 At the end of the trail, the trees abruptly ended and gave way to an empty clearing that was devoid of anything living. Instead, the terrain was a long stretch of rock that rose from sea level in an almost smooth fashion, occasionally punctuated by rivulets, which broke the rock into several sections. When they climbed this rock, they could see the surrounding area as well as a little past the treetops to see a little of the lake. But they were not high enough to also see the mainland and Ira’s mansion. The Baron made his way up the rocky incline as the others stood nearer to the base looking up at the rock, wondering how it got there in the first place. Perhaps the island used to be a center of volcanic activity and the odd organization of the rock was actually the result of ancient lava flow. Reine said as much to the others. Hadrian voiced concern that perhaps they were sleeping on top of a dormant volcano that would blow at any moment. Marcus contradicted him by saying that if it was an active volcano they would have known about it by now. Xanthia serenely looked on as if all of this was obvious and that it was pointless to even talk about it. Besides the rivulets that cut the rock into sections, the rock was littered haphazardly with burnt out pockmarks where previous campers had chosen to build their campfires. The Baron chose the one nearest to the top of the rock shelf. From the top, one could also see the other side of the island, which was a continuation of the evergreen trees. A small shack was located at the bottom of the rock shelf in that direction, partially hidden by some trees. The Baron pointed out that it was a bathroom in the style of the old-fashioned outhouse. “I thought you said that there would be amenities for camping,” said Xanthia. The Baron pretended to no understand her. “What do you mean? There’s the outhouse.” “No. I mean a showering facility, picnic tables, actual places marked out for building fires.” He shook his head. “If you want to take a bath, go hike back down to the lake. And we’re going to build a fire, right in this hollow as soon as we can gather enough firewood. So everyone should hurry up with that task. Keep in sight of this stone hill. We wouldn’t want anyone to get lost in the woods at this time of day, would we?” “But I thought this island was pretty small,” said Hadrian. “You’re bound to hit the shore sooner or later and from there, find the pier.” “The island is a lot bigger than you think,” the Baron replied. “Especially since there are so many trees and after a while everything starts to look the same.” As Xanthia muttered under her breath, destroyed from her previous serene composer, and trampled toward the outhouse to get her turban fixed, the others headed off in different directions in an attempt to find the firewood that the Baron requested. Reine headed off a little ways, still in sight of the elevated stone campground and the lonely outhouse. As she gathered a few fallen branches, Tuesday tagged along to sniff at a few twigs before picking up a few in his mouth like a dog who wanted to play fetch. Reine laughed. “I didn’t expect you to be so helpful. I bet you’re just doing it for the food. We’re having hotdogs tonight.” After she filled her arms with as many branches and medium sized logs that she could carry, she and Tuesday hiked back to the campsite to drop off their load. As the Baron was about to start the fire, Xanthia came back from the outhouse smelling, literally, of roses. “What did you do in there?” said Hadrian jokingly. “Start a perfumery?” The astrologer glared at him as if he were an errant schoolboy. “What a woman does during her daily toilette is none of your business.” “Give her some slack, Hadrian,” Reine said, momentarily sympathizing with the astrologer as she tried to wipe away the dirt on a rock she wanted to sit on. “Xanthia’s never been camping before.” “You haven’t either,” said Marcus, “And you haven’t complained.” “But I know something of what to expect. I went to summer camp once when I was a kid. Although it isn’t on par with this, I did know that there wouldn’t be any conveniences.” The spark that the Baron started finally caught on to the various pile of twigs and branches that everyone had accumulated. Against the darkening navy sky and the shadowy woods, the fire leapt up, bright orange flame dancers that licked hungrily at its fuel. Tuesday trotted over to Hadrian who was taking out a package of hot dogs from his backpack. The cat stared hungrily as he stuck the hot dogs on skewers and handed them to everyone. “You’ll get your chance,” said Hadrian to the cat, “once these are done. Raw hot dogs will probably give you a belly ache.” He aimed a grin towards Reine. “And I don’t want an angry owner at my back for her puking cat.” “Then you shouldn’t have given me such a dangerous weapon,” said Reine, briefly waving her skewer. Tuesday seemed to understand. The cat stopped staring at Hadrian and stared at the roasting hot dogs instead, his swishing tail the only indication that he was impatient for the food to be finished cooking. © 2002, S. Y. Affolee |