The river colosseum

The colosseum is packed with cheering elves of both genders, on their feet, jumping up and down as they watch two teams of swimsuit-clad women prepare for a game of beach volleyball. Or riverbank volleyball, you suppose.

"The girls in red are the Sharks," explains Heron, with a big goofy smile on his face. You took him along, invisible, to hang out in the women's locker room before the game, and he's still not over it. "The girls in green are the Eels. They're sworn enemies."

"Who's in charge?"

"The captain of the Sharks is Bubble. Don't let the name fool you. She's as tough as they come." He points to a bouncy-looking girl with a round face and nice C-cup breasts jiggling inside her red sports bra, calling out instructions to her team-mates as they warm up.

"And the other one?"

"Meadow, captain of the Eels." She's a tall skinny girl with a sharp face and slim buttocks inside her tight green shorts, stretching on the sand and regarding the other team with a murderous expression in her eye. "She and Bubble hate each other. This match is the grand final, and they'll both do whatever it takes to win."

"Interesting."

"Just so you know, wardrobe malfunctions are no excuse for poor play. Last year a player's top came undone in the middle of the game, and she ran off the field to try to fix it. The judge ruled she'd forfeited the match."

"So you can't leave the arena, or you lose? No matter what happens, you have to keep playing?"

"Yep."

"Well. That gives me some ideas."