Nall read the spoor as he knelt on one knee on the game trail. He steadied himself with his spear and considered the bushes that infringed on the narrow path then nodded, pleased with himself. He was making some progress in tracking skills. In a short while he’d have his quarry, then he could return to the Zanga village with his contribution for the coming feast that marked the beginning of the new cycle, Oíche Shamhna.

Two figures stood by stealthily, concealed in the dense undergrowth watching the Zanga hunter, hands on the swords at their sides. The Magyars were similarly dressed in loose tunics and pants, belted by a sash at the waist, one nodded towards the Zanga hunter as if in inquiry to his companion, the other tipped his head in acknowledgement and contemplated the figure before them.

Nall stood up, eager to continue his tracking.

***

Ned sighed his relief as they left the clearing dominated by the altar dedicated to Atunga. Veronica smiled at his obvious discomfort. Ned shook his head.

“That thing always gives me the creeps no matter how often we pass it.”

“I don’t think Assai’s ever forgiven Professor Summerlee for mentioning Jehovah in its presence.” Veronica recalled Assai’s outrage when she told her friend about the incident days later. “She was positive that Atunga would do something terrible in revenge.”

“Tough guy, huh? Why’d they put him here?”

“Wouldn’t you want someone nasty to discourage your enemies from approaching your home?”

Ned just smiled, acknowledging the truth of that statement, and the pair concentrated on the entangling vegetation that covered the path. This section was deliberately left overgrown to disguise the route to the Zanga village. It was a practical idea, but it did make the footing treacherous. They’d have an easier time of it as they drew further from the village. They were a good mile away from the clearing that was just about a halfway point between the treehouse and the Zanga village.

***

The two Magyars alertly prowled along the well-traveled path listening and watching for signs, determined not to be surprised. They paused as they reached a clearing. A rustle from the opposite side had them melting back into the bushes and screening themselves from view.

The blond head of the reporter emerged into the clearing. The Magyars stood straighter as they assessed his appearance. They gripped their swords. A glance at each other had them nodding and they took a step forward.

Ned turned his head back the way he came. “Shall we take a break here? These packs are getting heavier with each step.” He shrugged the pack off his back and lowered it gently to the ground.

“Sounds good to me.” Veronica’s voice could be heard from a slight distance away. She had been falling farther behind on the trail, her steps slowing as she dealt with the cumbersome pack.

At the sound of her voice, the Magyars froze. The first shook his head and the pair slid the swords back into the scabbards and slipped deeper into the jungle.

Veronica stepped into the clearing and then froze, sensing rather than seeing the movement. She stared intently at the surrounding brush. Ned realizing she’d noticed something waited patiently one hand on his weapon ready to respond. Inwardly he reproached himself for missing whatever signs had alerted his companion. After a moment Veronica relaxed.

“What was it?” Ned inquired quietly, still not ready to ease his vigilant stance.

Veronica shook her head. “Maybe nothing. At least it’s not here now.” She flexed her shoulders anxious to put the over-laden pack down. Ned gripped her rucksack, so she could ease her arms out of the straps and then he set it next to his pack.

“All that talk by the Zanga warriors about a mysterious group searching for some bogy man just has you spooked.” Ned turned away to unhook his canteen and didn’t see Veronica’s frown at his words. She didn’t like the idea that she was so easily rattled or that Ned would so readily dismiss her forebodings.

“Between the Zanga’s warnings and the weight of these packs, I’ll be glad to get back to the treehouse.” Veronica tried for a neutral tone.

“We could be well out of it. Marguerite and Challenger aren’t the easiest convalescents I’ve ever seen.” Ned offered the canteen first to Veronica.

Veronica took a deep swallow before answering, “Why do you think I volunteered us for the supply run?” She smiled as she handed the water back to Ned.

Ned chuckled as he recapped the canteen; a sudden rustle in the bushes had the blonde couple looking around. The absence of the sounds of birds and monkeys intruded on their notice. Ned readied his rifle. “Raptors?”

Veronica nodded.

The green and brown mottled reptile broke through on the left. Ned fired as it made the edge of the clearing.

“Watch it, Ned!” Veronica pointed to the right.

Another raptor leapt the low vegetation asVeronica called the warning to the reporter. He raised his rifle and expertly took down the second raptor in as many minutes.

Two more reptiles sprang into the clearing.

Ned fumbled with the rifle. Both barrels were now empty.

Veronica threw her knife at the nearest one.

Ned backed up, groping for his pistol.

He slipped on the wet grass.

The remaining raptor closed in.

Ned was prone on the ground. Veronica circled around rapidly to retrieve her knife, knowing it was a futile attempt. She’d never be in time to save Malone.

The raptor, towering over the young reporter and poised to strike, suddenly toppled to the ground. The long shafted spear waved in the sunlight as the dying raptor’s movements slowed and stopped.

Veronica exhaled in surprise and relief. “How….?” She looked around.

Ned steadied his breathing and pushed himself up from the ground.

From the bushes, a tall, broad shouldered man pushed through. “Are you all right, ifjú hölgy?” He was staring at Veronica. “I ran as fast as I could. I heard the raptors and the gunshots.” His concern for her well-being as well as admiration for her loveliness was written in deep blue eyes, set in a tanned, handsome face

“Thank you,” Veronica breathed as she looked at their savior. “I thought for sure that last raptor had us.” She strove to control her racing pulse, a reaction to their peril and narrow escape. Her voice was completely lacking in suspicion as she asked, “Who are you?” Veronica couldn’t help but smile up at him. After all the man had saved them. “And his eyes are the blue of the deepest part of the Inland Sea.” But she kept that thought to herself.

He smiled brilliantly in return, softening his rugged jaw line, clearly taken with the blonde beauty. “I am Count Sándor Bocskai, fair damsel. Completely at your service.” He bowed low, his arm sweeping out with a flourish.

Veronica’s eyes glowed at his storybook manners and looks out of a fairy tale. A dark lock of hair fell across his forehead. Veronica felt an urge to smooth it back, wondering if it felt as soft as it looked.

Sándor turned away from the jungle girl with a flattering reluctance towards Ned, who was beginning to frown in suspicion. The newcomer smiled disarmingly. “And you, are you hurt?” He looked at the dead raptors and inclined his head, eyeing the reporter appraisingly. “You are indeed a fine shot. And most excellent with a knife.”

Ned grinned at the compliment, his worries subsiding a bit, but protested, “I can’t take credit for the knife, that was Veronica’s doing.” He reloaded his rifle efficiently as they spoke.

“Veronica, truly a beautiful name for a beautiful lady. But for so charming a young lady to prove so deadly, you astound me.” Count Bocskai bowed low once more as this time he took Veronica’s hand in his and kissed it, holding it for a long moment. Veronica felt a frisson of excitement at being the object of such gallantry from a man who not only was so handsome and obviously cultured, but also so competent in the jungle.

Sándor’s eyes gleamed as he smiled at Veronica. He bowed again, but it was more just a tip of the head as he turned to Malone. “And you are?”

“Ned Malone, Challenger Expedition.” Sándor betrayed no recognition of the name, although his head cocked in interest. Ned heaved an internal sigh, so much for another fragile hope that someone might be on their trail; that this Count, although an improbable searcher for them, may have heard about them from others who were.

“Are you from a village near here?” Veronica asked although it seemed unlikely, as she took in his old fashioned clothes. She was pretty sure his jacket was called a morning coat; his shirt had a high stock and a pleated front bib. She couldn’t recall any nearby settlement that dressed that way. She flexed her shoulders, discovering she was more worn out from their trip than she had realized.

“Most unfortunately, no. I was out hunting yesterday and encountered a tribal war party that was searching for someone. They were accosting many people, especially lone travelers.” Sándor frowned at the memory. “It seemed as if their attacks were almost at random.” Sándor exhibited noticeable confusion. “As I eluded them I managed to get myself lost. I am most unwilling to retrace my steps for fear I’ll run across them.” He held up his hands in a forlorn gesture and smiled sadly at Veronica.

“We heard about some group new to this territory. The Magyars,” Malone offered. “A Zanga trading party ran across them, talked to them a bit. They were pretty determined to find whoever they were looking for.”

Ned considered the matter for a moment. “Odd, that the trading party didn’t seem worried that the Magyars were very aggressive” He shrugged as he thought back to what the Zanga said. “Maybe there were too many of the Zanga, or they were too well armed, or they could have been just lucky that they weren’t attacked.”

The reporter gestured at one of the trails leading away from the clearing. “We were heading back home, when we ran into the raptors. Sounds like it’s fortunate that the raptors were all we ran into.”

“You’d better come with us.” Veronica smiled at the sudden brightening of Sándor’s face. “You can get your bearings at the treehouse.” In truth she couldn’t wait to get back herself. She was in need of some rest. She and Assai had spent a good part of the night talking. The late night seemed suddenly to be catching up with her.

“You are as gracious as you are lovely. I would be delighted to accompany you to this …treehouse of yours.” Sándor retrieved his spear, and as Veronica went for her knife, said, “Allow me.” He crossed the clearing to retrieve the jungle girl’s knife from the dinosaur’s head.

The bushes rustled. A thud echoed in the clearing. The ground vibrated. A raptor roared its displeasure.

Ned deliberately took aim. Now he had a chance to demonstrate his skill.

The dinosaur fell, before the reporter could fire.

A knife stuck out from its neck.

Ned lowered his rifle slowly.

Veronica smiled her approval at the throw their new-found companion had made from where he still knelt yards away beside the dinosaur Veronica had killed before.

Crossing the clearing to the fresh kill, once again he retrieved the knife. This time he presented it to the jungle girl with a flourish.

Veronica beamed. “Thank you, Count.” Her admiration for his abilities was clear to read.

“You are quite welcome, Miss…?” The Count stopped with a note of inquiry in his voice.

“Layton,” Ned supplied. He wasn’t sure what prompted him to try and encourage some formality with this newcomer.

“No, please, call me Veronica,” the jungle girl jumped in, overriding the reporter’s attempt at distancing them from the man who saved them again.

“If you insist.” The Count smiled his pleasure at the request. “I would be so honored if you would call me Sándor.” He took the jungle girl’s hand once more and pressed a kiss on it. Veronica’s cheeks reddened slightly.

Sándor, aware that Malone was staring at him, turned and said, “You as well, Ned Malone, must call me Sándor.”

The reporter nodded in response. As the Count looked back to Veronica, Ned frowned, but was unwilling to say anything about his spoiled shot. It would have sounded mean spirited. But it was galling, every time he had a chance to show Veronica how competent he had become in the jungle, what a man of action he now was, something interfered. He sighed internally. In all honesty he had to admire the crisp move that this Count had made. It was as fine a throw as Veronica might make.

Ned and Veronica stooped to pick up their packs.

“Please, you must allow me.” The Count was at Veronica’s side taking the pack from her. She smiled gratefully at his consideration.

“Thank you. My treehouse is just a couple of hours away.”

“If it is half as remarkable as its owner, I know I’ll find it fascinating.” The Count’s eyes never left Veronica’s face.

Ned frowned watching the pair head out. As Veronica led the way with Sándor following close behind, no one noticed the Zanga warrior lying in the bushes, eyes unseeing.