The waterfall burst from the clifftop several hundred feet above and cascaded down to the roiling river below. Small, wet particles floated in Royce’s direction on the thick air, cooling his face. He hacked through the underbrush, making his way toward the cliff. Arthur followed behind, clearing extraneous branches.
When they reached the cliff’s edge, they could see that the waterfall fell several yards away from the rock face, leaving a gap large enough to climb behind. “Art, give me some cover here.” Arthur walked over and pulled the edge of a tarp out from the top of his pack. Royce removed his journal and examined the inscriptions he’d copied from the temple as the water droplets pattered on their makeshift roof.
“‘Enter through the throat of the thirsty serpent.’” He frowned. “Whatever the hell that means.” He peered over Arthur’s shoulder toward the waterfall. “But if it were me digging a cave, I’d do it behind there.” He replaced the journal in his pocket. “Follow me, and mind the slippery rocks.”