Before I even had time to panic, Leonis was on his feet. I hauled myself to my feet, and saw Sarah and Leon already retreating. Leonis was already halfway around the crater, sprinting away from the clearing. I ran after them, hoping to get further away from the clearing before another volley of arrows came down on us. My lungs were already burning, but I continued to run. Weeds and rocks jutted around the floor, and I tripped over one while running. My legs caught each other on the stumble, and I dropped hard into the weeds.

No one turned to save me, but I managed to pull myself up and get a limping lope away. Arrows were now seasoning the ground around me, shafts piercing the dirt. I couldn't guess the time we ran from the clearing, but after what felt like hours of panicked running, we reached the forest edge. We were not equipped for combat, but Ponce de Leon would not have anything less than reaching the fountain. Right then, right there.

We took inventory of our “weapons,” which boiled down to roughly two machetes, and a crossbow with only a handful of bolts. Ponce decided that Leonis and I will take point, himself on our flank with the cross-bow, and Sarah at his flank with a sling.

We charged the now-appearing tribal warriors, Leonis deftly handling the machete with smooth, easy strokes. I aimed purposefully for their weapons, attempting to crush the weapons from their grasp. Ponce de Leon was merciless with the crossbow, striking heads and throats with flying bolts. Arrows were still flecking the ground around us, but in less volume. I was far more concentrated on not dying in close-quarters fight.

“Eyes up, gentlemen.” Called Ponce, spinning to my side and taking the machete from me. Sarah and I fell back, lobbing rocks from the far side of the plain. To our horror, we discovered the tribal warriors were dousing their arrows in fire. Burning shafts were already raining on the plain.

“Oh God,” I said, “more fire...”

“Too close to home, Mark?”

Flame-tipped arrows flew overhead, “Not funny, Sarah.”

“Sorry Mark, trying to laugh without freaking out.”

We continued fighting for what could have been minutes, or hours, when I heard something of a roar behind us. I turned, and saw the fountain of youth, the spring of eternal life, towering with flames. Sarah turned moments after I had, and sank to her knees, “Oh no...”

“Oh Heavenly Father...” Ponce De Leon sounded in shock, I turned, and he was on his knees, gripping dirt with his fingertips. “Please, God, no...”

“Leon, look out!” I moved toward him, leaping at the oncoming warrior. He raised his black-stoned weapon, and I rushed for him mid-air. His arm arced downward, and I knew there'd be no escape. I was going to die. For the second time in 12 hours, I closed my eyes. Death was not something I wanted to watch.

The small thrum of fire was the sound that greeted me when I opened my eyes again. My chest was uncomfortable, and I felt soft padding behind me. My eyes jerked open, and I shot upward. “Where am I?”

“Oh,” Sarah said, from the kitchenette, back in her apartment, “you're in my apartment.”

“What happened?” The cat on my chest looked at me, meowed once, and hopped off of my chest. I could breath again.

“Your apartment burned down.”

“What about the fountain of youth? How it went up in smoke?”

Sarah walked around the bar, setting eggs and bacon out on the table, “I... uh... Were you having a nightmare, Mark?”

Nightmare? “Was I?”

“Probably... Come on, I made some breakfast.”

We ate in silence, enjoying one another's company. We talked about nothing, and I didn't use my brain at all, just coasting through the entire conversation. When I finally broke out of my conversational reverie, my brain passed me a thought.

“Why aren't you at work?” My watch confirmed that she was very late.

“I called in sick today, my friend's apartment burned down.”

“Oh...”

She smiled at me, hugged me once, and said, “So c'mon, let's go house-hunting.”