"Neil! My God, man, are you alright?"

"Doreen ..."

"We have to get him to a doctor, Zachariah. Look at those burns. It's not something my Girl Sprout training can handle."

"I have to help Doreen," Neil rasped. His face was burned badly, parts of his hair melted to his scalp, and blood was seeping where skin had been pulled off by the friction of the air in the blast. The front of his body was also burned, to a lesser extent. In any other conditions, Neil would be screaming in pain. Now, his only thought was for Doreen's welfare.

"You'll have to try, Ellie. Do what you can. I'm going to look for Doreen, okay, Neil?" Zachariah said.

"Help her, she must be scared."

"I'm not sure ... Neil, sit still. Please, lie back. Hurry, Zachariah! No, Neil, you're staying here." Ellie's face twisted in frustration as she looked at Neil's face. If he was at a hospital this instant, and had reconstructive surgery, there would still be scars. Without a hospital ... infection might set in and scar him irreparably ... or worse. Ellie shook off the bad feeling and tore off the bottom of her t-shirt. "Okay, Neil, I'm going to try to cool off those burns and stop the bleeding. It's probably going to sting a little--"

"Aaaauuughh!" Neil cried as the water-soaked cloth hit his skin. Then he passed out.

"At least now he'll be quiet ... God help me, how can I save him? He needs surgery." Ellie thought about the utility knife in her pocket. "I can't do a skin graft. Not in these conditions. I'm talking to myself."

"Ellie, Doreen's nowhere to be seen." Ellie jumped at Zachariah's voice. "Sorry if I startled you. How's your patient?"

"A little more patient," she said grimly, "since he passed out. The most I can do is wrap his face in whatever cotton I can find. I can't do anything about his body burns, because his clothing is stuck to the skin. We should keep him wet, I think. That's the most I can remember about burn treatment. We have to get him to a hospital. It's the only thing that will help."

"Then let's march." Zachariah and Ellie quickly constructed a pallet out of plane debris and tree parts, and carefully moved Neil onto it. Then they left the clearing, and nothing was left of Flight 713 from Layla:), except the charred remains of a tiny plane.

Doreen woke up again. This time, she was alone. The room was cool, sparsely but expensively decorated in dark woods and pastel cotton. She was in a four-poster bed with a gauzy canopy, partially propped up by piles of soft pillows. Directly ahead, a basket of fresh, exotic fruit sat on an ebony wood dresser with a large mirror above it. The mirror itself was draped in the same gauze as the canopy, so that the most Doreen could see of herself was a vague outline. On the bedside table at right (a glass-topped wrought-iron stand), a glass vase filled with orchids perfumed the room.

To her left, a partially-opened set of French doors allowed a breeze to stir the curtains. The filtered light reached every corner of the room, implying midday. On the right wall, an alcove echoing sounds of running water indicated passage to a bathroom, and another alcove led to a closet. To the right of the dresser a heavy door blocked any sounds from the rest of the household. Doreen eased herself out of the bed, feet landing on a cool tile floor. She stretched, and every muscle in her body ached.

She walked quietly to the bathroom, where a bath had just finished running. The steaming, lavender-scented water invited her in. She quickly made use of the other facility in the bathroom, then shed the unfamiliar chemise and short set she was wearing and stepped into the bath. The water enveloped her, soothed her muscles, and relaxed her to the point that she could attempt to remember what had happened to her.

Doreen could remember perfectly clearly everything up until the turbulence on the plane. She could remember putting on her seatbelt. She remembered the plane dipping toward earth. Then ... nothing. She vaguely recalled Neil's face, horrified, right before an explosion tore the plane apart. And again, nothing, until ... Frogman. GeRitt. She knew he had been with her, had heard his voice and felt his face on her hand. She was in his home now, she knew. She had found him.

Doreen relaxed further, allowing herself to sink into the bath up to her chin. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. She had found her prince ...

Ellie pushed another branch aside, allowing Zachariah to drag Neil along the path. "You're sure this is a path?" she asked. She'd had bad experiences with male leadership in adverse situations, and even though she really really liked Zachariah, it was hard to trust him.

"It's a path. Trust me," he grunted, pulling Neil's inert body behind him.

Ellie sighed. It could be worse, she told herself. I could be with Mac or Frogman instead of Zachariah. Or Marlboro ... I noticed he was acting ... chauvinistic, before we boarded the plane. Bossing Tianne around.

"Penny for your thoughts, Ellie."

"Oh, nothing much, dear. Just wondering what happened to the other passengers."

"Odd that we didn't see anyone else."

Odd that only Neil returned to the plane to see if anyone was there, Ellie thought. It was a dark thought, implicating all sorts of things about the others, but she held her tongue. Suspicion was not exactly what they needed right now. Better to be optimistic. Maybe I should check on Neil's face.

"Night's falling fast, Ellie. Maybe we should stop in that clearing."

"I want to make sure Neil is alright, too."

Zachariah pulled Neil the last ten feet, then leaned against a tree, breathing heavily. "Should we build a fire?"

"We don't have anything to build a fire with, darling. No matches. Unless you've got a lighter in your pocket ..."

"No. I guess that settles that."

"I hear a stream, that way." Ellie pointed south before bending over Neil and removing his bandages.

"Odd, isn't it? A clearing, near a stream. Do you think there might be a settlement near here? Natives?" Zachariah looked nervously around him.

"Now that you mention it, this does look like a man-made clearing. Those tree stumps behind you were made by an ax or saw, not nature." She pulled off the last bandage, and shuddered. "Zachariah, could you get me water, please? Wash these bandages, leave them as sopping wet as possible, and fill my water bottle. I wish we did have a fire, for sterilization. Neil needs surgery."

"You're going to perform surgery in the jungle?" His eyes bulged in horror.

"The water, please. If I don't get skin on this muscle, and soon, Neil won't have a chance. Goodness only knows what kind of infection he could get out here. He's already disfigured. Disease could kill him."

Zachariah took the bandages and bottle and set off for the stream, silent and afraid.

Ellie swallowed hard and concentrated her thoughts. Marianna ... Dream ... Dava ... someone, please hear me...

Doreen awoke again. Third time's a charm, she thought.

"Darling, you're awake," Frogman smiled as he came into the room. He was wearing khakis and a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned to the navel. His flippered feet were bare, and they made a soft, almost swishy sound on the tile as he walked. "I was hoping we'd be able to talk soon."

"How many days has it been?" Doreen asked, struggling to sit up.

He slipped an arm under her back and propped her up while he piled more pillows behind her. "One hundred and forty-six. Too many, if you ask me."

"I meant since the plane crash."

"Oh." He blinked, and his pupils narrowed and widened rapidly. "Three days. I'm sure you're quite hungry."

"We didn't get dinner on the plane. It went down before then." Doreen's voice was flat. She spoke slowly, almost as if she were trying to find her way through a fog with her words.

A short, plump Mexican woman waddled into the room just then, carrying a silver tray laden with steaming food. Doreen's stomach growled, but her facial expression didn't change as she saw the food. "Si, senorita, we have much food for you! You must eat it all. We have warm fruit compote, poached eggs on toast, oatmeal with brown sugar. Fresh orange juice, coffee, milk. Come, eat, senorita!" The old lady set the tray on the bed over Doreen's legs, effectively trapping her.

"That will be fine, Senorita Carrera. I will be sure Senora Cortez eats all of her breakfast." Frogman gazed levelly at his housekeeper as she scurried out of the room.

"Si, Senor Cortez."

"Senorita Flagg," Doreen murmured absently as she pushed her eggs around on the plate.

Frogman didn't hear her, or pretended not to, and took the fork away. "Now, you are going to eat all of this. You don't want to be a bad example for the children, do you?" He picked up a forkful of eggs and held it before Doreen's mouth. Obediently, she opened and ate.

"I can feed myself." She took the fork back, and started shoveling food in as if it had suddenly occurred to her that eating was necessary for survival.

"That's a good girl. As soon as you've eaten, you can get dressed and come out to see the children."

She smiled up at him, weakly. "All my clothes were on the plane."

"I've bought you new clothes. Nicer. What I've bought should fit you, and if it doesn't, I'll call the seamstress." Frogman turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Doreen continued eating, until all of the plates were empty. She drained the last of her juice, and moved the tray to the side. She certainly felt a little better now that she'd eaten. Then she stood, and walked over to the dresser. In the top drawer, soft, pastel, silk lingerie was folded neatly and waited for her. It was now that she realized she was completely naked.

Of course, she thought. I fell asleep in the tub. She chose a baby blue panty and bra set, then began looking through the other drawers. The center drawer was filled with silk stockings. Apparently, this was not going to be a place she could wear t-shirts and jeans. The bottom drawer held white gloves of various lengths, ribbons of all sorts, and other soft accessories.

Determined to find actual clothing, Doreen moved toward the closet. There was no door, just the alcove entrance, and when she stepped in, racks of wispy dresses met her. Overwhelmed by the selection, Doreen took the first dress that matched the underwear she'd chosen. The skirt was just above knee length, and the top had a v-neck. It had spaghetti straps and no waist to speak of, and was composed of three layers of blue gauze cotton.

Quickly, Doreen dressed, then looked on the floor. Shelves of shoes lined the floor, shoes of all styles and colors. She ran her eyes along the shelves, eventually realizing that the shoes were arranged according to sort (stiletto, heeled, flat, slipper, and sandal), then by color. She chose blue ballet slippers, pulled them on, then walked back into the bedroom.

On top of the dresser, beside the fruit basket, a jewelry box sat waiting. It was silver, with intricate Celtic patterns carved into the top and sides. Doreen opened it carefully, and it began playing a beautiful song she had never before heard. She looked through the collection of jewelry, mostly silver, until she found a braided chain.

"The finest silver from the north of Spain." Doreen jumped. "I'm sorry if I startled you, my dear. Would you like me to help you?" Frogman extended a hand to take the chain, then stood behind her at the mirror as he fastened the clasp.

"What is that song? It's beautiful."

"'Brandy.' If I remember correctly, it was written in the 1960s. The recording is more upbeat, but musical jewelry boxes can only go so fast." He set his hands on her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "Let me brush your hair, then we will see the children."

"The children..."

"They've missed you terribly, darling." He took a silver brush from the dresser, and guided Doreen to a chair she hadn't noticed before. "I think you should put one of the butterfly barrettes in your hair today," he said as he brushed through the tangles. He parted her hair on the left, and slid a clip into her hair on the right.

It was silver, delicate wires twisted into a butterfly shape. Two pale blue points, one on each wing, sparkled when Doreen looked at her reflection in the mirror. She put her hand up to the clip.

"Sapphires. I do love the color blue. There is so little of it on Amphibia. Only the Royal Family has blue eyes."

"May I see the children now?" Doreen asked.

"Of course, darling. Right this way." He waved an arm toward the door, and guided her to the right as they exited.