Here we are. The first belomisian test of strength — the gate to the depths of the jungle. I tell the twins to stand back as I whip out my machete. Long gone are the days when I would be the one to watch as Mom cut the overgrown branches down.

It’s possible I swirl it around a little too much and do a few unnecessary tricks, just to impress the twins.

Cyril is not watching, however. His nose is pretty much stuck on the sign near the gates, the one that clearly says “DO NOT. GO THERE.”

Luckily, it’s written in Selvadoradan, and Cyril can’t speak it.

What he can do, though, is tell what the pictograms mean, and the simplified, rain-washed spiders are no less terrifying than the “beware the tarantulas” warning.

Cléo is still standing a way back, watching.

Trust a twin to offer the best comfort. “It’s okay,” I hear her say. “Han knows what she’s doing, and I’ll hide you from the tarantulas if I need to.”

I hear Cyril giggle and conclude it was effective.

In the jungle, the mornings can get really cold. Cléo opted for the shorts, and she’s starting to wonder if that was such a great idea. It wasn’t really, but at least in a few hours she’ll be the only one of us who won’t be burning up.

While I work to destroy the branches, Cléo has kneeled next to a suspicious pile of dirt from whcihprotude what might just be old omiscan artifacts. She tries to encourage Cyril to dig around with her, but Cyril’s not about that. At all.

The path is cleared, and ready to be crossed. I’m the first to step through and clear the way. The most dangerous thing I run across is a family of capybara. One of their young is hurt, and by luring him with plants, I almost get close enough to inspect the wound — but I only manage to get bitten by one of its parents. So I decide to leave them through it — and I look for the next gate.

I made it! Now to go back to guide my siblings through.