by Curt F
El Gato Negra watched with rapt attention as the girl started running, cheering with the rest. The flying machine – the aeroplane bore down on her like some great bird of legend, its vast wings outstretched, cawing and screaming and spitting smoke. It was incredible! El Gato Negra had never seen the like in all her years in the Green.
The girl, Angela, was strong, and not afraid. Selia – El Gato Negra, High Priestess of the People respected her for that. Selia even felt the slightest guilt that one so brave should have to die, but the People, and the Green had to be protected. She had seen the girl survive leaps and falls that would have vexed many of her clan of the Jaguar Cult. The girl had survived the Breath of the Viper, and escaped death at the claws of the Avatar of the Nekara. Now she was running from the flying machine, and if Selia understood the strange customs of the Blancas, she would latch on to the belly of the beast and then climb up and in. To safety, or so she thought.
But Selia had watched and listened, and learned. It was simple enough, wearing the face of the older woman – Gloria Swann – whom she had captured almost three days before. Using the sacred masks, El Gato Negra had stolen the woman's face and memories and taken her place amongst the Blancas. They had accepted her readily; the magicks of the masks letting her speak their vile tongue and tell them the lies that they would believe. Selia had worked her way into their midst, pretending to be the woman, looking for some way to route them and send them away.
She had seen the aeroplane, the great flying machine and thought that the Gods of old had returned to seek their vengeance. The outsiders however had been unaffected by the appearance of the sky beast, and some had actually waved to it, smiling. Selia was astounded to see it wave back. The great beast it seemed was just a machine after all, carrying a man, old and used. Still, Selia had run on ahead of the others to see the machine, to watch it come to earth and investigate its abilities. The old man had been annoyed, as Selia had babbled like a child, but he answered her questions and showed her things; some that confused her, and others that she understood.
She had crept back that night – last night. It was simplicity itself to slip by the feeble, half-dozing men who were guarding the camp atop the high plateau. They were not warriors, just men with their weapons – their guns, and Selia was one with the night. She was the chosen one, High Priestess and Guardian of the Green, and she would not be turned by ones such as they. She slipped into the machine like a shadow, and as quietly, she slit the ropes that held together the ladder that the girl would climb on the morrow. Not enough to sever the links, but enough that the rope would not support her weight. If Selia understood, the girl would be hanging from the flying machine, trying to climb within using the ladder. The ropes would snap and she would fall, regrettably to her death. It would be enough, however, and the invaders would leave, and the Green would return to normal.
So El Gato Negra watched as the girl ran, stumbling as she groped and finally reached the wheels of the machine as it swooped in low. Selia cheered with the rest – it was amazing and she felt her heart beating madly caught up in the excitement. The girl dangled as the aeroplane swooped up and away, gliding softly on the wind. Selia found herself gasping with the rest as the girl groped for the rope ladder flapping in the breeze almost within reach. She cheered when Angela finally grabbed hold. She tried not to cheer when the ladder broke away and the girl started to fall.
There were screams, and almost as one the crowd surged forward, watching as Angela kicked and flailed as she fell. Selia hoped that the girl would hit the top of the plateau and end it all quickly, but all too soon her body vanished, dropping beyond the edge of the hill. Selia cursed as she ran along with the rest, right up to the ledge, though she knew what she would see. The Green stretched out before them, the vast canopy of the jungle rolling away as far as the eye could see. The girl had disappeared into the jungle, her passage lost and ignored save for a flock of birds on the wing at the sudden disturbance.
The girl was dead, and soon the outsiders would leave. They would search, of course, and the jungle might even give up its dead, eventually, but their time here was finally over. Selia bit her cheek, trying not to smile…
Gloria Swann sagged in her bonds, tired and full of self-pity.
She had lost track of the days that she had been held prisoner- four…five? She did not know. All that she knew was that she was miserable. She was hungry and thirsty and she was tired of being tied up.
The cavern that her three captors were keeping her in was huge and dimly lit, with a scattering of torches barely illuminating the walls. Sunlight beamed in from somewhere high above, but it did little to cut the gloom and it never seemed to move, simply winking out at times for short intervals that could not have been a full night. Water dripped, echoing in the distance in a steady rhythm, but Gloria was too weak and tired to focus on it for long. The monotonous dripping seemed to lull her to sleep rather than keep her attentive and focused besides.
Gloria sighed, rotating her wrists again in the coils of rope looped behind her back. She had been trying to gain her freedom forever it seemed, but was actually getting nowhere. She had been retied to the wooden pillar where her captors had originally bound her, finally allowing her enough slack to sit down. They had stretched her arms back and behind the totem pole, lashing her wrists tightly. She was sitting with her back to the pole, her legs crossed at the ankles and bound as well. She was still gagged too, a long strip of leather tied tightly about her head, forcing her teeth apart and holding in a ripped and balled up bit of cloth from her own clothes. The gag hurt cutting into her cheeks and soaking up her saliva. She could not swallow or talk and she could barely move. Gloria twisted her wrists, pulling at the coarse ropes, wishing herself to freedom.
It was humiliating sitting there, hour after hour, totally helpless and dependant upon her captors. She watched them, the two women remaining who held her captive, sitting on rocks on the far side of the cavern. They were dressed almost like the women that made up the extras in her movie; animal skins and leathers for the most part, though they wore some gold and silver jewelry as well. They were beautiful – in a savage sort of way – with long tanned legs and incredibly statuesque bosoms. They were tall as well, both well over Gloria's own five and a half feet, and probably over six. Their hair was wild and in disarray, but thick and lustrous as well. Gloria would have wrecked careers to have hair like that. Gloria felt inadequate in their presence, and worse, humiliated as she was dressed only in her smalls; her dirty, sweat-stained brassiere and silken slip.
The missing leader had stripped Gloria of her clothes after they had captured her in the jungle during a shot. Conveniently she had already been bound and gagged and tied to a carry pole, ready to be hauled away. Gloria had been shooting a scene, along with three of the Amazon extras and had somehow been separated from the rest of the cast and crew. It was one of the earlier scenes from the film, where – according to the script – Gloria was to be captured by real Amazons and taken to their hidden city for sacrifice. Once there, Gloria was to survive many harrowing adventures and eventually make her escape back into the jungle, there to be rescued by Adam Kaine, the film's leading man. It was a simple script really, with a contrived plot but it was what her fans wanted and loved. It was just the type of movie that had made Gloria Swann the Queen of Escapes, and the Number One Starlet in Hollywood!
But still, for all her titles and bravado she was trapped. The leader of the trio, the most exotically beautiful of the Amazons had had her tied to the totem pole in their secret cavern hideout. It was a temple of sorts. At least it appeared to be, complete with a bloodstained altar stone. Archaic weapons, pottery and trinkets were scattered about the cave in haphazard disarray. The pole that she had been tied to was a carved totem; images of strange creatures etched into the hard wood capped with the visage of a giant dark cat. The most frightful thing in the cavern however, beyond the squealing rats she saw scurrying through the darkness, and even the Amazons themselves, was the gargantuan carven image of their idol. It was a figure of a man chiseled from shiny black stone, like obsidian. It was huge, towering almost twelve feet, and amply muscled and endowed. Worst of all was the fearful, snarling face of the panther that it wore. It was like some twisted version of Bast – the Egyptian cat goddess. Gloria wondered if there was some connection in the Amazon's past.
She wondered too what the leader of the Amazons was doing with her face. Gloria had never been one to believe in magic – at least beyond the magic of the movies. Of course, there were the strange occurrences in the Caribbean, and there were places like Stonehenge and Ayers Rock in Australia. Gloria herself had seen the likes of Houdini perform seeming miracles as well, so perhaps she should not jump to any conclusions concerning magic. Still, she felt that there must have been some trick to whatever the Amazon had done to steal Gloria's face. Simple enough to make something glow here in the dim cave with the flickering torches and a bit of lichen. There was probably hallucinogens in the smoke filled chamber; in the torches or the incense maybe, or perhaps they simply drugged her with marijuana or peyote. Whatever, it had been convincing. The woman had donned a golden facemask that seemed to glow with an unearthly light, and had forced one upon Gloria's face as well. There had been a bit of disorientation, her senses had reeled and she had seen things that seemed like memories but must have been hallucinations. It had not lasted long however, and when it was finally over and the woman removed her mask Gloria found herself staring into her own face. A twisted, dark image that mocked her. It had been too much…
Gloria had awakened, rebound to the totem and nearly naked. The golden masks - shaped like cat's faces – hung fromm a spear propped up against the great slab of stone that was the altar. The leader had apparently left with Gloria's face and clothes, and it did not take an Einstein to savvy that she was going to infiltrate the film company – as Gloria!
The question was, why? Gloria had nothing to do but work at her ropes, however, and think, and eventually all the pieces started to fall into place. All the strange things that had happened on the film shoot, the long string of accidents and bad luck! There was the animal attack on the camp. The bout of sickness that had afflicted so many of the crew! The strange incident near the cliff over the water falls where two stray arrows had almost skewered Gloria. And of course the 'accidents' that had almost killed her stunt double, Angela Morgan. It all made sense. These Amazons were behind everything, all of the troubles that had plagued the film since they had settled in the jungle. But again, the question came up – why? Why did the Amazons hate them so? And why go to all the sneaky trouble of making everything appear to be an accident? Why not simply slaughter the cast and crew outright? It almost seemed as though the women would rather drive them away than slay them. Try as she might, Gloria could not find the answer to that one.
So Gloria sat, bound and gagged in her underwear and worked at her bonds. Her captors left her alone for the most part, almost ignoring her. They had fed her once, offering some minty tasting pasty mush that Gloria had eaten with a wrinkled nose. She had had to suck it from the fingertips of one of her smirking captors as they refused to untie her for any reason. It was humiliating, but Gloria knew that she had to eat to keep up her strength. They had given her sips of brackish tasting water as well, and quickly regagged her- roughly she might add – so as not to hear her complaints. They left her to fend for herself in all other things, which Gloria was not happy about, but there was nothing to do. Nature's call eventually beat her willpower, and Gloria soon found her little area of captivity even smaller. It was another humiliation she had to ignore, and endure.
The dull, tedious minutes slowly ticked by, turning to hours. Gloria dozed off and on, as did her captors. She woke once to find one of the remaining pair gone, the other scraping her long knife across a chunk of coarse rock, like a natural whetstone. Of course, Gloria redoubled her efforts to free her bound wrists, sensing that the odds of her escape were almost even, but the other warrior woman returned before Gloria had made any headway on her bonds at all. She was carrying a bunch of bananas and their water skins full to bulging. There was also a long, limp snake draped about her shoulders. Gloria shuddered as the women laughed and settled in, skinning then cooking the snake. When they eventually ate the thing Gloria felt her stomach churning and had to look away.
It was as Gloria was shifting her position after relieving herself that she thought she might have finally found an out. The wood of the totem seemed ancient, almost petrified it felt so dense. The carvings that ran up and down its tall length were chiseled deeply with sharp angles only slightly worn by time. Sharp angles that snagged and chaffed at her skin, and the ropes. Gloria could not seem to work the knots of her bonds loose, though she could not understand why, with all of her experience at escape, but she could saw away at the coarse rope, hoping to eventually cut through. It was her last chance…
Angela Morgan woke in a daze. Her entire body ached; every muscle, every bone. Her hair hurt. She tried to sit up, but her throbbing head started to spin and she felt herself slipping away into unconsciousness once more. She lay back, breathing deeply, waiting for her body to adjust.
It was dark, wherever she was, save for a shaft of golden light beaming down from above. It appeared to be some sort of cave, a vast, empty cavern that stretched high overhead at least thirty feet. The beam of light made it hard to see about her, but if the dust and insects swirling in the sunlight was any indication, the air was not only dark but thick as well. At least it was cool, and despite her aching body, somewhat restful.
As she lay there recovering Angela's thoughts drifted back, trying to recall how she had come to be lying in a prickly matting of dried grass and branches within some cave. She had managed the stunt, or most of it anyway. There had been a moment where she feared she might fall as she was running, looking back at the approaching biplane, trying to judge its speed. She had latched on however, grabbing hold of the undercarriage – the axle between the wheels. Just in the nick of time too, as the aeroplane swooped up into the sky away from the plateau.
It had been thrilling, despite the fact that Angela had been hanging on for dear life with her arm snaked about the axle rod. It was as though she were flying under her own steam as Angela had watched the world spin past far below her. The rolling waves of the green jungle canopy swept past as the plane arched and banked, curving back and around so that the cameras could keep it in focus. For a second Angela had seen nothing but sky, then the pale mountains far in the distance. It was beautiful…exhilarating!
All too soon however Angela saw the rope ladder drop down from the biplane's seat. It flapped and bounced in the wind, and it took several attempts for Angela to hook the thing with her foot and draw it closer. Before long she had wedged her feet on the bottom rung, holding the ladder steady. With a little more effort, and a great amount of courage she managed to stretch out to grab the rope, dangling precariously from one arm. Her weight helped to stabilize the swinging ladder, and Angela finally released her hold on the axle, groping for the ladder with her final hand. She had just grabbed hold, all of her weight on the wooden slat of the bottom rung when she felt a jarring lurch from above. Suddenly the ladder was spinning wildly, out of control. Angela looked up, trying to see what was happening and saw that one of the ropes had snapped through. Angela had gasped, panic gripping her as she stretched, groping madly for the plane's axle once more. There had been a sudden feeling of weightlessness as her fingernails scraped the metal of the axle, then suddenly she was falling.
Angela Morgan had screamed as she tumbled down through the sky. She had no idea how far up she was, or how far she had to fall, but she was sure that she was falling to her death. It was strange, and oddly exciting. One moment her world was blue, the next it was green as Angela tumbled end over end. The wind was wicked and burned at her skin, though she felt cold, oddly. The sun was blazing brightly, exploding in flashes as she spiraled down, blotting her sight with blurry, glowing dots.
She had tried to concentrate, as she saw the ground racing up at her. She had become tangled in the rope ladder, and it took her a moment to extricate herself. Time seemed to have slowed as Angela twisted about, kicking her legs and flailing her arms. She spread her body wide, arms and legs akimbo, her clothes flapping in the wind as she fell, the ropes still looped about her wrists streaming behind. She could not feel that she had reduced her speed at all, but she remembered from school that if she presented herself in the widest position possible, the laws of physics would take over.
She had stared frantically about, realizing suddenly that she had yet to give up. She saw the river far in the distance, snaking away towards the horizon. There was also a lake, but both were far too far away to help her. Her only hope was that she would die a quick death on impact.
Angela watched in mounting terror as the green got closer and closer with every passing moment. Her heart was hammering in her chest, echoing in her ears. She felt suddenly numb all over…
As she stared, squinting into the wind and gritting her teeth she started to see details. The canopy of the green became the tops of the trees littered with leaves and branches that grew bigger and closer every second. She tried to draw breath, but gasped instead as she curled into a ball at the last possible instant. She smashed through the canopy, plowing through the upper branches like a wrecking ball. She heard the cracking of wood, the screams of the startled animals in the treetops as she splayed her body again, quickly, praying that she would not impale herself on a stray branch.
She groped blindly, grasping at anything that hit her hand. Leaves ripped away and the lesser branches that lined the treetops snapped under her sudden weight. Still, her body jerked and bounced. She felt her shoulder pop, and the pain almost knocked her out. Her legs slammed against a stout branch and spun her about. She rammed into another and felt her shoulder pop again, back. She was flailing madly, tumbling battered and bruised—
She hit the ground on her back and felt the air rush from her lungs with a mighty 'whoosh'. Oddly, the expected impact was not as solid and final as Angela had expected. The ground seemed to give way beneath her, and Angela had heard the snapping of wood again, and her fall unexpectedly continued. The dim green was suddenly replaced by darkness as Angela fell, gasping for breath. She had slammed hard then, suddenly. Her body bounced as stars exploded in her vision for a brief moment, right before everything had gone black.
Angela had survived. She had escaped death once again, whether by luck, skill or the grace of god she did not know, but she was alive. Her body ached in places she did not even know she had, muscles she had never used, and bones that she did not know existed. She tried to sit up once again, and made it, though her head still swirled a bit. Her back ached from the effort, and she felt blood at her brow and caking her hair. Carol would be furious, she was sure.
Angela sat there in the dim light for some time. She ran her hands over her body, probing for broken bones and was surprised to find none. There were no pains that seemed outstanding. She was incredibly relieved that she had not broken her back. To her it would have been a fate worse than death to be crippled or paralyzed. She tried to get her legs under her, but ended up slowly rising from her hands and knees. It was easier, and did not make her head swim so much. She knelt, then crouched, then slowly, shakily stood.
Her body felt weak, and her muscles quivered as she stood. She almost fell, and staggered through the darkness as she groped blindly for a wall or rock for support. Her legs and arms worked, albeit sluggishly, and slowly she managed to take a few tentative steps. She ached, her muscles screaming in protest, but she was walking. Her heart was beating. She was alive.
Angela Morgan plopped down with a sigh of relief onto a smooth, round rock that she came upon in the darkness. Overhead she could see the thickening light as night slowly draped itself across the jungle. She tried to survey her surroundings as best she could. She was in a cave that was thankfully cool and damp. How big she could not really judge, but large she thought. Just at the edge of the darkness she could make out a passage that seemed to go back deeper - a cave within the cave. Beyond that, thee cavern seemed round more or less. The opening in the roof seemed almost circular, the edges littered with broken branches and the remnants of ripped and tattered leaves. It seemed strange, and oddly familiar, and all at once Angela realized why.
It was a trap. Like the pitfall that she had fallen into that contained the panther, someone had dug a hole through the ground exposing the cavern below. They had then covered the hole with branches and leaves, hoping that someone might fall in and break their neck. Angela's mind boggled at the odds it must have taken for her to fall from the sky and land on that particular spot. Not that she was complaining, as the camouflage covering the hole had been just enough to slow her descent and to break her fall. She had been knocked out by the impact, true, and her body ached worse than it ever had before, but she had no broken bones and she was not spitting blood. She had survived. She was alive!
She was, however, trapped. The hole in the roof was far out of her reach, and though she could not see the walls, she suspected that she could not climb them to reach it. She could wait, as she was sure that the others were searching for her, but she had no idea how long – if ever – it might take for her to be found. The jungle was huge, most of it unexplored.
There was the tunnel though. When Angela felt her strength return, and her head had stopped spinning she left the security of her rock and staggered towards the hole in the wall. It was dark within, the last fading rays of sunlight doing little to nothing to light her way. She could imagine all the creatures living there as well; rats and snakes and poisonous spiders that loved the darkness, spinning their webs. There was a breeze however, just a thin gust of wind blowing down from the hole in the roof and whistling down into the corridor. There was an opening somewhere then, though maybe miles away. She had a way out then, maybe…
Or she could wait for help that might not come…
Angela stumbled into the darkness, her hand groping along the slick wall for support and guidance. There really was no choice at all…
Gloria's muscles throbbed with the effort, hours spent rubbing her arms up and down trying to saw through the ropes that held her fast. She felt a little give in the rough cords, the slightest bit of slack and that was the only reason she was able to continue. As she rubbed the rope along the edges of the totem her fingers still picked at the knots. She would not be beaten by a bunch of savages, or she was not Gloria Swann!
She did not know if it was night or day, but her captors seemed to be resting. One in fact was stretched out on the rough, gravelly floor of the cavern, lying on a wide animal skin blanket. The other was sitting with her back against a large rock, but Gloria could see that the Amazon was bored. Her head drooped and nodded as she tried to stay awake. Gloria knew that it would not be long before she drifted off to sleep like her fellow.
Finally, Gloria felt the rope binding her wrists start to fray and unravel. Her fingers started picking at the strands, and all at once they seemed to come apart, untwisting with the simplest actions of plucking and pulling. She felt the bonds pull apart with slack, and the ropes loosened, loops rolling from her wrists. Gloria rotated her wrists, gaining inches, and suddenly she was free.
She started to moan as she moved, then quickly stifled the sound, glancing at her captors. Neither stirred, and the one that was supposed to be watching her was asleep, her chin resting on her chest, her head lolling. It was ecstasy to be able to move her arms again, but Gloria knew she had to do so slowly. Her ankles were still bound, and she needed to free her legs before her captors woke up and put the kibosh on her plans. She eased her arms in front of her, watching the women all the while. The one on the ground was snoring, which disguised Gloria's movements, but kept the other warrior on the edge of waking. She drew her legs up against her breasts, reaching forward to let her fingers dance across the bonds wrapped tightly about her crossed ankles.
Even in the dim light, now that she could see the knots it was child's play to free herself. Her eyes picked the knots apart, her hands mimicking the movements in her mind and within seconds she was uncoiling the loops that held her ankles together.
Gloria sat back against the totem, unknotting her gag and stifling the desire to break and run. Her hands and feet were tingling with pain as blood rushed back into them, and Gloria knew that she must wait lest she try to go too soon and fall flat on her face. She massaged her wrists and rubbed her bare legs together trying to bring some life back into her appendages. All the while she watched her dozing captors, but they remained oblivious to what she was doing, dreaming whatever warriors dreamed.
After some time Gloria decided that she was as ready as she would ever be. She was hot and sweaty, tired and aching, hungry and thirsty, and above all scared. Gloria Swann was terrified that she would be discovered and recaptured, bound and gagged and forgotten with the Amazon leader taking her place in the world. She feared she would be killed. She did not want to die.
Gloria rolled over onto her hands and knees, gritting her teeth and trying to ignore the pain as sharp rocks and gravel dug into her bare knees and the palms of her hands. She wanted desperately to crawl towards the side tunnel that the amazons had been using to come and go, but that path would lead her directly past her captors. There were other tunnels however, and she prayed that one of those would lead her to freedom. Swiftly and silently then she crawled on all fours for the closest.
The darkness enveloped her, and what little sight she had left her. She was blind, but crawled on, picking up speed, trying to ignore what might lay ahead. She pictured animals leaping out at her; tigers and snakes, spiders! She hated spiders.
Gloria struggled to her feet and started to run. She trailed her hand along the wall as a guide, racing along as fast as she dared, not wanting to slam into a wall or a stalactite hanging from the ceiling. She feared tripping and falling, breaking a leg or twisting an ankle at least. She was terrified that she might fall off a ledge, or down a hole and become trapped or injured, dying in the darkness with two broken legs. The tunnel turned and she ran on following the curve. There seemed to be a weak glow in the distance, but she never seemed to draw any closer.
She could see in places, faded patches of greenish gray rock that felt slimy to touch. Somewhere in the distance she could hear water rushing, the echo of some forgotten, underground river. It was cold. She felt things, slimy and sticky on the walls and Gloria found that she was soon crying in desperation, wanting to escape—
Gloria screamed as the ground crumbled and gave way beneath her feet. Her arms windmilled wildly as she kicked her legs trying to run on thin air. She groped blindly, trying to stay aloft, trying to grab anything that might stay her fall. She did not know how far above the floor she might be, but even a drop of a few feet might prove fatal if she landed unprepared.
She slammed into another ledge, hitting her in the belly. Her arms shot forward, her fingers digging into the hard, rocky dirt trying to find purchase. Her nails scraped along the ground as gravity pulled at her legs, trying to drag her down. The ledge scraped at her stomach, her bosom, finally her arms as she slipped deeper, falling.
Finally she came to a stop, her fingers hooked over the edge of the trail above her. Her legs scrabbled along the cliff face as she tried to find a toehold to ease the strain on her fingers, but the walls were smooth and slick and far too sheer. She was out of breath, and fear gripped her heart sending shivers up and down her body. She tried to pull herself up, but she just did not have the strength and all too soon she felt the ground starting to crumble beneath her fingers from her efforts.
Gloria sagged, clutching at the ledge as best she could. Her already abused muscles screamed their protest sending waves of pain through her body. She took deep breaths, trying to regain what little strength that she could muster, trying to ignore the pain and the sweat stinging her eyes.
She could hear the river clearly now, and a cool breeze licked at her feet and legs, blowing up and under her thin slip. She chanced a glance down, immediately regretting the action. There was some natural illumination at work, and far below Gloria could see water sparkling. She had no idea just how high up she was, but she was certain that it was a longer drop than she could survive. She saw no convenient ledge or vine that she might grab. There was nothing.
Gloria tried not to cry as she adjusted her grip. Her hands were sweating, and she felt that her fingers were going to snap off from the strain of supporting her weight. Again she tried to find a grip with her toes, hoping to relieve the strain and pull herself up. She actually gained a few inches before slipping down again, the ground of the ledge above too hard to get a grip, or dig her fingers in.
Gloria screamed as something pressed down on the fingers of one hand. The pain was intense, as though her fingers were being crushed by a massive weight. She lost her grip in the pain, feeling the ledge crumble in her grip with the added weight. Oddly, it felt as though someone had stepped on her hand, as the pressure was soft, like the sole of a boot. Gloria screamed again, realizing that she was going to fall to her death. Her captors had found her again, and this was her punishment for trying to escape. They were killing her.
The sudden weight lifted, too little too late. Gloria hung precariously by one hand for a heartbeat, her fingers slipping even as the rocky ledge crumbled and broke away in her grip. She looked up to see a shadowy form staring back at her, then Gloria Swann started to fall…
Gloria Swann is doomed—or is she? Join us next time at Restrained Tastes for the next exciting chapter…
© Curt F 2002