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leggings. At the same time she felt the pain in her belly. For the past few days, she realised, she’d been so drugged up that she had failed to notice the usual pre-menstrual cramps. There was nothing she could do about it now, short of washing in the river and making herself some kind of makeshift breech cloth.
    She left the cave and stepped out into the bright orange morning sunlight. The three Gargoyles were stationed between the caves and the bank of the river, maintaining odd, contorted postures and staring into space.
    Corrie hurried down to the river, stripped off her leggings and dunked them in the river. She washed them in the thick, oily water as best she could, then laid them on the sand and waded back into the warm water, aware that she had been wallowing in her own excrement for days in that cave. The water of this infernal planet might not have been all the appetising, but it served well enough to cleanse the accumulated filth from her body. She submerged herself, luxuriating in the sensation.
    Later, she tore a strip of fabric from her shirt, folded it and stuffed it into the gusset of her dried leggings.
    No sooner had she returned to the cave than one of the three Gargoyles followed her in and grasped her arm in a sharp, pincer grip. It pulled her from the cave and pushed her away down the shelving incline. The other two aliens joined it before the cave and the three then adopted the statue-still, twisted postures of old.
    Corrie watched them, shivering at the touch of the alien’s fingers on her upper arm. Clearly, then, she was persona non grata in the cave. From now on she would be forced to look after herself, while keeping a close eye on the welfare of the rest of her team. Perhaps it would be for the best. If she could survive until the Darwinian returned, she could tell the rescue team where to find the others.
    She waded across the river and for the next couple of hours searched the margin of the jungle for edible fruits. She found a couple of the crusty pineapple growths, and a few berries she knew to be just about edible.
    By the time she returned to the river and squatted on the bank opposite the limestone caves, another eviction had taken place. She was in time to see one of the Gargoyles escort Rachel from the cave and push her roughly towards the river. The African stumbled, fell. Corrie could hear her cries of anguish, and at the same time as experiencing compassion for the woman, she felt also the pleasure of knowing that she was no longer the only outcast.
    She waded into the river and up the other side. Rachel was lying in the sand, semi-conscious and whimpering. She wore only leggings, having discarded her tunic to combat the increased heat of this latitude. Corrie helped her to her feet and half-carried her into the water. They crossed the river and Corrie laid Rachel in the shade of a spreading bush with broad, palmate leaves. She felt safer here, with the river separating them from the Gargoyles.
    She lay down beside Rachel and slept.

    When she awoke, the sun was setting and the eviction of undesirables from the cave was complete.
    She came awake suddenly, wondering where she was. She blinked up at the broad palm leaf above her head, and the events of that morning came back to her. She sat up quickly. Rachel was lying beside her, smiling in greeting.
    Corrie reached out and touched her hand. “How’re you feeling?”
    Rachel sat up, stretching. “Fine, now. I no longer feel...” She shrugged. “Drugged, I suppose.”
    “Any idea why the Gargoyles evicted you?”
    Corrie had assumed that they had thrown her from the cave because she had refused to eat the fruit – but Rachel had been compliant, and still she had been evicted.
    She shrugged again. “I don’t know. One minute I was half-asleep – or rather half-drugged – and then one of the aliens was dragging me from the cave.”
    Corrie looked up, across the river, and saw two figures – human figures – lying side by