FORTY-SIX
Crammed into a tiny cabin, being heartily sick into a bag whenever the pilot felt the need to fly them through another tight turn, Penny wished she'd stayed back in camp. She hated flying and helicopters were the worst.
Still, she had to admit, the view wasn't too bad out the front window. A multi-layered waterfall trickled from the river at the top of the cliff, through a bunch of tiered lakes to where the river twisted away, far below. If only the river didn't resemble pea soup. Penny's stomach rebelled at the thought of food, so she hunched over a fresh bag.
Good thing, too, as the helicopter spiralled down to land.
Penny was the first out of the helicopter, not stopping until she was more than a dozen metres from those deadly rotors. She wondered if there was any other
