[Round 2, Set 5] I don't dance like that.

Dawn breaks across the greatest wonder of the world. As the waterfall fills with sunlight almost as tangible as the great river itself -- a thousand rainbows are cast, and each droplet becomes a shard of incandescent crystal, hurtling to the earth below.

"Ten years ago a volcanic eruption changed the river's course," Said the guide -- straddling the diagonally hung rope ladders as nimbly as someone half his age. The previous day had been hard, and he and Johann had spent the night on one of the rocky shelves jutting out rebelliously from the cascade. At best, there may be minutes between rests. At worst -- several hours of constant climbing. "That's why these shelves haven't been eroded yet, yeah? The river flowed right through the volcanic valley and off the side of these cliffs -- straight off into the desert. That's why he lives up here, painting the newly fertile valleys and the scenes of the water."

He glanced down -- having realized he'd forgotten his charge. Johann, most of his gear stored at the camp at the waterfall's base, was lagging quite a way behind. He shouted, and Johann gave a nod in return, before continuing. He's been collecting water for his gourd -- the river had carved a valley in the plains above by rapidly cooling volcanic rock -- as such all the rich loam was washed down without a chance to deposit, and all water had to be filtered laboriously.

A half minute, a tap to the guide's ankle, and continuation.

|-//

It was late afternoon before the climbers reached their destination. Jutting out like the head of a mighty stone creature fossilized mid-bathe, a great stone protrusion out of the waterfall. Many birds nest in its rough underside and, as the scapes of perceptions shift to the ascending, a surface riddled with the intricate miniature valleys and streams, where the constant beating down of water continues to wear through the rock. It gives the impression of cracks -- it is vast. And while its enemy might not be affecting it much, it is weakening it. And this foe never tires.

The rock was was thirty metres wide, tapering to a point on the edge. The surface seemed never to be still -- water runs through and along it all the time, making it one big load of crazy paving. Pausing for breath -- Johann contemplated the sheer wall of water -- hammering the rock. Standing under there, he reckoned, would mean death by every bone in the body being ground to a powder. And then he turned to the view -- four hundred miles of savanna, decorated by a streak of green, life-sprouting valleys. Life through the desert -- soon, maybe, a whole new trade route linking the eastern and southern continents. Johann grinned, and his guide did too.

"Funny how nature does things, isn't it?"

"Indeed." His friend shifted his feet, sheepishly. "You'll find your painter near the furthest edge -- get him before sundown. This is no place to be caught in the dark."

"How true, my friend. Good luck on your journey -- yeah? Take it easy."

And so hands were shook, silver was passed, and ways were parted. The companion -- up another ladder, almost vertical -- and Johann, casting out across the edge.