Emma screamed until she was out of breath and gasping, unable to stop yet unable to catch her breath. She sucked in some of her own spit and coughed painfully. The absurdity of choking to death just before falling off a cliff broke through her panic. Surely we should have reached the edge by now. She thought she could hear the noise of a bell ringing above the roar of water.

She opened her eyes. They weren't moving. The water hurried past them, flowing up and over the door in its haste to throw itself over the edge. The drop was close, she could see the ground rising up then flattening out just below the surface, some ten feet from the edge, the water accelerating as it hit the shallows. The air was full of a fine spray from the falling water. It sparkled in the omnipresent light, as though the air was full of glitter. They seemed to have become caught on something. A thick rope suspended two feet above the surface of the water. She followed it with her eyes and saw a wooden pylon not far away, the rope stretched out as far as she could see in both directions before disappearing into the mist. Their door had become caught on a second, thinner rope that hung down beneath the surface. These were spaced every foot or so, forming a wide net along the edge of the waterfall. The ringing noise was coming from a small brass bell attached to the rope. It rang every time their door bumped against it. Are we saved, or caught? she wondered.

She tried to rouse Dean again, laying his head on her knees to keep it out of the water that rushed over the door. His skin looked paler, and she could see veins of black emerging from his sleeves now, spreading toward his hands. He was breathing, but hadn't tried to speak for some time. Something splashed in the water, she looked up.

She locked eyes with a small, dark creature. It stood as tall as its five-foot height allowed and cocked its head. It reminded her of an otter. It was unclothed, its body completely covered in slick, black fur. It had no tail and no ears she could see. Its hands were four long pink fingers that ended in soft, round pads, arranged around a rough pink palm. It had no thumbs. A large cloth bag was slung on its back and in one hand it held a long staff that terminated in a round, barbed hook. It stood on the other side of the net where the water was shallow, two paces from the drop. The hook of its staff was hooked around the main rope of the net, anchoring it in case it slipped on the slick stone of the weir. It stared at her, leaning back slightly to let the staff bear its weight.

"Hello." said Emma.

The creature recoiled, sinking its head into its shoulders, then let out a loud 'dook' noise at her. It leant across and climbed onto the rope, helping itself over using the hook. She could see its feet now, they were similar to its hands, bare and pink, curled tightly around one of the ropes. It gripped the staff in its mouth to free its hands, revealing pointy teeth, and began climbing toward Emma. It moved very fast, paw over paw, like a monkey. She wished she still had a sharp rock on her but they had lost their bags when they escaped from the tower. She felt her pockets without taking her eyes of the creature. She found the lighter and pulled it out. She brandished it and flicked the flint wheel. The soaked thing didn't even spark. The creature paused, head cocked, and made another dook noise at her, while making a sign with its hand. Emma tried the lighter again. It made the same noise and sign, then put out its paw, palm up.

"You want it?" said Emma. She held her hand out and dropped the lighter in its paw. It quickly transferred the thing to its mouth and used one hand to spin the wheel a few times.

"It's broken" said Emma, "sorry." The creature stuffed the lighter into the bag on its back and began to retreat when it saw Dean's body, lying next to Emma. It stiffened, and shuffled back a few paces down the rope, raising the staff to point the barbed hook at Emma. It made a long series of dooking honks and flickered the fingers that were holding the staff.

"What? Dean? He's hurt, he can't move, he won't hurt you. He was attacked by something."

The creature chattered and honked and poked the hook in her direction.

"What? Me? I'm Emma. I'm harmless too. More so, really."

The creature sniffed at her, flaps over its nostrils opening very wide. It dooked a little more softly and retracted the staff back towards it. It pulled the sharp point carefully across one of its finger pads, letting forth a dark red drop of blood. It raised its hand to show her, then shuffled the hook toward her, and thrust its chin at her. Your turn it seemed to say.

"You want me to do the same, show you my blood?" she mimed scratching her hand. One dook, and a flick of it's index finger. yes.

She took the hook in one hand and pressed her finger up against the point, letting a bright red droplet bloom on the surface of her skin. She showed the creature. It approached again, and sniffed her finger carefully, eyes intently staring off into the distance as it focused on the scent. dook, flick. yes.

It thrust its chin at Dean, now, and made a long, slow series of dooks and hand movements, as though talking very slowly and clearly to someone rather confused.

"I'm sorry, I have no idea. He's been like this for hours now, he won't move", said Emma. She mimed going floppy and mumbling. The creature made a rapid honking noise accompanied by a series of flicks, yes, yes, I know. It raised a paw, wait, then gripped the staff in its mouth and leapt back over the rope to the outside of the net, the edge of the weir. It hooked the staff back on the rope to anchor itself then ran back the way it had come, the splashing of its feet quickly muffled by the mist.

Soon after, a shape emerged in the distance. A raft, floating on the inside of the net, two hooks attaching it to the main rope. Two of the creatures were on the raft, pulling it along the rope by hand. She thought she recognised the one that had found them earlier, the other had some white markings around its eyes.

"I guess we're going to have to trust them, Dean" she murmured to his unconscious body, "we don't have much choice." She stretched out on the door, relaxing her exhausted body, and watched the raft approach.

Minutes later she was feeling distinctly envious of Dean as he floated serenely on his raft, pulled by the two creatures. She had declined to walk on the outside edge of the net like they preferred, and was instead climbing along the inside, shuffling down the top-rope sideways, her feet on a second horizontal rope that continued the net just under the water. The rough rope was chafing her soaked and wrinkled hands, and her grip was rapidly weakening. With each step, the bells attached to the current section of rope rang with a gratingly cheerful sound. She paused to rest, and the familiar creature looked back and made a chattering noise. In her mind she had named him Dook.

"I'm just resting for a second, Dook. Don't worry." she said.

Dook honked at the other creature (dubbed 'Eyes') and they stopped to wait while she recovered. Eyes ducked under the water for a second, reappearing with a long piece of wood and a soaked cloth, a catch from the great net. It stuffed into its bag, leaving the length of wood protruding above its head.

It was a gruelling ten minute journey for Emma, although she was sure the creatures would have completed it much faster if not for her. She wondered how wide this waterfall was, how long the flood would last. She let her imagination float, taking her mind off the pain. How big was this net? Did it stretch the full length of the waterfall? How long had they lived here? Had these creatures built this weir themselves, here on the edge of the cliff, allowing them to run up and down their finishing net. Their destination slowly took form through the mist: A village, built on the edge of the waterfall. Balanced on stilts that disappeared into the frothing water, a strip of buildings, two or three wide, clustered right at the edge of the world. Some had been built with decks and covered passages cantilevered out over the void, and seemed to be floating in the spray. Wooden walkways and rope bridges connected the buildings, and Emma could see more of the creatures rushing back and forth in the mist, carrying boxes, dumping bags. How often did the floods occur, she wondered. It must be often enough for the cacti to survive through the dry season. She tried to imagine the village when the flood had receded. Would some water be captured by the weir, leaving a thin lake? They would repair the net, then, and sink posts, and build houses, and sort through the things they had captured during the wet season.

They had almost reached the first building. It was a patchwork of materials. Driftwood, gilded doors, faded signs in unfamiliar alphabets. The refuse of a hundred different worlds. The many pieces had been assembled into a thin single-story building, low for a human but carefully assembled. The muddled parts came together into a single cohesive aesthetic, attractive even to Emma's alien eyes.

As soon as they were within reach, Eyes and Dook stepped onto the deck at the front of the building. It was level to the water, which made it easy for them to drag Dean carefully from the raft. By the time Emma had arrived, they had strapped Dean to Dook's back using his bag. Dean's legs trailed on the floor, Eyes picked them up and the two tottered down the walkway into the village.

Emma flexed her tired hands, enjoying the feeling of firm ground beneath her feet, even if it was a rather wobbly walkway. "Wait, where are you taking him?" she called ahead.

Dook looked back and gestured come with me with one finger. She trailed behind the two, listening to them talk. She noticed that Dook was gesturing with his his free hands while he talked, whereas Eyes, whose hands were busy with Dean's legs, spoke only vocally. She tried to listen for patterns in the vocal noises, but it all merged into one for her. The finger gestures were even harder to follow, flicking and spinning faster than she could follow.

They passed another creature on the walkway, it hopped over the edge and climbed along the outside railing to let them pass. It barely looked at the unconscious Dean, but followed Emma with its eyes as she passed. She wished she knew a greeting, some way of showing friendliness. Dook had been worried when he saw those black veins on Dean's body. Had they encountered that demon before? Maybe they thought she was a demon, and that is why Dook checked if she could bleed. She wondered if smiling was safe, she knew that some animals bared their teeth in anger. The next time they passed another creature she watched its hands. She thought she saw all three of the things make the same motion, a curling of their four fingers to their palm. It was subtle, very fast. Barely a conscious movement. Perhaps that was a greeting? A quick 'hi there'. Maybe it meant "we have caught some dinner, let us cook the girl first".

They stopped at a large two story building, it was built across the full width of the weir, with walkways running around both sides. It was the widest building she had seen, and the first two-story building they had passed. The walkway they were on widened here, leading to a doorway. It had no door but was covered with a thick piece of cloth and had a high threshold.

Dook grabbed the cloth, pulling it back to let them enter. A tendril of Darkness spilled out, dancing around the cloth where he had moved it. Emma froze, so we were captured after all, they are taking us to one of those creatures, those demons, to be finished off. She screamed and rushed the creatures, pushing Dook to the ground with Dean's weight on top of him. She pulled at the bag, freeing his body and began to drag him away. The two creatures were chattering loudly. She felt Eyes grabbing at her arm as it tried to stop her, its fingers were soft but sticky like rubber. She ignored it and continued pulling Dean away. She had no idea what she would do, she just needed to get them away from that dark building.

A crowd of the creatures ran out of the doorway. Dook seemed to direct them, and they easily surrounded her, travelling along the edges of the walkway to cut off her escape. Dook and Eyes were chattering loudly now, neither using their hands at all. An argument? Dook looked at her and raised one palm, wait here, then he disappeared into the building.

Emma stood in the center of the walkway, breathing heavily, surrounded by the crowd of creatures. Each had one of the hooked staffs in their mouths or hands, but all were carefully pointed away from her. The only plan she could think of was to throw herself in the water with Dean, float over the weir and fall to a clean, natural death. Better that than the demon she thought, but let's call that plan B.

Dook emerged from the building again, carefully holding the cloth door open for the creature that followed. Small and shrivelled and grey. It looked very old. It moved with great care, lifting its feet slowly over the high threshold of the door, and walking toward her with delicate steps, as though it had to consciously control each leg. She noticed that it didn't have a staff, instead it gripped a thin white stick in its mouth. It stopped a few paces from her and curled its fingers to its palm. She hesitated, then made the greeting back.

The creature sat in the walkway, folding its legs and taking the white stick from its mouth to lay it in its lap. It placed its hands on the stick, relaxed. There was a pattern of blue on the stick, she saw. Writing perhaps. It was hard and shiny. Porcelain? She felt sick to see it.

The creature spoke. A clicking growl quite unlike anything she had heard the others make. Emma looked at it, baffled. Its voice changed, a high singsong now, full of chirps and trills. Then it changed again, a low guttural noise accompanied by clapping of its hands on its knees. The strange performance continued, the creature producing sounds that Emma felt its tiny body should not be able to generate. Then it said in a voice so human that it sent shivers down her spine "Sal-veh vi-seh-to-reh".