J A C K scaled the rest of the miniature plateau, falling twice and hitting the same outcropping he’d hid from the ‘triceratops’ on, and when he made it to the top he found a small cave. About twenty feet wide, and twelve feet high at its tallest. Angular, some rocks about half his height off the ground. One wide enough for him to sleep on. He got some of the tall, straight plants – hard-barked, black, some nine feet tall near the river but the ones near the cave no taller than him – and built a fire. He cut his hand, and it was exhausting, and he only had success after the sun had already gone down. But now, at least, he could keep away the bugs. He’d only had to kill one – a two-foot centipede. The others were all small enough for him not to notice, or scared away. There was a puddle in the corner of the cave. Six feet around and three deep. He submerged himself in it, the closest to a bath he’d get here. He’d drank some scummy, opaque water from it. It tasted li...