If only it weren’t so pleasant with the early summer sun warming her oval face and long, chestnut hair. She gives in to temptation and, clasping her...hands under her head, lays back musing on that last book she analysed. With one mighty heave he snapped his bonds and bounded to gather her in his strong arms. ‘At last,’ he murmured as he untied the ropes that held her. Sickening, sentimental, slush, she decides. But it’s her own fault, choosing modern female pop stories as the subject for her. She would not repeat their first crossing, they had to find another way. With his companion’s parameters in mind, the Tracker kept a watchful eye for places which might prove promising. Unfortunately, Sala was not enthusiastic about any of the options he had presented so far. He indulged her, understanding her anxiety, he also felt a little guilty because his strategizing had served as the catalyst for her new fear. Still, it grew increasingly imperative they cross soon. They could not afford. More

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