Nothing had latched onto his body. No tentacles or ropy limbs swathed his legs or torso. No claws or jaws had snapped shut on his arms or neck. In the absence of visible or tactile interference it was impossible to tell what was pulling him toward the tree. Then it occurred to him that it was the water itself that was dragging him southward downriver.
Fighting hard, Hasa soon curved around to face him. Then the human seemed to be behind him, with Jemunu-jah to the north. Masurathoo felt himself moving faster and faster. In addition to the physical discomfort and bewilderment he was feeling, he found himself growing dizzy. Then he looked down and saw the giimatasa.
Or rather, part of it. Only the open maw was visible, inky dark and menacing. That and the large swiftly stirring fins that were generating the artificial whirlpool that was sucking them down toward the riverbed. It was shallow here, close to the shore beneath the shadowing tree. Shallow and a bit of a backwater. This made it easy for the giimatasa to spawn its prey-snatching vortex. Having detected the three bodies swimming in its general direction, the creature had set in motion a singular feeding behavior that threatened to draw all three of the travelers into the waiting mouth below. Even as he was being sucked downward toward a horrifying death, Masurathoo found himself wondering by what astounding physiological mechanism the giimatasa managed to take in and simultaneously expel such vast quantities of water.
Recognizing the danger, the human had finally ceased trying to swim clear of the inexorable eddy and had drawn his side arm. Jemunu-jah did likewise, but his shot went astray. It was hard to keep one’s head out of the water, battle the drag, and aim at the same time. Fumbling with his own weapon, Masurathoo had to struggle just to hang on to it. When his head was pulled underwater, it was hard to know which way to thrust his breathing trunk.