Something small and bright sprang from one miniature mushroom barge to another. Its action was soon being imitated by more and more of the finger-sized creatures. Each had a single powerful leg protruding from the middle of its underside and a single eye on top. In between was a cylindrical body lined with bioluminescent spots that flashed every color of the rainbow. Springing between gaudy floating fungi, the brilliantly adorned creatures looked like dancing jewels.
Marveling at the glittering miniature ballet, Masurathoo found that he was approaching the far side of the river faster than ever and seemingly with greater ease. With each contraction, his muscles were growing used to the effort. Only when he tried to linger to examine a particularly radiant cluster of fungi and its shimmering, energetically hopping passengers did he realize he was moving toward the looming forest wall without making any effort.
“Giimatasa!” Jemunu-jah was yelling. Masurathoo did not know what a giimatasa was. He did know that Jemunu-jah did not shout unless the Sakuntala had good reason for doing so. In the Viisiiviisii, that reason was not likely to be benign.
Flexing hard, Masurathoo tried to change course, found himself unable to do so. Something was dragging him and his companions south of their course, in the direction of a dark coiled mass of tree that loomed out over the river. Searching as he swam, he sought evidence of something inimical hiding in the tree, saw only a few small pius—tiny brown-and-blue winged creatures that were little more than balls of fluff composed of wiry, rain-shedding feathers. Further examination showed that the tree itself was nothing more than what it appeared to be and not some monstrous lurking predator in woody disguise.