"Before we go any further, we'll need shots. Antitoxin against the Noctoli pollen. The flowers don't grow on the edges of the Forest, but the wind carries their poison quite a ways sometimes." Garth rummaged in his kit, found sealed vials and a hypo, and carefully sterilized everything over a radiolite stove he commandeered from one of the men. After that, he administered the antivirus, first to Paula and last of all to Brown. He took none himself; he had acquired a natural immunity to the pollen. There was barely enough to go around. Brown's shot was slightly less than the regular dosage, which vaguely worried Garth. But the Captain, annoyed by the delay, was anxious to talk about immediate plans. "Benson might land at the edge of the Forest and come after us a mile or so. Not further. But we'd better start moving." He led Garth over to where Paula sat. "It's time for you to see the map." The girl nodded in agreement. She took out a folded flex-paper and extended it. Garth squinted down in the red twilight. "Map?" "More like a treasure hunt," Paula explained. "There's a series of guide-points, you see. So far we're okay--_narva_ means west, in the Ancient Tongue, doesn't it?" "_Narva._" Garth gave the word a slightly different pronunciation. "Yeah. Well--three _sallags_ northwest to the Mouths of the Waters Below--" "Mouths of the Singing Below, I made it." Garth shook his head. "I can't read the stuff. I just know the spoken language. Read the whole thing out loud, so I can get it." Paula obeyed. Her pronunciation made some words unfamiliar to Garth, but by experiment he found what was meant. "Uh-huh. A _sallag_ is less than three miles, as far as I can judge. I think I know the place. It's a hill honeycombed with little caves. You can hear water running underneath it." "That fits," the girl agreed. "This won't be so hard, after all." Garth grunted. He turned to Brown. "I want a gun. And a knife. I'll need both." "Sampson!" The red-haired man approached, squinting. "Yeah?" "Rustle up a knife and gun for Garth." "Check." Paula was staring at Garth. "You expect trouble, don't you?" "I do." She made a gesture. "This all seems so peaceful--" * * * * * "Listen," Garth said, "the Black Forest is the worst death-trap in the System. Here's why. The struggle for existence is plenty tough here. Brute strength isn't enough, nor agility. A tiger or a deer wouldn't last long here. In the Forest, the survival of the fittest means the plant or animal that can get the most food. That sort of thing has been going on here for a million years. The beasts developed super-quick reactions. They could smell danger a mile away. So they had to have strength, agility, and something else--to get close to their prey." Brown stared. "What?"