To say I was unenthusiastic about leaving a warm bed to walk through the jungle was an understatement. If I'd had my way I'd have curled up and gone back to sleep. Beren, however, was too much of a pain in the ass, and by that I mean woodsman, to allow such sensible actions. He pointed out that the monsoon would be on us within a few weeks, and possibly a few days, and that any ground we could make while the sun was out, would be worth its weight in gold. I reluctantly agreed, more for a lack of interest in arguing than because I truly conceded the point, and we set out laden down with what provisions we could carry. Characteristically, there were no horses. The dense jungle isn't a place horses or any hoofed animal tolerates well, the rot tending to cripple them even if there are roads for riding on. The path was no road as civilized people understood it, merely a way worn through the jungle by the passage of countless feet over the ages. In places the verdant growth crowded in and markers were set up, often nothing more sophisticated than a partially hacked tree or arrangement of rocks. Fortunately jungle soil dosen't run to the kind of mud one finds on dirt roads after rain. Rainforest actually has very little in the way of subsoil, most of its nutrients coming from a build up of leaf mould and decaying organic matter. What soil there was was thickly braided with roots which formed little puddles as they gathered in water. Several streams were running, although I assumed they were dry except during monsoon or after heavy rain, and the forest was alive with the calls of birds and other animals as we started the long trek down towards Darkwater Crossing. We met no other travelers, presumably they had the sense the Gods give to everyone except Beren, and they stayed dry. The mosquitos were ferocious, but I had long ago learned a charm to keep them at bay. I rather enjoyed what I imagined their little faces looked like when they ran into my invisible barrier.

We walked till well after sundown. There was a fine moon which provided enough light to see by and we eventually pitched camp in a rocky outcrop a hundred yards or so off the trail. Beren built a small fire, apparently viewing the wildlife as more of a danger than other travelers who might catch a glimpse of the reflected glow or smell smoke on the air and we settled down to a meal of fresh bread and cheese. I drank a little wine, and was asleep before I knew it. I had strange dreams of the city of gold and its serpentine Goddess. She appeared to me as a woman clad in emerald mail, which on closer inspection was scales. She seemed to be trying to tell me something but her hissing speech remained unintelligible. I woke with a start, feeling as though something were slithering over my wrist. I reached down to touch the bracelet I had recovered from the ruin and felt it writhe beneath my touch. WIth a squeal I leaped into the air and shook my wrist furiously, trying to dislodge whatever it was. To my astonishment I saw a small green snake wrapped around my wrist clinging on for dear life and hissing in what I somehow knew to be terror.

"What the..." Beren demanded, swinging around from where he had been keeping watch. He lunged towards the snake whose little eyes bugged out for a moment before he raced up my arm and under my blouse. I cursed and grabbed at the fabric, pulling it open. Beren's eyes were wide as he saw my skin. Where moments ago had been my bare midrif, now stood an intricate tattoo of a small and obviously terrified snake.

"Ummmm..." I temporized, to utterly astonished to be afraid. I brushed my hand over that tattoo and found it smooth. As I pulled my hand away the head of it moved, and then emerged from my skin as though from a pool of water. Beren grabbed for it and it flattened into ink before his fingers could touch it.

"Back off," I suggested. He did so and I coaxed the snake out by rubbing it with my finger. It slowly emerged from my skin and coiled around my arm. A moment later it was the bracelet again, as though the whole experience had been some kind of shared delusion. 

"That," I observed, "is very weird."