The wild laughter lasts long enough that when it passes by, both Deirdre and Derek are having trouble breathing. Deirdre’s transition from laughter to sobbing is smooth enough that Derek almost misses it. He composes himself as quickly as he can and then offers his physical support where emotional support is not desired.

Deirdre rubs her midsection. The bones of her stays likely provide some small amount of support for what is likely a broken or bruised rib. Derek is unfamiliar with the garment, but understands that it is supportive of good posture. He has never seen a woman who slouches like some men do, anyway.

He offers a shoulder to lean on, and to his mildest surprise, she accepts. Bootsie splashes around the two of them with evident excitement. The best dog has completed her job and would like very much for her human to play with her.

Derek sees absolutely no reason to not reward the friendly puppy for her excellent help. He gives her one of his very few remaining dog treats. The smoked sow’s ear vanishes quickly and the short little hound snarfs it down enthusiastically.

The river here has a wide shallow stretch on the bank nearest the fairies, and a deep channel on the opposite side that is broken in twain by an enormous old boulder with a flat top. The titanic rock looks for all the world like a giant had squashed it in place and left the indentation of one gargantuan fingerprint as evidence. The channel is not wide on either side, but is clearly deep.

Deirdre suggests they could cross here if they could make the jump onto and then off of that large stone. It is wide enough that both would have room to get a running start.

Derek expresses concern that the swift current in the deep channel on either side would prove dangerous.

Deirdre expresses the counterargument that the channel is wider both up and down the river within their line of sight. This may be the best opportunity to get out of the water in such a way that they do not have to continue on the bank where the fairies are still buzzing about in anger.

One fairy draws a phallic symbol in the air with their hazy trail of light. The fairies, for certain, would take any opportunity to continue to bring the pain to both poor simple humans. Being roughly defenseless against magic makes Derek reconsider their options fairly swiftly.

After discussing the options, Deirdre stands carefully on her own and nods decisively. Derek watches the master burglar as she takes a running start through the shallow water. Deirdre lands lightly on the wide stone and continues running. The momentum pushes her forward and the slight lip to the stone gives her a bit of height for the leap she takes on the other side.

The distance between the stone and the riverbank is larger on the far side, but she clears it easily. Deirdre lands with a plop and a few extra steps to bleed off the momentum instead of trying to come to an instant full stop. She turns around and gives Derek a very sarcastic bow.

The bow causes a wince which turns into giving up and sitting down to lean against a tree and just focus on breathing for a minute.

Derek thinks that she only made it look easy because she’s a being of unnatural grace and speed. He is not that.

Neither is Bootsie.

For the first stretch of the distance that they must cross, Derek walks to the edge of the drop-off where the channel becomes far more dangerous while holding the wriggling hound under one arm. He looks down into that churning abyss and instantly wishes he hadn’t.

Something large and very much alive is moving around down there. It has disturbed the mud on the river’s bottom, and clouds of it make the exact speed and force of the current very much more visible than it would normally be.

Derek gulps in response.

He takes a deep centering breath and then gently tosses the dog in an underhanded throw. Bootsie gives a panicked yip of surprise when she lands on the rock and then sniffs in all directions. She bays as though she has gained a desired scent, but does not dare try to enter the water. Bootsie is a poor swimmer.

Derek backs up carefully and then launches into a dead run. He is not the fastest nor the most athletic, but he has definitely had significant practice at traversing difficult terrain as of late.

It comes as no surprise that on the large, flat stone, his wet feet slip out from under him upon landing, and he sits heavily upon his butt. The hard landing rattles his teeth and he stays on his tail end, petulantly pretending that it did not hurt at all.

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Deirdre hides her face in her hands so that he cannot see that she is laughing. But even over the noise of the rushing water and the dog’s loud baying, he can hear the giggle.

He grumps. Bootsie continues barking and pawing at something on the edge of the stone.

Derek slowly rolls to his knees and crawls over to look.

There is blood, clear as day, though not terribly fresh. Bootsie snuffs at it and paws at the stain. Derek has never seen her react like this with any other blood stain, and they have certainly been around several in their line of work. It is strange.

But the entire forest is strange.

“Hey, can you catch her?” he calls out to Deirdre.

She quits giggling and gives him two thumbs up in response. She moves to the edge of the river bank and stands ready.

Derek picks up the wiggly little dog. He stands as close to the lip of the giant’s thumb print as he can and swings his hound between his legs a few times to build up to a good toss.

It’s a longer distance, so he has to be more sure of the throw. On release, Bootsie looks back at him as she arcs through the air with enormous, sorrowful eyes. Her leash trails along the rippling surface of the water.

Something under the water causes it to roil against the swiftly moving current.

Deirdre catches Bootsie easily, the weight of the dense little dog thumping into her injured chest. She takes her turn to plop onto her rear end with a loud thump.

Bootsie responds to her gasp of pain by bathing the woman’s face with her tongue. The dog’s hot slobber is a much less terrible liquid to be drenched with, so Deirdre accepts this form of torture with grace. And additional painful laughter. She and the dog roll in the dirt playfully.

As soon as Bootsie regains her footing on solid ground, though, the dog stiffens and her entire demeanor changes. Her tail stiffly flies directly between her legs and she cowers close to Deirdre. She sneezes and sniffs and whimpers in fear.

Derek sees this from his vantage point in the channel’s midpoint. Something is terribly wrong. First the blood, and the dog’s unusual reaction to it, and now something she smells has her reacting in terror? There is clearly something wrong here.

It doesn’t make a difference for what he must do next, though. Derek backs up as far as he can on the wide, flat rock. And then he takes off at a run again. He leaps off the edge.

He has scant portions of a second with no safe ground beneath his feet when he notices the fish.

An enormous catfish launches upward at him. Its open mouth is large enough that he is at a genuine risk of being swallowed whole. Derek does not desire to be swallowed whole.

Thankfully, the catfish do not have the best aim. He kicks out at it almost by reflex and catches it directly in its ugly scarred lip. The tiny amount of boost helps push him forward just a tiny amount more. The fish continues upward, but he successfully avoids its gaping mouth.

Derek does not gracefully land on his feet on the opposite bank. Rather, he lands with such poor footing that he continues sideways and lands hard on his side, rolling across the scuffed dirt in a tangle of ungainly limbs.

Behind him, the massive fish turns to the side and its terrible fins splash icy cold water in all directions. Derek watches the magnificent beast of the river with admiration and terror. Mostly terror.

He scoots backwards away from the river in a panicked crab-walk as fast as four limbs oriented counter to their intended locomotive method can take him.

Deirdre is already up on her feet and behind a tree, to be as far from the river beast as she can be without losing the line of sight on Bootsie. Derek hugs his dog to his chest fiercely. He buries his face in her short coat and tries not to think too hard about the close call to being devoured.

Bootsie is still cowering in terror and is trying very hard to squish herself against him hard enough to merge the two bodies into one. He does not begrudge the little creature her terror.

“Hey, Derek?” Deirdre calls from where she has the tree between herself and the far more dangerous than expected water.

“Yes?” Derek looks at her nervously.

Deirdre is not looking at the water anymore.

She pulls a tuft of long, black hair from the rough bark of the large pine.

A single one of these hairs is longer than her arm. She holds the clump up to show Derek and Bootsie squirms her way directly into his raincoat in response.

They attempt to head back upstream to return to town, but the hound refuses to budge in the direction they found those hairs.

“What now?” Deirdre asks nervously.

“We’ll have to find somewhere to cross further downstream,” Derek answers. “We can’t go that way, and we can’t risk running into the fairies again. But the path should be safe enough.”

Deirdre agrees.

The pair walk. Once they make their way through a narrow strand of willows, Bootsie calms down significantly, but the river does not provide anywhere to cross easily. They end up following it, skipping several bends, all the way to the waterfall which both know marks the end of the line for relatively safe travels in this part of the woods.

There is a shallow ledge behind the fall. Deirdre only knows about it because she has hidden there many times before. It isn’t entirely dry, but it provides a relatively safe way to cross to the other side of the river again.

It seems safe, right until a body falls through the water right in front of them.