Hours later, Imago and I sit around a campfire in the heart of the Brazilian rain forest. Through the bitter smoke, I smell the fragrance of night-blooming tropical flowers. I taste the sweet juice of the rich, red fruit I've just eaten, picked fresh from a spiny tree. The jungle shrieks and chatters and hoots with the sounds of nocturnal life. Through it all, I hear the sss River rushing past somewhere nearby.
We have come to a distant place indeed. For company, we have only each other...and the blinking white symbol projected on the blade of my scythe. A tiny oval symbol, pointed at one end, bisected at the other, top and bottom curves crossing, then swooping up and down, capped by a straight vertical line. It's the ancient symbol of a fish.
The ancient symbol of a certain so-ca
