Eugene-And-Rapunzel

CAMPFIRE    Flynn Rider stands in frigid water reaching his waist. He's frantically running his hands through it. The bottom is dotted with a colorful mosaic of river stones pricking his palms more than shrill coolness. If he's hunting for them, he can say he's the winner.    "Shit, shit, shit," he moans, eyeballing in the turquoise darkness. He hasn't moved an inch in his seeking.    "Eugene?"    That odd girl sits there, petite, pale like ghost – and until recently quiet. Her sparkling green eyes look like two sapphires in the snow. Just now he remembers her unspoken prese