Strongbow is equally pleased to see Tyleet gone. **She was a threat to us. The worst kind. A child who doesn’t deserve to be here, but is inoffensive enough to have crept almost all the way to the end. Although now it will be even harder to dislodge Savin from her supporters, I’m confident we made the right decision.**

Crescent: I certainly didn’t win myself any good karma with Tyleet. But then we haven’t really been on the best of terms anyway. So... we’re down to five. The only question is... who is going home next? Who isn’t going to be here for Final Four?

“It’s a little presumptuous to be thinking about who we’d like to take with us to Final Four,” Crescent says. “So much can happen in three little days. But... if I could choose... I’d take... Cheipar... and who else? Savin or Weatherbird?”

Strongbow:**Savin has played harder. I am not afraid to acknowledge that. For a pseudo-Wavedancer-rip-off she is a worthy opponent –**

Savin: I just felt the weirdest chill on the back of my neck. Did someone just call me a Wavedancer? Oh drukk. Look, just because we live around Crest Point and know a few elves who like to make like mermaids does NOT make us –

Strongbow:**-Therefore it would serve me better to be rid of her. If she made Final Two, she would have many supporters in the Jury. But at the same time... Weatherbird has not played as hard – she’s just clung to Savin and Cheipar – and yet... she has this damnable talent of making everyone... happy. She’s so inoffensive. I doubt she’s made a single enemy in his game. Of course... given the choice, I know who I would rather be rid of. But someone seems to think he deserves a chance.**

Crescent shrugs. “It’s hard to say for certain. I don’t think he ever would have been as quiet as you. Or as... thoughtful. I haven’t had much to say to Krim over the years – we’ve never really crossed paths – but I know Vaya pretty well, and I can see a lot of her in you.” Crescent smiles. “I’m glad she didn’t die in your world. I wonder... if there’s another Alternaverse out there somewhere where I don’t die.”

Cheipar is silent a moment. “What’s it like?”

“Being dead?”

“Dying.”

“Oh.” Crescent bites her lip. “Well... I suppose it’s different for everyone. I was lucky. It was quick. The humans... they didn’t waste time. I remember... seeing them... and screaming.” She frowns. “And then there was a hand on me. And I was out of the water, lying on my back on the grass. And then... I can’t remember. I think... I think there was a rock. Or a club. Something... hard. And then it was over... just like a bad dream. Living in my skin was the dream... and I was just waking up for the first time.”

Cheipar shakes his head. Crescent nods. “I know. When you’re alive... you can’t imagine it. But when it happens... things change. Your way of thinking and seeing.... And it’s comforting.”

Cheipar looks a little pale under his sunburn. He shakes his head again, signalling an end to their conversation.

They walk in silence a while longer. Then Cheipar breaks the silence. “Why did you answer the casting call?”

Crescent shrugs again. “I guess I had something to prove. I’m tired of hearing ‘Oh, I really loved Crescent, she was such a great character.’ Like I don’t exist anymore. Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean I just... stop.”

Cheipar raises an eyebrow. “Searcher?”

Crescent blushes. “That wasn’t too heavy-handed, was it?”

Cheipar shakes his head. Emboldened, Crescent continues. “Well... it was supposed to be Bearclaw – he always calls dibs on the whole ‘Come back from the dead and warn my loved one in a fever vision’ thing. But I said ‘Drukk it,’ you know. Bearclaw always gets to make the guest appearance. So I snuck out of the Palace while Bearclaw was busy playing another round of toss-stone with Guttlekraw and did it myself.” She giggles. “Bearclaw was already ready to wail on me. I told him: ‘You better check yourself, Grenn. I’ve been around here longer than you – I’ve got seniority.’”

“You said ‘Check yourself?’” Cheipar asks skeptically.

“Well, not really,” Crescent admits sheepishly, and they both laugh.

Weatherbird:(eyes narrowed, arms crossed) Little ghost better watch herself, that’s all I have to say. She’s treading a very fine line here. I’ve got friends in dead places too, you know.

Savin: What the sweet... ?

Winnowill: Yes, that’s right. Today’s reward challenge is all about that bane of all stoned college students. No complicated obstacle courses. No baffling tribal game. Just you and the cube. First one to complete his or her Rubik’s Cube will be declared the winner.

Savin: This is a new low. You do realize that.

Winnowill: Why, thank you. Now, this challenge is in part an endurance challenge. And that means we’ll go on as long as it takes to solve this puzzle. If you all drop out in complete frustration, the last one standing takes home the prize. Want to know what you’re playing for? Bring it in, boys!

After ten minutes of struggling, Savin gives up and throws her cube away. She stalks out of the line-up and wades into the water to cool off. After another twenty Crescent is still meditating, while Strongbow is still grunting in frustration. Weatherbird and Cheipar work systematically, but appear to be making little progress.

After half-an-hour, Strongbow gives up in frustration. Cheipar is working harder now. Weatherbird appears to be stuck. Crescent awakens from her trances and gets to work. Strongbow and Savin watch spellbound as she rotates one face, then the other. Even Weatherbird pauses to observe the ghost at work. Slowly the colours begin to align. And suddenly an entire face is completed. Then another.

At 34 minutes, it is over. Crescent has the cube solved. Cheipar and Weatherbird must abandon their quest.

“Winner, Crescent!” Winnowill announces. “This monstrosity of engineering is yours to take home at the end of this game. How’d you like to take it for a test drive?”

Crescent eagerly snatches up the keys and the map Winnowill holds out to her. “Just follow this trail to the rest of your reward,” Winnowill explains. “Now... it would be pretty lonely out there, wouldn’t it? So you can pick one friend to come with–”

Crescent: Cheipar!

Strongbow: **I have to trust that this is part of Crescent’s larger strategy. I have to trust that she knows what she’s doing. I have to trust her. If you can’t trust your firstborn, who can you trust.**

Weatherbird: Of course I trust my lifemate. What kind of question is that? You’re a very rude camera-troll, you know. Of course I trust my Cheipar. It’s her I don’t trust.

Weatherbird: She better watch herself! I can summon Madcoil, you know. I can!

“So who do you predict is going home in two days?” Crescent asks Cheipar as they hike up the winding path through the jungle.

Cheipar shrugs. “Your father keeps winning immunity.”

Crescent laughs. “Of course he does – he knows you would have kicked him out long ago if you could have. You’re right, though. He probably will win immunity again. And if I win immunity, I’ll probably give it to him.”

Cheipar thinks about it. “Then... Savin would want to vote you out.”

“And? Would you and Weatherbird back her?”

Cheipar shrugs. Crescent laughs lightly. “I bet Weatherbird would. I see the way she’s looking at me lately. She’d love the chance to be rid of me.”

Cheipar shakes his head. “She knows we have an alliance.”

“Do we? You know I have an alliance with my father. I know you have an alliance with Weatherbird. You know Weatherbird has an alliance with Savin. And they all know we have an alliance. That’s five. But we can only go one with four. One of those has to break.”

Cheipar looks at her skeptically. Crescent shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says. “I’m getting ahead of myself. You can’t make any plans until the next immunity challenge is over and done with and we see who takes home the necklace.” She floats on ahead of Cheipar, leaving him to watch her cautiously as she ascends the last grade to the hill.

They find the rest of their reward – enough gas to make it back to the beach. They take turns lugging the heavy gas can back to the Humvee. It is getting dark by the time they fill it up and climb inside. Crescent fires up the engine and hauls on the wheel until the behemoth turns around.

They are silent on the ride back to the beach. Only when they reach the sand and the trolls ready to take possession of the keys again, does Cheipar open his mouth.

“You won’t leave your father?”

“No,” Crescent says.

“I won’t leave Weatherbird.”

“Then you’ll have to either leave Savin... or leave me,” Crescent pronounces.

Cheipar nods.

They return to camp and join Strongbow, Weatherbird and Savin, who are in the middle of dinner. **What did you talk about?** Weatherbird sends to Cheipar. He shrugs. Strongbow pointedly moves to sit down between Cheipar and Crescent. **Will he change sides?** he asks her. She shrugs.

Morning on Day 41 sees Strongbow watching Savin warily as she cleans seashells on the beach. “Figure they’ll make nice drinking cups – might as well take something home besides parasites,” Savin remarks to the air. She senses Strongbow watching her and she rolls her eyes. “Drukkin’ predictable.”

Cheipar is drawing lines in the sand and crossing them out one by one. “Doping a little math?” Crescent asks cheerfully. He nods. “Is the answer in my favour?” she attempts next. Cheipar only shrugs and continues to work.

Weatherbird is looking for food around lunch time when she spies a camera mounted in the bushes. It is ideally positioned to catch footage of snakes and frogs following the slime trail left by the slugs on the way to the water hole. Weatherbird grins and disconnects the camera, then totes it back to camp.

Savin: We were all getting pretty bored – you get to this point where you’ve figured out how to survive everything this island throws at you, and then you’ve got nothing to do but sit around and watch your hair grow. We’ve tried a few board games – chess scavenged from driftwood and the like, but they’ve all gotten old after a while. I mean, how often can you ask if it was Colonel Sandflea in the Driftwood Conservatory with the Conch fragment?

Crescent: So when Weatherbird showed up with something we could take apart...

Random Camera-Troll Number Three: None of us really knew what to do. We’re not supposed to interfere with the cast. I mean, Winnowill canned one of us just for laughing audibly when the Glider kid decked her. So we just sort of stood by and watched them.

Savin: And then we all kind of got bored, and I suggested we dismantle the camera and make wind chimes or something.

Winnowill: I am so billing them for that.

“Just imagine...” Weatherbird breathes. “Tonight we’ll be down to the Final Four.”

“Wanna place any bets?” Savin gamely asks. No one accepts her offer.

Day 42 dawns to see Strongbow and Crescent in a heated conference on their way to tree-mail. **-Just think about it,** Strongbow sends. “I know you like him, Crescent. But do you really want to give him a 1-in-four chance?”

The camera does not record Crescent’s reaction, but cuts abruptly to Weatherbird and Cheipar as they share a locksending near the shelter. Then the camera pulls back to show Savin sitting out on the rocks, looking into the tidal pools as the tide slowly recedes.

Savin: I never liked the even-number days, because it always meant there’s going to be another tie game. But I’d really like another player right now. We need a tight alliance of four. Otherwise what do we have? Crescent and Strongbow – Cheipar and Weatherbird – and what about me? Drukk it, you know what? I almost miss Coppersky right now.

“We’re supposed to just... throw them?” Savin stammers.

“Come on, you’re all Wolfriders,” Winnowill shrugs.

“I’m not!” Savin snaps.

“Count yourself fortunate, dear. Now. Everyone behind the line we burned into the grass with toxic herbicide. You’ll all throw together. When all three of your plates are destroyed, you’re out of the running. We’ll keep playing until the last plate is left up. Last one standing gets immunity and a guaranteed spot in Final Four. Survivors ready?”

The five elves line up, pebbles in hand.

“And let he who is without sin... ah, never mind, that joke doesn’t work,” Winnowill dismisses. “Fire!”

They cast their stones. Savin’s aim goes wild. Crescent throws her stone like a skimmer over water, and it chips Savin’s plate, though it does not break it. Strongbow scores a hit on Cheipar’s plate and breaks it. Weatherbird narrowly misses Crescent’s plate. Cheipar shatters Strongbow’s first plate.

“Interesting. The guys take the damage. Strongbow and Cheipar, you both have only two chances left. Savin, Crescent and Weatherbird, you’re still on the board with three chances.”

They throw again. Still Savin misses. Cheipar lines up another stone and throws for Strongbow’s second plate. He misses. Strongbow breaks Cheipar’s second plate. Crescent breaks Savin’s first plate. Weatherbird breaks Crescent’s first plate.

“Try holding it like you’ll skip it, Gramma. Just hold it up higher, there you go,” Weatherbird councils.

On the third throw, Savin scores a hit – but unfortunately it is Weatherbird’s, not the intended Crescent’s. “Sorry,” Savin murmurs. Cheipar again misses Strongbow’s plate. But Strongbow’s aim is unerring, and he destroys Cheipar’s third plate. Cheipar is swiftly eliminated.

“Well, it seems we know who Strongbow considers the biggest threat,” Winnowill remarks as Cheipar sits down on the bench.

On the fourth throw, Strongbow turns his attention to Weatherbird’s plates, while Crescent chips Savin’s final plate. Weatherbird takes aim at Strongbow’s second plate, and manages to overshoot it by less than an inch. Savin finally scores a hit on Crescent.

Winnowill calls a time-out and tallies the damage. Savin has one plate remaining. So does Crescent. Weatherbird and Strongbow have two.

Crescent scores a hit on Savin in the fifth round, and Savin is eliminated. Savin’s own stone falls short. But Weatherbird’s precision throw breaks Crescent’s plate. She turns back to see that Strongbow’s flawless aim has destroyed her second plate.

“Weatherbird with one plate left, Strongbow with two,” Winnowill says. “This challenge could be over in the next round.”

Weatherbird and Strongbow line up their sights. One chance remains for the Alt elf. They both throw their stones. Strongbow’s misses for the first time, chipping Weatherbird’s plate but leaving it still dangling. Weatherbird’s stone shatters Strongbow’s second plate.

“And we’re down to the wire,” Winnowill shouts. “Survivors, take aim...”

Weatherbird and Strongbow prepare for their final toss. “Fire!” Winnowill barks, and they launch their stones. Weatherbird’s narrowly overshoots. Strongbow’s aim is true. Weatherbird is eliminated and Strongbow reclaims the immunity necklace from Winnowill.

“You play for keeps,” Winnowill remarks as she helps him don it.

**Don’t be cute,** Strongbow sneers. **I think we all know this is the only reason I am still here.**

“And now you have a guaranteed spot in Final Four,” Winnowill continues. “Who knows... if you keep winning immunities like this, you could just waltz into Final Two. Strongbow is safe tonight. The rest of you... you’d better bring your bags. If this game has proven anything, it’s that anything’s possible in council.”

The elves return to camp to pack and plot. **Savin?** Strongbow sends to Crescent. She nods.

Cheipar and Weatherbird sit on the rocks, deep in thought. **We take Crescent now,** Weatherbird sends. **You, me, Grandmother and Strongbow.**

**Could either of us beat Savin in Final Council?**

Weatherbird shrugs. **She’s played well. But I think you’ve played harder. And Savin has some enemies on the Jury.**

Cheipar considers it. **We all have enemies on the Jury. Except you. I should vote you off now and do myself a favour.**

Weatherbird grins. **But you won’t.**

Cheipar gives her hand a squeeze. **Savin or Crescent...** he muses. **Crescent has a lot of enemies on the Jury too...**

The elves arrive at tribal council to the ominous funeral-pipe-medley played at half-speed. Winnowill is glammed up in full Elvira-wear. “Welcome to the fourteenth tribal council of Survivor,” she says. “I’ll bring in the Jury.”

The four-member Jury marches in. Tyleet is last to enter; her hair freshly washed and bouncy once more. “Tyleet, voted out at the last tribal council,” Winnowill adds needlessly.

“So,” Winnowill sits down and begins the customary grilling of the remaining players. “Forty-two days in. You’re tired, you’re hurting. I can smell you from here. The end is in sight now. Only three days left until one of you is declared Sole Survivor. Savin – what does that kind of stress do to an elf?”

Savin: Talk to my twenty ulcers, Winnowill. None of us feel very comfortable right now, I don’t imagine.

Winnowill: Crescent. You've said you wanted to play this game to prove that an elf can still be relevant even after she is dead. As someone who’s been dead more than once myself, I can sympathize. What do you think will happen if it is you who goes tonight? Will viewers say “Oh, I guess she was wrong. There will always be that bias towards the living?”

“Indeed,” Winnowill says. “And better than most.” The members of the Jury all glare – save Littlefire, who is not paying attention. But Winnowill continues, heedless. “So, Cheipar. Anything to say? Anything at all. Come on... big word!”

Cheipar shakes his head determinedly. Winnowill throws up her hands. “Fine. It. Is. Time to vote. Get in there.”

Weatherbird votes first. She writes Crescent’s name on the paper and holds it up. “I have an alliance with my grandmother. You know that.”

Strongbow goes in next. He writes Savin’s name in a large all-caps scrawl.

Savin, Cheipar and Crescent all enter and exit the voting booth with equal determination and efficiency. There is no hesitation in tonight’s vote. Winnowill gathers the votes and prepares to read them out. “For one person tonight, a spot as our fifth member of the Jury. For the others, a 1-in-4 shot at two million Djunian dollars. I’ll read the votes. First vote: Crescent. Second vote: Savin. Third vote: Crescent. Fourth vote: Savin. We’re tied at two and two. Final vote... aw damn, my throat’s pretty scratchy. Can I get some water or something?”

Winnowill pauses for a long draught of sparkling water while Crescent and Savin hold their breaths and cast furtive glances around their tribemates. Both their gazes settle on Cheipar.

Finally Winnowill coughs prettily and draws the final vote. “And the sixteenth person voted off Survivor: Alternaverse...”

She turns the final vote around. It reads SAVIN.

Savin smiles tightly, exhales, then gathers her bags. She glances over her shoulder at Cheipar as she rises from the bench. Their eyes met. Savin nods slowly. Cheipar nods back.

She brings her torch over to Winnowill to be extinguished. “Savin, the tribe has spoken,” Winnowill tells her. “It’s time for you to leave.”

Savin waves goodbye to the others and walks down the boardwalk, out of camera range.

“Strongbow... Crescent, Weatherbird... and Cheipar,” Winnowill pronounces solemnly. “The perennially lauded canon regular...  the series’ favourite ghost... the Alternaverse’s darling... and the crossover silent threat. Who would have imagined it would come down to you four. You can head back to camp. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”
 

SAVIN’S LAST WORDS  So you got me. Got me good. I have to tip my hat to you. And you’ve got my vote if you can make it all the way. See you soon.