Lying on his back, Masurathoo first checked to make sure he hadn’t lost any of the survival gear attached to his waist belt. To his considerable relief, everything was still where he had secured it. He had to rely on his own resources, he knew. The likelihood of either of his companions sharing their own supplies with him was small.
But . . . they had pulled him out of the water.
“What happen?” Jemunu-jah’s tone reflected little in the way of actual concern.
“I saw,” wide, bulging eyes turned to the right, “I certainly saw something moving most noticeably in the water.”
Sakuntala and human exchanged a glance. “What you see?” Jemunu-jah inquired further.
“Movement. I assure you that it was quite noticeable, if not especially distinctive.”
Straightening, Hasa turned his head sideways and spit, an action both the Deyzara and Sakuntala found interesting. “You saw movement in moving water. No wonder you panicked.” He shook his head in disgust. “The Sakis are afraid of their own shadows and the two-trunks are still gooking around in the trees. What a world.”
Having once again managed to insult two species in one sentence without the slightest regard as to how the two local representatives of those species might react, he turned to resume the trek eastward. There was a small gap between the half-submerged branch they were standing on and a dry branch opposite. He paused there, not waiting for his cohorts but judging the distance. Though it was modest, the slickness of both surfaces made even a short jump tricky.