“Excuse me, bruther? That doesn’t make any sense. There is no space between colors.” The swordsman’s brow furrowed as he struggled with a concept for which he had no reference points. “There’s blue, and then there’s green. Where and when they meet, they melt together.” He made clapping motions with his hands. “There’s no ‘space’ between them.”
“Ordinarily there is not,” Ehomba readily agreed. “Except where the tomuwog dig their burrows. It is just a tiny space, so small you and I cannot see it. Cats can.” He nodded to where the litah was still exploring the far reaches of the chamber, poking his head into bulges and side corridors. “Ask Ahlitah about it sometime.”
“But this is not a tiny space we have been running through, and are sitting in now,” Simna pointed out.
“Quite true. That is because it has been enlarged by one or more tomuwog to make a burrow.” He gestured with his free hand. “As I have already told you, this is one of their nesting chambers. Tomuwog burrows are hard to see and harder to find, as you would expect of something that only occupies the space between colors. I was hunting for one while the fire was closing in around us. As I said, we were lucky to find it.” Finishing the pear, he started on a dehydrated peach.
“The walls of their burrows are very tough. They would have to be, or people would stumble into and break through them all the time.”
“And we’ve passed these things before?” Simna made stirring motions in the air with one downward-pointing finger.
“Of course. They are not common, but are widespread. I remember a particularly large burrow from the mountains near Netherbrae, and one in the desert where we encountered the mirage of the houris. And there were a number of others.”