“Hoy, I certainly don’t see any blue-green teeth.” Cautiously, the swordsman resumed feeding.
They were soon finished with their meal. When Ehomba decided they had rested long enough, he led his companions out of the chamber. Choosing a corridor that led west, they left the tomuwog sitting serenely on its twinkling nest. It made no move to interfere with their departure. From the time it had arrived until the moment they departed, it had uttered not a sound.
The passageway provided a smooth-floored, controlled-climate means of making progress. As they jogged along, they passed other herds of grazing animals, and flocks of birds large and small. As far as these active inhabitants of the prairie were concerned, the travelers were invisible. And so long as they kept to the tomuwog tunnel, they effectively were.
The extent of the corridor did not surprise Ehomba. Tomuwogs, he explained to his friends, dug very elaborate, very complex systems of burrows that boasted but few entrances. After a number of days, however, he decided it was time to sacrifice concealment and convenience for the world that lay beyond the tunneled realm of blue and green. For one thing, the corridor was devoid of anything except cool air and blue-green light. They would soon need to find food and fresh water.
Simna fingered the transparent, unyielding wall that enclosed them. “So how do we get out, bruther? Cut ourselves a hole?”
“Only a tomuwog can do that, Simna.” As they trotted down the corridor, the herdsman was scanning the ceiling. “We must find a natural entrance.”