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volcanoes eastward glowed blood red.
    “Thanks,” Kylis said again. Chuzo hesitated, but
Troi nodded and left. After a moment Chuzo followed him.
    Gryf leaned heavily on her, but she could support him. She
tried to turn toward the shelters and their meager stock of medical supplies,
but he resisted weakly and guided her toward the waterfall. If he wanted to go
there first, he must think his wounds had been contaminated.
    “Gods,” Kylis whispered. Clumsily, they hurried.
She wished Jason had heard her, for with him they could have gone faster. It
was her fault he was not there. She could not hold Gryf up alone without
hurting his back.
    Gryf managed a smile, just perceptible, telling her, I hurt
but I am strong.
    Yes, Kylis thought, stronger than Jason, stronger than me.
We’ll survive. They continued.
    “Kylis! Gryf!”
    Gryf stopped. Kylis let him, with relief. Jason splashed
toward them.
    Gryf’s knees buckled. Kylis strained to keep him out
of the mud, away from more parasites. Jason reached them and picked Gryf up.
    “Could you hear me?” Kylis asked.
    “No,” Jason said. “I woke up and came
looking. Where are you taking him?”
    “To the overflow pipe.”
    Jason needed no explanation of the dangers of infection. He
carried Gryf toward the waterfall, swearing softly.
    The cooling towers from the steam wells produced the only
safe water the prisoners had for bathing. It spewed from a pipe to a concrete
platform and spilled from there to the ground, forming a muddy pool that spread
into the forest. The water was too hot for anyone to go directly beneath the
cascade. Jason stopped in knee-deep hot water. They were all standing in heavy
spray.
    Jason held Gryf against his chest while Kylis splashed water
on Gryf’s back from her cupped hands. She washed him as gently as she
could and still be safe. She found no parasites and none of their eggs. The
water swept away mud and sweat, turning Jason gold and bright pink and Kylis
auburn and Gryf all shades of dark brown and tan.
    Kylis cursed the Lizard. He knew he would look bad in the
eyes of the tetra committee if Gryf were crushed or bled to death or went home
with everything but his brain. But he would look worse if he could not force
Gryf to go home at all.
    Gryf’s eyelids flickered. His eyes were bright blue,
flecked irregularly with black.
    “How do you feel?”
    He smiled, but he had been hurt — she could see the
memory of pain. They had touched his spirit. He looked away from her and made
Jason let him turn. He staggered. His knees would not support him, which seemed
to surprise him. Jason held him up, and Gryf took the last thin flake of
antiseptic soap from Kylis’ hand.
    “What’s the matter?” she asked.
    Gryf turned her around. For a moment his touch was painful,
then she felt the sharp sting of soap on raw flesh. Gryf showed her his hand,
which glittered with a mass of tiny, fragile eggs like mica flakes. Gryf used
up her soap scrubbing her side, and Jason got out what soap he had left.
    “This cut’s pretty deep but it’s clean
now. You must have fallen and smashed a nest.”
    “I don’t remember — “ She had a
kinesthetic memory, from running down into the Pit. “Yes, I do...”
It hit her then, a quick shock of the fear of what might have been —
agony, paralysis, senility — if Gryf had not noticed, if the eggs had
healed beneath her skin and hatched. Kylis shuddered.
    They returned to the compound, supporting Gryf between them.
The wall-less, stilt-legged shelters were almost deserted.
    Jason climbed the slanted ladder to their shelter backward,
leaning against it for stability while he helped Gryf. The steps were slick
with yellow lichen. Kylis chinned herself onto the platform. In their floor
locker she had to paw through little stacks of Jason’s crumbling ration
bars before she found their mold poultice and the web box. She had been very
hungry, but she had never eaten any of her friend’s hoarded food. She
would not