Isabeau minced her way toward the little group, a small bag hanging limply from a finger.  She was dressed for a picnic, flowered sun dress, wide-brimmed white straw hat and big round sunglasses.  “And I had to leave my blow drier!”

               She stopped in front of Nat and scowled at him as if it was all his fault. 

               “Where is my bag?” she demanded.  “And where is my room?”

               Even Wren was hard pressed to keep from laughing.  Nat looked at her for a moment then casually pointed at the tent still only half erected.  Isabeau stared at it, incredulous.

               “I am NOT a cavewoman!” she declared.

               Matt took the hint and shifted into a pretty fair imitation of the caveman on the insurance commercials eliciting a giggle from Marina.

               “I came on this thing because I was getting bored at school!” she huffed.  “I certainly didn’t expect to be playing Daniel Spoon!”

               “Boone,” Nat corrected.

               Isabeau flipped a hand at him.  “Whatever.”  Pulling her sunglasses down her nose she peered over them at the surrounding woods.  “And I suppose there are all kinds of wild animal things here as well?”

               “Oh . . .” Nat drawled.  “Raven said they got three foot big spiders.”

               “And cave bears,” Marina added.

               “Don’t forget the trolls,” Wren chimed in.

               Matt scratched his caveman belly and pulled something out of the hair and ate it.

               “Ewww!” Isabeau, Marina and Wren all said at the same time.

               “Just . . .” the caveman started.  “Kidding,”  Matt finished.

               Isabeau stared at her companions at if they’d each grown an extra head.

               “They don’t have them here though . . . right?” She said.

               “Nah,” Nat said.  “Those are just for the elves.”

               “That’s good to know,” Marina said.  “I’m glad we aren’t sleeping with the elves.”

               “Nope, instead we have . . . “ Nat made a gesture at the lop-sided tent.  “If it doesn’t fall over.”

               Isabeau removed her glasses and concentrated on the tent.  After a moment, it began to fill out and stand upright.  When she winced visibly, it collapsed.  She staggered over to a grass-covered rise and sat with one hand to her head.  Matt was instantly at her side.

               “What’s wrong?” he asked, kneeling beside her.

               The girl rubbed her temples as if to crush whatever seemed to be burning her brain.

               “It happens if I use my powers,” she explained to Matt.

               “What are you powers?” Zach asked Marina.

               “Um . . . powers?” She looked confused.  “Well . . . I can't do that.”  She pointed at the tent.

               “That's pretty cool, Isabeau,” Nat said with a grin.

               “Don't get excited,” she said.  “I can't control that stuff yet . . . sometimes it hurts when I try it - sometimes nothing at all happens."

               Nat’s grin faded to real concern.  He squatted beside her.

               “You okay?”

               Marina hovered over Matt’s shoulder.  “She's okay, right?”

               Isabeau shook her head and winced at the movement.  “No, but I will be tomorrow morning . . .”

               “Perhaps you should lie down,” Wren suggested.

               Matt and Zach moved as one and had a folded cot set beside Isabeau in under a minute.   Nat began to unfold the thing as Matt and Zach helped Isabeau to her feet.  Everyone turned at the sound of splintering wood and ripping canvas.  Red faced, Nat bundled the thing back up.

               “That’s MY power,” Nat said sheepishly.  “I make kindling.”

               “That just became your cot,” Wren said dryly.

               Isabeau managed a wry grin, "It doesn't matter.  I think I'll just sit here for a bit."

               “Any way I can help?” Marina asked.

               Isabeau looked at the ruined cot, "Hopefully we can make it through this,  I need a hot shower, and a Tylenol, and a long soak in a bath, and an Aleve, and a good warm cup of coffee and a Nuprin . . ."

               “Umm . . . not sure we have all that,” Nat said.  “But the lake looks inviting.”

               Marina giggled, her glow pulsing with her laughter,

               “Prolly snow fed,” Nat considered the crystal purity of the lake.  “Nice and crispy cool.”

               Isabeau gave Nat a look.  “'You are joking, yes?  It will be cold, and there are maybe things living in there, and besides, I only have one swimsuit - they were so strict on what I could bring . . ."

               Marina looked at Isabeau with a grin, "Hey, at least you HAVE a swimsuit!"

               “Wow . . . I brought like everything I had . . . except my board,” Nat mused.

               Wren smiled.  “But Nathaniel, you are a man of simple needs,” she said.

               “Oh,” said Marina.  “What about stuff for me?  Archer is going to bring me something, isn’t he?”

               Nat’s looked devilish.  “Mark told me, clothing was optional here, like all elf worlds.”  Nat raised an expectant eyebrow at the three girls.  “Anyone wanna go swimming.”

               Isabeau’s mouth dropped open.  “Optional?”

               “Look,” Nat pointed toward the lake.

               “Hm . . . well, I don’t have a swimsuit yet . . . huh?” Marina said and followed Nat’s pointing finger.

               Four elves, three girls and one guy, all nude, ran toward the lake hardly pausing before diving into the water.  Isabeau’s eyes grew wide and she quickly averted her gaze, reddening. Matt and Zach gaped at the tall slender girls.  Wren just managed to refrain from punching Nat in the ribs.

               “You ALL go swimming naked?”  Marina’s tone was half horrified and half titillated.

               “Only if I lose my shorts,” Nat said.  “But nah . . . I was just teasing . . . I guess Mark wasn't kidding though.

               Marina sighed in relief and Wren gave Nat a suspicious look.

               “Mark?” Marina asked.  “Elf?”

               Yeah . . . Jessy's brother,” Nat said.  “Archer and Raven's son.”

               “Oh, cool,” Marina said.

               “I brought you a few things, Marina,” Ghost Archer had moved so silently that no one had heard his approach.  He carried a duffle over each shoulder and dropped them at his feet.

               Eyeing the tent, Archer ducked inside and added the support poles.  When he stepped out, the tent was taunt and erect, a large main room with two smaller ‘bedrooms’ to either side.  Matt took the opportunity to unfold a cot successfully and with Zach’s help, placed it in one of the side chambers.

               Isabeau climbed painfully to her feet and struggled to pick up her duffle.  Nat one fingered it from her and placed it inside by Marina’s own and Wren’s dance bag.  In moments the girls where settled into the tent, cots, pillows, sheets and blankets.  Without a word, Isabeau sank down on one of the cots with a small sigh.

               “Are you okay, Isabeau?” Archer asked.

               “She used her powers and it gave her a headache,” Nat explained.

               Marina whispered to Archer.  “Are there really trolls and stuff here?"

               Archer smiled “Yes” and ducked into the tent to kneel beside the prostrate Isabeau.

               Marina’s eyes grew huge.

               “Told you, real TROLLS!” Nat said.

               Marina gulped and Nat gently patted her on the shoulder.

               “I’ll protect you, Marina,” he said.  “Or Wren will, or Matt or Zach.

               “Bad headache?” Archer asked Isabeau.

               The girl nodded, instantly regretting it.  “Yes, I keep overdoing it.  This time, too many things at once. The poles, the ropes, the canvas itself.”

               “Close your eyes,” Archer commanded.  “I can’t give you control of your power, that will come naturally, but at least I can relieve your headache.”

               Marina slipped into the tent and pulled her duffle open.  She was the only one that didn’t see Archer’s hand begin to glow green,

               “Take it easy the rest of the day,” he said.  “And we'll be having lunch in a bit, camp style.”  He lowered his voice conspiratorially.  “And RAV didn't do the cooking"

               When he exited the tent he stopped and put a hand on Nat’s shoulder.

               “Nat, we've got a portable shower and some screens for the privies, if you'll come back to the supplies I'll pick them out for you.”

               “Okay, I'll be back in a sec,” he turned back to Marina.  "Wren can protect you from the trolls and spiders while I am gone."

               Isabeau stepped out of the tent obviously headache free.

               “What a wonderful place, eh?  Bugs, snakes, cold water and no room service. How did people ever survive this way?"  She said.

               Marina watched Nat follow Archer.

               Wren nodded at Isabeau.  "Or mousse.  You forgot to mention the lack of mousse."  She fingered her curls.  “The hair scarf is still fashionable I hope."

               Marina smirked at her newfound friends as she pushed her hair behind her ears and returned to rummaging through her bag.

               “Utter lack of civilized amenities. I expect it will come back into vogue soon enough . . ." Isabeau said with a sigh.

               The three girls didn’t notice Matt and Zach’s surreptitious departure in the direction of the lake.

               Nat came back to the camp with a large crate resting on one shoulder.

               “Got you a shower, Isabeau,” he said, setting the box down and lifting off the top.  Inside was more canvas and wooden poles.

               Isabeau peered in and snatched up a folder piece of paper.

               “Instructions!” she cried triumphantly.

               “What needs to be done?" Wren asked, brushing needles from her jeans.

               “You can help with this and make sure I don't break all the poles,” Nat suggested.

               Isabeau paused to contemplate the lake then said, “I’ll help too!”

               Marina extracted the poles while Nat lifted out the canvas.

               “It's going to be what exactly?” Wren said, brow arched.

               “I think it's supposed to become a shower,” Marina offered.

               “It says we drive the poles into the ground in two rows of three, about four feet apart with the seventh in the middle,” Isabeau read from the instructions.  “Then we tie this canvas on it.”

               “Wonderful,” Wren said dryly.

               “That's about as basic of a shower as it can get huh . . .” Marina said.

               Nat held up a plastic bucket filled with holes.

               “And this is the shower head!” he said.

               “You suspend it from a branch above,” Isabeau said.

               “Better than nothing,” Marina said with a shrug.

               “Is this where I do the canvas floating thing again?” Wren asked.

               Marina eyed the bucket.  “I take it back . . .”

               “The alternative is to . . . how to say it . . . jump into the lake?  Come out frozen, provided the trolls don't live there,” Isabeau said.

               Marina gazed over at the lake half expecting a troll.

               “Okay, I take back my take back,” she said.

               “Cool!”  Nat said.  “LAKE trolls!”

               Nat receive a trio of glares.

               “Is it cold suddenly?” he shivered.

               “Take afternoon baths, it'll be a little warmer,” Wren suggested.

               “Maybe float someone up the tree to loop the bucket rope?” Nat suggested.

               “I’ll go up there,’ Marina volunteered.

               “Lovely then,” Wren said.  “Ready?”

               “Sure!” Marina replied.

               Nat, with the seven poles gathered in one hand found his spot and drove the pole into the ground to a painted ring on each.  Wren lifted a hand and with a gesture, slowly lifted Marina into the air, the rope floating up with her.  When she reached the branch, Marina grabbed the limb tightly and flipped the rope over then lowered the end until Isabeau caught it.  Marina’s face was white and she had caught her lower lip between her teeth.  She did not look comfortable up there but she said nothing.

               “No fair . . ." Isabeau muttered at the ease with which Wren lifted Marina.

               “Practice,” Wren said, not taking her attention from the floating girl.

               Nat paced off the rectangle and drove the poles into place.

               “Okay,” Marina’s voice quavered.  “Let me down . . . and slowly, please.”

               Wren gradually increased the gravitic pull on Marina and set her down as lightly as a feather.

               “As I said,” Wren reiterated to Isabeau.  “Practice.”

               Isabeau’s face clouded.  “I can't practice again for at least several hours - every time I try using my powers they backfire.  I can still feel it isn't fair."

               With a flip of Nat’s wrists, the long single piece of canvas floated up and out flat on the ground.  Nat pointed to the ties at one edge of the canvas.  “Everybody take one.”

               His three companions spread out along the canvas and as one they lifted it to the poles.  Nat was the first pole and edge of what would be the entrance.  Wren, next in line, was the first corner followed by Marina at the center of that wall and Isabeau was the next corner.  Together they tied the straps in to the notches near the tops of each pole. 

               Nat moved to the next position and bent the canvas around the next corner, close beside him, Wren did the same with the fourth corner.  Marina caught up the tail end of the material and tied it to the last pole.  All four stood back with hands on hips.

               “Not very tall,” Nat muttered.  The canvas wall barely covered him to the chest.

               “Where’s the door?” Isabeau scowled.

               Marina looked up at the holey bucket.

               “Whose gonna put the water in there while we are taking a shower?” She asked.

               Wren looked up at Nat.

               “I assume this is where you volunteer your services?” she said blandly.

               “If he is filling the bucket,” Isabeau said.  “He can see right into the shower!”

               “I have . . .” Nat paused dramatically.  “. . . A PLAN!”

               “I am shocked you guys get the shower stall,” a male voice with a light accent caught them all by surprise.  “Man, you are living high over here.”

               “I was okay with the lake,” Nat muttered.

               Mark Fireoak was leaning against a tree and had been unnoticed for some few minutes.  He smiled at Marina.

               “Hey, Mark,” Nat said.

               “So, who are the newcomers,” the other said, pushing off the tree and sauntering closer.  He gazed down at Marina and Isabeau looking very much like his father.

               “This is Marina,” Nat said.  “And Isabeau.  I guess she came to the Valley after your last visit.  Girls, this is Mark Fireoak, Jessy’s brother.”

               Nat noticed Wren do a fade into the background where she selected what she considered a good spot for a ‘fire pit’.

               “Nice to meet you ladies,” Mark bowed elegantly, his hand sweeping out in a courtly gesture.

               “Heyas . . . I'm Marina."

               “Have you met Wren,” Nat asked.

               Mark nodded to her, “Nice to meet you too."

               Wren gave a little wave of the hand.  “Pleasure is mine.”

               “You need round stones, like over in the stream for the fire pit,” Mark said.  “And you should tie up the part of the tent.”

               As he moved around the little camp Marina trailed him, helping him whenever she could.

               “Are there really trolls and cave bears and stuff here?" she asked when he paused to set the second tent’s pole.

               He smiled at Marina and whispered, “They are not nearby but I can protect you or show you one.”

               “Wren held the whole thing up when we set up the first tent,” Nat said.

               Marina nodded and smiled.  “Protection would be preferred.”

               “I will be happy to have my sword serve you, my Lady,” Mark said to Marina, kissing her hand.

               “Again with the swords,” Nat muttered as he stepped into the tent to position the side poles.

               “You have to learn how to do it alone too,” Mark said of the tent.

               “Actually, I don’t NEED a tent,” Nat said as he stepped out.

               “Well, SOME of us do,” Marina said, her tone a little testy.

               Wren stood at the streams edge, barefoot, lifting stones with her powers.  Once they reached the correct height, she would push them toward the fire pit and return the gravity as they reached the proper position.  They hit with a loud clack.

               “Now the one that’s your height,” Mark told Nat.

               “Gee . . . master of the obvious,” Nat muttered as he lifted the center of the tent with the pole.

               “Do you really have a sword?” Marina said, eyes dancing with excitement.  “Like . . . you use it?”

               “Yes, I have used it many times in my travels,” Mark said.  In the tent Nat rolled his eyes.

               “Cool, I'd like to see it someday,” Marina said.

               “It’s in Jessy’s camp with my gear,” Mark said.  “It is one of the things father has us all learn.”

               “Father?”

               Nat noticed Isabeau slinking away from the group, muttering.  “Everyone else gets to use their powers but when I try it on the tent and I even read the directions on the shower, who does that kid think he is?”

               Wren followed Nat’s gaze and sighed slightly as Isabeau settled on a rock a few meters from the lake’s edge.

               “Ghost Archer is my father,” Mark said, drawing himself up to his full six foot height.

               Marina’s eyes went round.  “Really? Cool!”

               “Oops, lost a comrade,” Mark turned from Marina to Isabeau.  Bowing to Marina he said, “By your leave, my Lady.”

               “Hum . . .” Marina’s mouth was a thin-lipped grimace.

               Before Mark was half way to her, Isabeau came to her feet suddenly, hands out defensively.  A head broke surface a few meters out from the shore.  Long, pale blonde hair was plastered to the elf girl’s head but flowed out around her like the tendrils of a jellyfish.

               “HI!” the girl said brightly.  She flipped a long stringer of fish onto the shore at Isabeau’s feet.  “Can you get these to Janine, I don’t want to get out of the water.”

               Mark hooked a finger into the stringer and lifted it, admiring the dozen fish.

               “All will be safe,” he said and the girl turned. With a flash of a sleek nude body, she disappeared back into the depths of the lake.

               Marina sat on the floor of the tent and pulled open her duffle.  Mark slung the fish over one shoulder and he returned to the little camp.  Isabeau stared after the girl, her mouth open slightly.

               “Lake elf,” Mark said as he passed Isabeau.  “Oh, Jessy is throwing a party at her camp tonight.”

               Isabeau perked up at the word ‘party’.

               “Jessy?”  Marina said.

               “My little, elder sister,” Mark said.  “Lots of Oreos.”

               Marina frowned, “Little elder sister . . . hmm . . . nice.”

               “She has four back packs full of goodies,” Mark offered.  “And bring your instruments.  Lots of song and dance!”

               “I’ll come,” Marina said, smiling at the tall handsome Mark.

               Wren placed the last rock in her fire pit and dusted off her hands.  At the mention of Jessy, her eyes met Nat’s.  Isabeau, drawn by the prospect of a party, followed Mark back.  He held out the stringer to her and automatically she took it.

               “I always have mine,” he said.  From a pocket inside his tunic he extracted the three pieces of his flute and deftly put them together.

               Isabeau held up the stringer at arm’s length.  “Somehow I am now a fishmonger looking for Janine,” she muttered.  “And I will probably smell like fish for a month.”

               Mark put his flute to his lips and started up a spritely tune.  He danced around the little group.

               “I don’t play but I can dance,” Marina said.

               Wren slipped up beside Nat and whispered, “Is there anything else that needs doing?”

               “Well save one for me,” Mark danced over to Marina and played just for her.

               “I guess we set up the rest of the beds,” Nat said, looked down at Wren and ignoring Mark.

               “Jessy made a nice tree fort,” Mark lowered the flute and stopped dancing.  “Now all we need is the fair maidens.”

               Nat picked up a pair of cots and stepped into the girl’s tent.  Mark sidled up to Wren.

               “Anything I can help YOU with,” he said.

               Isabeau’s mouth dropped open and she huffed.  “I’ll go find this Janine myself,” she said and stalked off in the direction of the other camp.

               “Nay,” Wren said with a shake of the head.  “I am more interested in learning to do things myself.”

               Mark’s gaze followed Isabeau.  “If you wait, I will escort you,” he called, trotting after her.

               Isabeau never slackened her pace.  “You made it over here from there, I am sure I can handle the same trip without help.”

               “Isabeau,” Mark wheedled as he reached her. 

               Nat, watching over the top of the tent shook his head and he heard Marina sighed.  They exchanged looks.

               “This is gonna be fun,” Nat said softly.

               “Nice fish!” Mark called as he caught her up.  “Would you like me to carry them for you?”  They stopped

               “You going to the party tonight?” Marina asked Nat.  “What do we wear, like . . . is it formal or just whatever?"

               Wren threw her hands up in disgust.  “I am going for a walk.”

               “Take a companion!” Mark called as he held out his hand for the fish.  “No one should go alone!”

               Walking backwards Wren growled, “It's the edge of the woods, I'll be fine.  You can still see me.”

               Nat set three cots just inside the newly erected boy’s tent. 

               Marina sighed again, watching Mark, “Think it’s okay if I take a break?”

               “Sure,” Nat said softly. “I got it covered.”

               “Thanks,” she smiled and headed for the lake.

               Isabeau shrugged.  “If you want it so bad, here.  And I even read the direction; can I help it if I have never been stranded in the middle of the middle of Nowhere?"

               Mark hooked his finger into the stringer.  “Yeah, the first time I had to assemble one dad didn't give me the book . . . took all night and it fell down three times.”

               “So?” Isabeau said scornfully.  “You dad isn’t mine.  Mine would not have fallen.”

               Nat, having set up everything in the tents, walked over to the fire pit.

               “Gee, that went well . . .”