Water fell over the rocks and the ground firmed. Stepping out of the tree line the men and women of Earth stepped out into a field, thinly dotted wide-trunked trees, their canopies blooming in outward flower petals. The lowering alien sun was again beginning to bathe the sky in fiery hues of reds and orange as it started to dip low. The golden shine of yellow just raising to meet the setting sun, and the long shadows stretching across the braze, fresh savannah.

From behind them, the marshy water of the bog they had wadded out flowed together. A shimmering strip of fresh water ran a heavy coarse through the alien yellow and green grass as it carved a coarse, presumably to the sea. It snaked through the high grass, flowing over rocks and between the raised heads of alien beasts.

In the sky, the lumbering hovering carapaces of jelly-fish things faltered and lowered, dipping down into the grass and trailing their wrapped roots through the grass. Alien beasts broke into a run to evade the collapsing creatures as they trailed dangerously low into the turf.

A number of birds squawked and cawed with their strange notes as they excitedly took to the branches of their bastions in the heavy trees. Their roosts marching across the landscape in staggered clumps, and the whipping and turning flocks clouding the sky with black.

In the distance, the faint gray silhouettes of distant hills and rocks glowed red in the south.

“I haven't seen anything like this...” Carl gasped amazed as he walked up alongside Len. Dark tracks had formed under his eyes, and his breath rasped heavy from his lips. He was pale, like everyone else. They needed to set down.

“I don't think anyone has.” Len said in a growling voice.

Behind them the remnants of the group Len led were making their first tentative steps into the foreign grass. Prodding into it with sticks, or the large thorns. Acting as if they suspected it to collectively spring to life and devour them. “And we've made good progress.” he said in a low voice.

“We're tired.” Carl added.

“Aren't we all.” the old ranger said, “We'll set down here for camp over the night. We got the streams nearby, so we got water.”

“Water, from the streams?” Carl said aghast, “Are you sure? You've seen what it was like in those marshes. Muddied, wet. Who knows how much was rotting in that muck!”

“There's no water cleaner than what's pulled from a stream than a stagnant pool.” Len said with a sagely groan.

“Do we even know what's in the water?” Carl argued.

“No, but it's worth the risk in any case.” Len sneered, “Would you rather die of thirst when water is right there?”

“I suppose not.”

“Then I wouldn't complain about the fortune we have.” replied Len, “Having been out in the field, if only in Central America, you do learn to take advantage of what you can. What few fruits you can find, or animals you can kill.

“It keeps you alive one more day longer, then might as well. I thought someone from Detroit would get it.”

Carl looked at Len shocked, confused. “I guess you're right.” he said, easing a little. Though he still carried himself uncomfortably as he stared down at the nearby trickling creek, “I suppose what doesn't kill us makes us stronger.”

“And if it does then we're not fit for this world anyways.” Len added.

He looked up at the cautious, nervous followers. They still plodded the inches towards them as the left the trees. Maybe after several hours of walking they'd come to feel as comfortable in the grass as they did the swampy brushy and the mud.

Uncertain, fearful eyes glanced down on Len before darting away out of fear. This was the man who had attacked soldiers, officers, on the ship. It didn't take much to upset him. And they feared they could set him off. They whispered as they came down, looking outwards at the distant beasts that gave them curious looks. They knew as little as they on how they should treat these visitors.

“Don't get too uncomfortable.” Len said in a low voice, straightening himself to speak to the group, “I can tell you're all tired.” he started in a loud voice, “So we're going to stop here for the night. We'll keep going south in the morning folks.”

“Here!?” a woman's voice said, “But what if something should find us? Or... Those land on us!” she yelled as she pointed at one of the large floating masses drifted low over the grass.

“Then we move.” Len said, “They're not going too fast and I doubt they know where they're going if they think anything at all.”

“Well how do you know?” the same woman asked.

“Because they don't look it.” growled Len, ripe bitterness on his teeth, “Have you seen tumble weed miss?”

“Tumble-what?”

“I thought so.” Len spat, “Listen, they're just moving along on the wind. If we're in their way we can see them a mile off and we can step aside.

“Then we can worry if they can kill us on choice.” he added in a quiet voice.

“I'm not sure,” the woman continued, “Can we just go back in in there?” she asked, turning back to the swamp, “At least we had something over our heads!”

“Back in there, have you fucking seen the size of some of those bugs!?” shouted a young man, “I ain't fucking going back in, bitch. There's no point. At least there's nothing flying around out here that could eat my face off.”

“Listen, why can't we climb a tree?” someone asked.

Len looked at the nearest tree. “I doubt anyone has any climbing claws if we could!” Len shouted, holding his hand out to the nearest tree, some fifty yards out. Its sides as flat and broad as anything else. Branches and any other features they could make a hold out of were far too high up, reaching into its crown than the base at the roots, “I seriously doubt we could, but we'll sleep under it if it suits you.”

“I'm hungry.” a complaining voice spoke up.

“As am I.” Len said back, “But let's sit down before we figure this out. If anyone's thirsty you can drink from the stream. So let's move on the last stretch of the day.”