From the base of its neck the sevasalu’s spine split in two, one backbone running down each side of its body. Between the two was a deep swaybacked depression filled with rainwater. Within this mobile pool dwelled small plants, whirling arthropods, tiny vertebrates, and the occasional larger amphibious predator. There were even a few fruiting fungi whose free-floating mycelium drew nutrients from the decaying bodies of dead creatures and other detritus that sank to the bottom of the sevasalu’s deeply swayed back. As a by-product of feeding, the mycelium excreted certain strong alkaloids. Absorbed into the sevasalu’s body, these were what gave its flesh the unpalatable taste that caused wandering predators to avoid it.
The sevasalu carried on its back a miniature self-contained ecosystem.
Setting aside for the moment all fear of his surroundings, a thoroughly entranced Masurathoo followed the sevasalu as it made its deliberate, lazy way down a branch running parallel to theirs. So absorbed was he in investigating this new, motile zoological wonder that he threatened to fall behind his guide. Seeing that the human was steadily expanding the distance between them, Jemunu-jah did his best to chivy the Deyzara forward.
“We will see more,” he told Masurathoo. “Hurry up.”
Reluctant to take his leave of the most fascinating creature he had yet encountered in the Viisiiviisii, Masurathoo nevertheless forced his attention away from the indifferent sevasalu and back to the trail-breaking Hasa.