“I can only kill what’s there.” The litah acknowledged the compliment with a terse grunt.
“Hunkapa hunt too,” the hirsute hulk bringing up the rear added plaintively.
“Hoy, I’m sure you’re well skilled at sneaking up on small burrowing creatures,” Simna commented sarcastically. “No matter. We all need to be sharp of eye and alert of ear ’til we’re through this hell, lest we overlook even one opportune meal.”
Ehomba’s dry-land lore and Ahlitah’s hunting prowess notwithstanding, they could not eat what they could not find. In the days that followed, no game of any size showed itself, and the nearest thing they found to a water hole was a damp depression in the sand between two hills. Digging exposed only more sand; moist, but not drinkable.
The herdsman did locate a colony of honey ants. Digging out the bulbous bodies of the storage workers, he showed his companions how to make use of them.
“Hold them up by their heads, like this,” he explained as he demonstrated, “and bite off the sugar-water-filled abdomen.” This he proceeded to do, flicking the useless head and thorax aside when he was through.
Simna swallowed uncomfortably. But after trying one of the bloated insects, he found the sensation in his mouth surprisingly agreeable. The taste of the taut, thumbnail-sized golden sphere was sweet and refreshing.
It would have taken a dozen such colonies to slake their thirst, but the supplement to their dwindling reserve was welcome, and the sugar gave a boost to their energy and spirits.