "And so do you."

They were back to the riddles. The clues Zoey had given her back at the training facility before everything had gone south.

As Amelia half-stumbled, half-ran back to her hiding spot, her fingers cramping and tight around the pages pressed to her chest, she felt her heart break a little. A physical slam in the chest rendered her almost unable to breathe through the pricking of tears behind her eyes.

Why, Zoey? Was all she wanted to scream behind her. Why?

Amelia kept running, seventy meters and a fern feeling like hundreds upon hundreds of miles between them, growing ever wider.

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