As quickly as it had emerged, the tongue recoiled, zipping in reverse around her head to disappear back into the visitor’s bulging right cheek pouch. Pitiful as they were, Jemunu-jah reflected, at least the humans had tongues. When among the Deyzara, the Sakuntala had to content themselves with touching tongue tip to the end of the Deyzara’s eating trunk. It was a matter of some debate as to whether it would be more proper to touch tongue to speaking trunk or eating trunk. For their part, the Deyzara did not care. They tolerated the Sakuntala gesture only because they had to.
“I am called Jemunu-jah.”
“I know your status.” Matthias fought against the urge to pick up a dehydrating towelette and wipe her face. Most of the time, the Sakuntala tongue didn’t leave behind much moisture. But she squirmed internally all the same. “You come highly recommended.”
Both flexible ears dipped briefly toward her. “I thank you for the mulat. I say openly to you I would prefer another go in my stead.”
Well, it would be too much to expect enthusiasm, she knew. A lotl was bumping up against the back window, trying to get in. Looking for a nesting place, she suspected. Someone unaware and lumpish to lay its eggs within. Fortunately, the football-size lotl were almost comically slow-moving. If one flew too near, a single swipe with the back of a hand was usually enough to drive it away. If it persisted, a quick jab with any sharp object would puncture its air sac and send the parasite spinning helplessly into the water below. Unless it caught you when you were asleep. On Fluva, nobody slept unprotected, either inside a building or out in the Viisiiviisii. Not if they valued their bodily integrity.