Dawn came far too quickly.

Marguerite had managed to get a little sleep during the night but she lay mostly awake in the darkness. The sleeplessness was not such a bad thing for it allowed her to concentrate on how, with the help of her friends, she might stop a criminal act. It wasn’t just for herself, she thought dismally, but for all the others who would follow. If the events which were lined up for Marguerite were enough to make a powerful Amazon like Lavinia burst into tears how would someone like Phoebe, who was outwardly strong but inwardly fragile, or even the younger evermore trusting Amazons fare?

Also, Marguerite had to confess, the insomnia gave her a pleasant opportunity to look over at John Roxton as he slumbered. The moonlight through their barred window allowed for a generous view of his attractive face and well sculpted bare shoulders. ‘To lay down every night,’ she pondered, ‘and merely gaze at him ...’

If she had only known him in England, when she was yet a very young girl, perhaps her life would not have been as complicated as it eventually became. They might have come to one another, without reservation, and openly revealed their hopes and dreams for the future. Perhaps he would have steered her in a right, more noble, direction and she, in some implausible way, could have stopped the death of William, thus preventing John from living a life of self blame and misery. She and Roxton could have lived well together, loved one another, gone on adventures, but stayed away from this bloody, god forsaken plateau.

With an inward sigh, Marguerite tried to push away what she considered silly school-girl thoughts. ‘It’s a fantasy. You are becoming such a soft touch.’ she contemplated, adjusting her head on the bed’s prickly pillow. Was it really so long ago when Marguerite Krux blatantly announced that she did not really care about injustice (if it did not pertain to her), that she was a woman on her own, looking out for number one, thinking others were idiotically naïve for such lofty standards as honesty and trust?

“Marguerite dear, you are not as bad as you pretend to be.” Professor Summerlee had told her once. How she missed him with his old-world naiveté, charm and talent for telling people what they most needed to hear. Arthur was the first to know the truth about her but not the last. It just took the others a little longer to see there was a legitimate good-girl inside of their resident linguist, a champion just aching for an opportunity to prove herself. Perhaps even to prove herself to herself.

Yet, who was the man she credited for teaching her the most? Marguerite could put the sole honor of her attitude adjustment to Roxton. He had made her feel genuine love for the first time in her life. She didn’t really know what love was until she met him but - truly - it was all her friends on the plateau who deserved credit. Marguerite watched them work as a team, a united people who, in the end, made her change for the better. Yes, she still felt her friends were unsophisticated about many things but Marguerite could no longer deny their devotion. And she could not behave as if she did not care for them as they cared for her.

They were family and, when it came down to it, she did not want to leave any of them too soon.

“Good morning.”

Focusing, Marguerite looked at him, as he gazed at her thoughtful expression, and smiled gently. “How do you feel?” Marguerite asked, feeling his fingers as they stroked her knuckles. She was pleased to see that his eyes were clear. His skin color seemed much better as well.

“A little sore.” Roxton confessed, speaking low, comfortable where he lay. “But I think a dressing change will help if we have enough cloth.”

She nodded, “I saved some.” Sorrowfully, breaking physical contact, Marguerite released Roxton’s hand and told him to roll over. She pushed her own cot back against the wall where it had originated.

When she finished applying the last bandage he stood and stretched slightly. Wrapped but shirtless, Roxton carefully slid into his jacket, with Marguerite’s help, then both man and woman put on their hats.

For an all too brief moment in time they merely stood and stared at one another, not speaking or touching, just looking at one another as if burning the image of the other into their minds one last time.

Not long after, a humorless Belen and Xonya came to take them to the Ceremony of Deliverance.

***

They were brought the short distance to the inside main gates of the village where Selena sat on a red cushioned chair, on a platform, above the others. She was surround by spear holding Amazon warriors and the woman, wearing traditional golden armor, appeared her usual confident self.

Challenger stood beside her but off the platform, lower to the ground. His expression was passive.

Many women - teachers, young warriors, and laborers - were there as well. They watched as Marguerite and Roxton approached. There was silence, no cheers or any indication of satisfaction. If anything, the women appeared apologetic but resigned to the matter at hand.

“Are you all right, John?” Challenger asked.

“Better.” Roxton replied, “You?”

“Fine.”

Hippolita, face grim, approached Marguerite with her whip and a satchel. “You are allowed one weapon of which you’ve shown excellence and food. Enough for two days.” she said. She placed the whip in Marguerite’s hands and tossed the sack at her feet. “Good luck, sister.”

As the warrior stepped back Marguerite, clipping the whip to her belt, said, “Thank you, Hippolita. I know that comes sincerely and from deep with in your heart.” Inwardly she grinned, bleak and sarcastic, satisfied by Hippolita’s taken aback expression.

The tall gates slowly began to open.

“Rejoice, Marguerite.” Selena stood and raised her hands, “You have been chosen. Knowing your aptitude you will be back with us in no time, alive and well. Perhaps you will even better understand what it is to be an Amazon.”

“And how will that happen, Selena?” Marguerite asked, “When I’m roasting on a spit over a low fire to the delight of the cannibals or after I’ve been used, abused and shamed by the men in the village?”

Confused by new information, Roxton and Challenger looked at Marguerite.

“How did you find out?” Selena asked. She glanced briefly in Labrada’s direction then back to Marguerite.

“I know you were being very careful, you and all your ladies, but I had a talk with Lavinia last night.”

“After the feast.” Selena figured Marguerite had somehow gotten to the agitated woman. Lavinia was supposed to be closely watch, even when in the best of health, but lately the queen’s soldiers were not paying as close attention to such matters as they should.

On that same note, Selena was still curious as to why Challenger and Roxton gained such easy access to the village yesterday when the gates should have been shut tight against them.

“Kindly enlighten us.” Challenger requested, irritated.

Ignoring the professor for the moment Selena leaned forward and address Marguerite directly, “And do you understand how important it is to our well being, all the lives of your sisters, that you comply?”

“Don’t do that.” Marguerite was firm, her turbulent eyes never wavering from Selena’s as she took a few steps closer to her. “I am not really one of you. I never was. I’m an accident, a convenient foundling who appeared just when you needed me most. Why cast one of your own into the fire when an outsider, one who has lost her memory, could burn just as easily. And what if she gets caught by the cannibals? At least your true tribe remains alive and well.” At the woman’s confirming silence Marguerite continued, “You never told me the whole story because you knew I would never agree. You betrayed me, Selena, and I would still be in the dark if I hadn’t taken it upon myself to find the truth.”

A few of the warriors, sensing a possible threat to their queen, lowered their spears in Marguerite’s direction.

Seeing the motion, Roxton carefully took her by the upper arm and pull Marguerite back to him, “What don’t we know?” he asked her. It was almost as if the Oroborous had come back to haunt him. There was a secret about, more information to be revealed obviously involving the woman he loved, and Roxton wanted to know what was going on.

“Oh John,” Apologetic, Marguerite leaned into him slightly, placing a tender hand to his bare chest. Looking up into his eyes she shook her head back and forth. “They’re serving me up as a sacrifice and if I don’t obey you and Challenger will never leave this village alive.”

“What?!” Challenger’s eyes narrowed as he stared at a now uncomfortable and slightly more contrite Selena.

Hippolita, standing firm and quiet beside her queen, taking in the situation, nevertheless eyed the familiarity between Roxton and Marguerite with disappointment. She had suspected there was something brewing between these two during their first visit but thought she might be imaging the connection when she saw how bitterly they argued. But now, it was obvious the couple had finally admitted some deep feelings and were as close as ever. No wonder, Hippolita lamented, Roxton had so easily refused her advances last evening.

“Allow me to elaborate, gentlemen.” Circe, with her group of older Amazons, unexpectedly pushed to the front of the crowd. They pressed past soldiers, expressions harsh, and would not have been tossed aside if Selena had ordered it. “A bargain was struck between our queen, the man-village and the cannibals. You already know about the hunt, how a man and a woman from opposing villages are to undergo a chase by the cannibals every year. The loser is caught by the cannibals and consumed. However, the winner …”

“Circe, enough.” Hippolita called her warning.

“Let her continue.” Labrada spoke, unexpectedly staring daggers at her queen and those faithful warriors who stood by her side. “I think Marguerite and the men should hear everything.”

“Yes, I agree.” Phoebe, who was one of those firm-standing warriors, called after her. She stepped out of line as if suddenly embarrassed by the company she was keeping. Her appearance, as she looked to Marguerite for absolution, was filled with sorrow.

The other Amazons, although still loyal and standing their ground, shifted uneasily in their boots.

Circe continued. “The winner will not immediately return to their own village. They go to the opposite village for six months to work off a debt of sorts. The people of either village would be allowed to do anything they wished to their slave. Anything accept killing him or her, of course.”

Jaynelle, standing next to Circe, continued: “And what do you think the men of the man-village do to women who have to submit to whatever whims their masters envision?”

“Every day and night for six months … beatings, humiliation, hard labor …” Willow spoke, her voice ragged at what she knew to be true. “And let’s not omit what we are all thinking: Rape. Every night a different man taking the same unfortunate but submissive Amazon … the winner of this insanity.”

Lia said, “All for the sake of revenge.”

“Revenge?” Roxton exclaimed. He could feel the heart thumping in his chest. It took all the self control he had to stay still, not lashing out at the utter lunacy of what he was hearing.

“Of course.” Circe intoned, “Because the men know that if an Amazon survives the hunt, and comes to them, that means their comrade, the one they had sent out, was now in the belly of a Wanatu cannibal. Who better to pay the price than the female brought to them as compensation? It is not a kind captivity.”

“And the men?” Roxton asked, although he wasn’t certain he wanted to know.

“The same.” Circe said, “But somehow it’s not quite as horrifying. Yes, there is the hard labor and humiliation but …”

“A man cannot become pregnant … and being forced to submit to so many beautiful women …?” Lavia intoned, unsmiling. “There is a difference.”

Challenger looked up at Selena, appalled. “This is what you finally arranged when it came time to reach a compromise?”

Selena, quiet until now, spoke with pragmatic force, “We were desperate. So were the men. Neither of us have the numbers to fight our enemy, either apart or together. We need more time, more people, and the resources ... There are still celebrations where the men and women come together but, except for this six month ritual for the benefit of the cannibals, we are no longer warring against each other or forced to …”

“We are like frightened children.” Willow spat with venom.

“Realistic!” Selena looked down at the older women, “We cannot function otherwise.”

“We did before.” Circe spoke firmly and reasonably, “There was a time, long inour past, when none of this was necessary. We were protectors of something grand and illustrious. But somewhere along the way we lost that ideal. We are Amazons. We exult women and protect the righteous. We should not be sacrificing our own,” she glanced at Marguerite, “or the innocent under the guise of protecting what we are -- especially when we are not certain what that is anymore.”

“Don’t be pious with me, old woman.” Selena spoke calmly but with a growl, “Your time was at an end years ago. Yes, you were the queen, Circe, but now it is my reign. And despite what you think, I am doing what is right and my people know it. If not, I would have been replaced long ago.”

Marguerite looked at Circe with wide eyes: “Queen?” she asked but did not expect an answer.

“Your intelligence keeps you in power, Selena. You are young, strong, speak well and keep your strongest Amazons happy. But how long before our actions reveal us as the barbarians we always claimed we fought against?” Circe’s eyes narrowed and her white hair moved to and fro from a breeze that was whipping up in the village. “No, I’m not just talking about the man-village but the cannibals themselves! If you would have listened to my advice three years ago …”

“Mother, stop it!” Selena stomped a foot and shouted.

A moment of silence followed the outburst.

“This just keeps getting better.” Roxton muttered. He, Marguerite and Challenger began to understand something new they had never even considered. Amazons had family issues just like everyone else in the world.

Finally, knowing it was time to act, Challenger joined Roxton and Marguerite where they stood and, in a momentous tone, made his own pronouncement. “Selena, if Marguerite goes out that gate, Roxton and I will be going as well. We will not allow her to face this alone.”

At a small hand wave from Selena the warriors by her side lifted their spears, aiming them at the trio. “It would be interesting to see you try.”

“And what will you do? Kill them?” Circe asked, “It’s already very obvious they are willing to sacrifice themselves for one another.” She looked at Marguerite and Roxton standing close and emphasize, “These two are in love. Did you really think he’d let her go? Do you think she would leave him behind to die?”

“We wouldn’t have killed them.” Hippolita said but even as she said it she understood how foolish the declaration sounded. Of course they would. How could they not? Had she survived the cannibals, Roxton and Challenger would never allow Marguerite to be taken by the man-village. The Amazons would either have to execute them or live in fear that they would go to the village and retrieve Marguerite by force. What would happen then? The men of the village would come back, raid the Amazons as they had so often before, and they would all be back to square one.

Weakening, Selena stared at Marguerite. She had it all planned. What went wrong? “You are an Amazon.” she told her, “Your loyalty rests with us, not these men. You are betraying us, Marguerite.” At her silence she finally said, “We love you and will take good care of you after ….”

“As you did with Lavinia.” Marguerite replied, and closed her eyes with the memory of the woman’s inner turmoil. “She will never get over what she was forced to do, how she was treated and abandoned by her own people.”

“She volunteered.” Phoebe said but, in the end, knew it did not matter. Disapproving eyes were on her but she had to continue, “I have a child.” she said, “And I don’t want my little one growing up, having to face this horror.” When she saw Selena staring at her, Phoebe bowed her head slightly, “I’m sorry but it is true. It is how I feel.”

Marguerite met Phoebe’s eyes and smiled. She never knew Phoebe was a mother but it did explain a few things. A small part of her wondered who the child’s father was but another told her it was none of her business -- and she was probably better off not knowing.

“Selena, these strangers suggested change the last time they were here but we did not take full advantage of the opportunity.” Circe walked to stand directly in front of Selena and lifted her hands to emphasize her words, “None of us here like what has happened. We all want positive change and I think, despite your theatrics, you want it too.”

Selena looked outward at her warriors, laborers and the children, off in the distance, as they innocently played -- not knowing what was happening here and now. “What can we do?” Selena asked and this time the question was genuine, not sarcastic or to indulge. She truly wanted to know.

“We will work on it together.” Circe approached the platform and took her daughter’s hand in her own, “Give these people back their weapons and let them go home.”

“But the men …”

“We will send an armed emissary with a message from you, announcing we are not happy with our current arrangement. If they are equally as displeased further negotiation needs to be undertaken.”

“And what if they disagree?”

“I don’t think they will.” Challenger said, “Go to them and talk. Open yourselves to the possibility that both your villages can live together in harmony -- and put all your force into fighting your common enemy.” He then added, recalling a little Wanatu boy running from a T-Rex. “And perhaps in time your common enemy will no longer be a threat at all.”

Selena looked from Challenger to Circe once again. “Yes,” she said, “We will try again.” She now took both her mother’s hands into her own, “Together we will rebuild, adjust and open ourselves to the world outside this village.” She repeated, “Together.”

***

They prepared to walk from the Amazon village with heads held high and their weapons ready for potential trouble.

There was a fear that the cannibals, hunting men and women (who would never be found), on the war-path, might come after the explorers as compensation but Challenger and Roxton had their doubts. They had saved the chief’s grandson and that, they were sure, would grant them the privilege of leaving this part of the jungle unharmed by the fierce cannibal tribe.

Before joining Roxton and Challenger, Marguerite said good-bye to both Labrada and Phoebe. Both were sorry to see her go but understood where her home and heart belonged. “Watch over Lavinia.” She told them, “She will be so pleased to know about the changes. It will help her, I think, to get better.”

“We will.” Labrada promised, kissing Marguerite gently on the cheek.

Hands were raised as the trio left them, wishing one and all well.

Hippolita and Roxton made eye contact and nodded at one another but no words were exchanged. There was no reason for them.

***

It was twilight and a chill had come over the plateau.

“She’s being very quiet.” Roxton warmed his hands over the fire he and Challenger were sharing.

Marguerite wasn’t far off, near a bubbling stream, filling their canteens. She was looking up at the graying night sky and about the jungle.

They were halfway to the treehouse and would be home the following day, late in the afternoon. There had been very little incident so far. They managed to get passed the cannibals and dodge a couple of pesky raptors. In the jungle that was considered a very successful journey.

Roxton found their return tamely exhilarating but, when he turned to Marguerite, he immediately saw she was with them in body but her mind seemed to be somewhere else. When they made camp for the night Roxton had Challenger check her head, where she had been wounded, and do a minor optical test. Marguerite said she was fine and the professor had no reason to disbelieve her.

“Marguerite has been through a lot, Roxton. She’s probably just churning it over in her head now that it‘s over. Give her time.”

Roxton pulled his attention briefly away from Marguerite and placed it on Challenger, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Depends.” Challenger said, having half an idea what Roxton wanted to know.

“You and Selena last night. Anything we should or should not know?”

Challenger smiled at his curiosity, “We had tea and talked. She eventually kicked me out, sending me to guest quarters, but I think I was close to changing her mind about Marguerite before we gathered this morning. I suppose it took the words of her mother, not me, to tip the scale.”

Satisfied, Roxton nodded. “Good to know.” he said.

“What John?” Challenger had humor in his tone, “Were you afraid I might have indulged in a lurid assignation?”

“Just worried you might have done something you would eventually regret.”

“Have more faith in me, old boy.”

Roxton chuckled, “I will.” Again, he looked over to Marguerite as she stood, now a near enticing silouette, and stretched near the stream. The canteens were at her feet, currently abandoned as she concentrated on deep thoughts.

“And Marguerite too, Roxton. Have faith in her.”

“I will.” he said again and watched as she crouched and picked up the canteens.

Slowly, taking her time, Marguerite returned to the camp.