"I don't know what he's talking about," said Jan, panting as she plodded up the stairs. Her sizeable rear-end, clad in black-spandex, jiggled right at Thomas' eye level, the pink-floral underwear visible under the tightly stretched material.

Thomas diverted his eyes and mumbled something nondescript in response.

The bottom stilled and Jan's face appeared, red and shining with sweat. "Huh?" She wiped her face with her sleeve, grimaced, and brushed the beads of moisture on her thigh.

"Oh ..." Thomas fumbled for his words. "I believe it's a blog."

"Called KhaiPod?"

"Yes."

"Pfft, what a stupid name."

Jan turned back, leaned on her hiking sticks, borrowed from one of the American newlyweds, and proceeded upwards, gyrating her hips like a fat spider.

They ascended a path of slick stone steps, first into the morning mist and later into the rain, hunching their way through a corridor of grey rocks and short, twisted trees and bushes. In spite of the greyness of the weather, their group was a colourful one: dotted with red, yellow and blue ponchos.

At a protrusion in the track, Thomas jumped at the opportunity to overtake Jan and set himself a brisk pace. Their first goal of the day nestled high in a new pass — not as high as Dead Woman's Pass, but more than sufficient to challenge his endurance, especially with no more coca leaves on hand.

A little while later, he caught up with Nadia. She trudged ahead of him, stiff and dogged in her movements, her wheezing lungs straining in the thin air.

He wondered what had happened to change her mood — because something clearly had. The night before, he'd felt like he slept next to a plank of wood. He sighed. It wouldn't take a genius to unravel the root cause of the mystery, and she would open up when she was good and ready. For now, he'd the trek to focus on.

The first highlight soon came into sight. Runkurakay was a circular watchtower, surrounded by quarter circles above a square neck. Splashes of green and orange moss decorated the granite walls. Despite the crumbling mortar, the skilfully stacked stones held fast. The lookout was small and utilitarian, built as a way station to guard the green valley.

He ran his fingers over the rough, moist stone and sensed the echoes of history. He thought it was incredible.

So did Nadia. She raced about the rubble, then stopped and — balanced on one leg, with the other jutting out behind her — tilted her body to peer over a wall and into the valley below.

Content, Thomas settled against the stones. He lit a cigarette and closed his eyes. The wind whispered, and his hair tickled his face. He inhaled, exhaled and relaxed. When he felt a prickle across his skin, he opened his eyes and caught Nadia's. She beamed.

Good, she was happy.

She quirked her head at him in an invitation. He smiled back but didn't move. From where he stood, the view was sensational.

Hours later, they descended an uneven walkway, paved in semi-hewn limestone and worn down over the years by the tread of countless feet. The trail snaked down the mountain slope, meandering through scrub and brush.

Thomas noted a spring in Nadia's step as she wound her way, cheeks flushed and the tip of her nose pink. Matted waves of mousey-brown hair streamed behind her. Halfway down the decline, she turned and smiled up at him. Then, her head jerked, and her eyes locked on something else, flashing.

He pivoted around and saw Khai, still further up the hill, descending with a few unidentifiable figures behind him.

Thomas narrowed his gaze. Nadia was furious at Khai, and this fact worked in his favour, but the state of play might swing the other way should they resolve their current dispute. After all, some people fell in love with rollercoaster romances. He gritted his teeth and focused on her as she skipped down the path.

She's mine.

Nadia disappeared around a bend. A cry rose in the air. Thomas chased after her, heart thumping, and skidded to a standstill. A few hundred meters away, the ruins of Sayacmarca perched on a jutting outcrop, imposing and infinitely more impressive than the last.

"Thomas, come on!"

The track had steepened and plunged back into the mist, the way now slippery, narrow and rutted with a steep drop down the mountain at its edge.

"Careful!" he called, following with prudent, angled steps, impatient to explore before the others arrived, but not enough to risk his neck.

Still moving at a rapid rate, she called back, "Don't be a wuss!"

"I mean it, Nadia." He gulped as an image of her plunging into the fog flashed before his eyes. "Pay attention to where you're walking, this is dangerous."

Her reply was a loud snort as she continued her reckless descent, arms waving at her side to maintain balance. She halted, wobbling, her arms jutting out to stabilise herself. Then she fell.

A hundred heartbeats filled the space of one as Thomas' world turned on the head of a pin. She made contact with the rock on a hollow thud, and her body rolled down one, two, three steps. He ran.

A beat later, he bent over her half-curled, half-sprawled form. Wide eyes blinked at up at him from a pale face, and a trickle of red ran from a gash at her temple.

Shoving down his panic, Thomas systematically moved his hands over her in search of other injuries: grazed hands, perhaps a sprained ankle, and the certainty of a bruise or two.

He breathed again. "You're not too badly hurt — I think. Thank God."

With a groan, Nadia propped herself on an elbow, held a palm to her forehead, and pulled it back, studying the smeared blood. "Yeah, just my frickin' pride."

Thomas chuckled and moved closer. He cupped her armpits. "Here, let me help you." Nadia gripped on to his arms as he levered her up. When he didn't let go, she coughed and wiggled backwards, leaning against the rock-face.

With an awkward grin on her face, she spoke. "Well, I guess it could have gone a lot worse."

Thomas stared at the precipice and ice shot through his veins. Much worse.

To distract himself, he inspected the location she'd stumbled over and spotted the culprit: a loose, seemingly innocent, stone. He picked it up and hurled it away. It whooshed through the air and landed with a series of echoing clunks.

"Thanks."

"Happy to avenge you".

"My hero," she said in a voice dry with sarcasm.

Ignoring the plod of growing footsteps, he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, spat into it and began to wipe away the blood. Nadia pouted as he fussed over her, and his heart warmed. It was all he could do not to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Later.

They didn't notice the pad of feet had ceased until a voice interrupted them.

"Still an unco, I see."

Thomas glanced up and saw Khai stood not a meter away, lips curled.

"You know, you really should start watching where you walk, Nad's."

Thomas bit the inside of his cheek, not wanting to make a scene. An audience approached, only twenty-or-so metres away.

Nadia wasn't that way inclined. "Why don't you mind your own fucking business, Khaipod," she muttered, now hunched over and glaring at the ground.

He scoffed and bit back. "You need to chill out. Seriously, I don't know what's wrong with you."

Nadia's head snapped up, her face crimson and teeth grinding. A moment later, Thomas flinched as she started to shriek. "What's wrong? What's wrong! Are you fucking serious?"

As she jabbed one long index finger at Khai, Thomas did his best to melt into the wall, swearing to himself he would never make her mad.

"You lied about me — to everyone! How fucking dare you? How could you? I trusted you. I — I loved you ..." Her words faded into the wind and Thomas felt his heart clench.

Khai snorted. "I didn't tell anyone anything that's not true."

"Urgh, you're such an arsehole!" She stomped her foot — "Ouch! Oh, for fuck's sake" — and hopped on her good ankle. Khai made to talk, but Nadia cut him off. "I can't believe I wasted all my money on you and that you took it — you stingy, tight-arsed wanker." She let out a shaky breath. "Or that you gave away my ticket! This" — her arm indicated their surrounds — "was a present for both of us, that I paid for. Me. Not you."

"Well if you didn't go running off with other men —"

"I didn't! You sent me away."

"Huh! Yeah, well who could blame me? On your own and drunk with another man. Acting like a slut."

The attack hit its mark dead on. Nadia crumbled in on herself with a heart-wrenching sob.

"Enough!"

Khai flinched at Thomas' voice but didn't back down. "I thought I already told you to mind your business, Tommo."

"I'm with her. That makes it my business."

"Whatever, like I said, she's nothing but a slu —"

For the second time in as many weeks, Thomas grabbed Khai by the collar of his shirt. Blood throbbed in his temples, and his right fist twitched. "Slut, eh?" He brought Khai to his face and twisted the material tight. "The only one here with loose morals is right in front of me." Khai spluttered for breath, but Thomas ignored it. Oxygen was wasted on the bastard. "Don't you remember I saw you that night? Saw you upstairs with that woman, pressed up against the wall, for anyone to see. Have you no respect?"

Khai's eyes bulged, and he started to cough.

"Stop it, Thomas, you're choking him!"

He let go, and Khai landed on his arse, right where he belonged. "I see a coward, without the decency or foresight to hide his indiscretions, let alone account for them."

Khai pushed upright, his right hand rubbing his throat while his eyes burned bloody murder. Behind, stood Savannah, Trent and Rob, their mouths agape.

"Fuck me," said Rob.

A shudder rippled across Khai's frame. Without warning, he shoved past Thomas and elbowed Nadia out of his way.

As she disappeared over the edge, her scream sliced through the silence.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Unco — Australian slang for 'uncoordinated'

Image by John Salzarulo on Unsplash.