The litah replied thoughtfully. “There are times when you’re an idiot.”
Gritting his teeth, Simna looked off to one side for a long moment. Still breathing hard, he rested one hand on a knee. “You’re not making this any easier for me, cat. I came over to thank you for saving my life.”
Massive eyebrows rose haughtily. “Saving your life? Did I save your life? Dear me, I suppose I did.” Ahlitah turned back to his kill. “If it will make you feel any better, I assure you it was coincidental. It’s just that I happen to be very fond of eel.” With that, the great head dipped forward and puissant teeth tore into the slick, green-black flesh.
“Hoy, well, thank you anyway, thou maestro of piquant sprays. Simna ibn Sind embraces chance salvation over intentional abstention any day.” Stumbling as he turned, he made his unsteady way back to the place on the bank where he had dropped his gear. Behind him, the clear warm air of afternoon was filled with contented crunching sounds.
Exhausted, and mentally as well as physically spent from their exertions of the morning, they made camp in a thick copse of impressive shade trees not far from the river. The woods on the western bank closely resembled those they had passed through on the opposite shore, except that on the western side larger trees were fewer and farther between.
“These woods seem to be thinning out.” Seated next to the campfire, Ehomba reached down to give the wooden spit on which their evening meal of freshly caught fish was broiling another turn. “If that turns out to be so, it is a great shame. We could have made good use of the windwagon on open plains.”