“That shouldn’t be here,” Emily said, staring at the carving I had discovered.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said. “But there it is.”
“Humans haven’t evolved yet.”
“There are sentient rabbits and who knows what else that science hasn’t revealed.”
She shivered and nodded. “The rock is foreign too. I didn’t see any volcanic activity.”
“Is that what you think is unnatural here?” I moved to toe the carving, but thought better of it. “It’s positively Lovecraftian!”
Emily looked blank, so I amended my statement to: “Nightmarish and occult, hinting at secrets and things that are better left unknown.”
“Sounds like the Nazis. And on a different subject, there is a ridge with limestone caves that way.” She pointed to the jungle. “There are some rough trails we can use, but be careful; there are big dinosaurs on them.”
I superstitiously covered the cursed stone #back up. I felt it would cause less harm that way.
She pointed at the stream. “Follow that for a hundred feet and you'll find a trail, oh, ‘Girl of the #Limberlost.’ I’ll fly overhead and warn you of any major dangers. Take care and keep your eyes peeled, or you’ll be in the soup.”
For a second, I thought she meant I’d fall into the murky river. I smiled as I deciphered it. It was my turn to be blindsided by period slang. The reference to “The Girl of the Limberlost” especially threw me. But, as a #Johnny-come-lately, shouldn’t I have had an advantage here?
"Roger that," I replied. That was from the '40s, wasn’t it?
“That’s solid. Let’s get this show on the road,” she responded, beginning to drift up.