Prism - By Rachel Moschell Page 0,24

pool that formed the base of the waterfall. The climb around the edge of the pool, grabbing frigid rocks for support, had been awesome; making it to the back of the roaring waterfall, staring through the rushing water from the darkened cave behind it, had been unbelievable.

Now the sun was beginning to drop behind the forested mountains, and the chill of wet clothes caused Noah to sigh and admit that it was time to change and head back to town.

For a huge dinner, hopefully.

With all the hiking and rock-climbing they had done today, he felt that tonight he would eat like a horse. And sleep like a baby.

“C’mon, I think we should go.” Eduardo had worked his way back from behind the falls and now stood ankle-deep in swirling water next to Noah. He leaned close to be heard over the pounding of water upon water. “It’s getting late.”

“Sure, ok,” Noah mouthed, and gently flicked the blue butterflies off his arm, sorry to see them go. The two Australians had already begun to climb down the wet, slippery rocks high above the truck, baseball caps dripping water down their sun-burned faces. Noah slipped into the cold water, feeling the push of the uneven pebbles at the pool’s bottom against his feet. Being tall was an advantage in this case, and he didn’t find it too difficult to discover all the handholds and make it safely back to the flat ground close to the road.

All of the guys pulled on the t-shirts that they had left strewn across some scrubby plants near the truck, and then sat on dry boulders in silence, eating juicy mangos, letting their soaked shorts and legs dry a little in the sun.

It was good they had brought Kory Tour’s truck instead of the Jeep. At least now they wouldn’t have to get the seats of the Jeep wet and squishy with their behinds.

Noah smiled to himself, wiped his sticky fingers on the sides of his shorts, then got up and followed the guys to the truck. They made sure everyone had their cameras, phones, and was wearing shoes, then swung themselves up into the bed of the rusted white pickup, sitting on the sides. Tobias went up front to keep Lázaro company, and as soon as he had slammed the pickup door, they bumped their way back onto the road, headed to Coroico.

“So, what did you guys think?” Lázaro turned around to look at them through the open back window of the truck’s cab, hands casually gripping the wheel. The guy’s English had a funky British accent going on; Lázaro told them he had gotten his masters in England. “Aren’t the falls awesome?”

“Oh my gosh, yeah,” Tobin said, practically yelling to be heard over the noise created by speeding over the uneven road. “That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Kayaking yesterday was cool though, too.”

“Lázaro is the man for kayaking!” Eduardo said loudly. “This guy taught me everything I know about camping.” Noah and Eduardo had come to Coroico before and spent the day kayaking with Lázaro as their guide last year. It was great that Lázaro had been available this year, because the guy was a lot of fun and knew everything about the Great Outdoors. He even had a workshop in town where he brought people in from little villages around Coroico and taught them how to promote the cool things in nature right in their towns for when the tourists came.

“So you guys are going to Cotapata tomorrow, right?” Lázaro asked, adjusting a pair of dark shades over his eyes and pulling his wool Irish cap down against the glare of the setting sun. His pearly teeth shone against his tan as he grinned at them in the rearview mirror.

“Yep,” Eduardo said. “We’re really pumped for this hike.”

Cotapata National Park was going to be amazing. A diverse ecosystem, filled with species that ranged from the giant condor to the spider monkey.

Lázaro let up on the gas a little bit now, as Coroico was getting closer and a higher speed could be risky with more vehicles on the road. Spiky bushes laden with tiny red coffee beans lined the road, and behind them glossy banana plants sprouted, bundles of ripening violet bananas clustering from their stalks.

The citric aroma of the three oranges Noah had eaten wafted to his nostrils, still on his skin, and he inhaled deeply.

This was tropical paradise.

The pickup slowed down even more as they rounded a