With his feet scraping whirling fins and the outer edges of the gaping oral cavity, Hasa fired repeatedly downward. Though the water absorbed much of the energy from the explosive shells, enough penetrated to discourage, if not kill, the giimatasa. The finning slowed, the mouth closed, and the whirlpool buckled. They were free again, but underwater.
Moments later, one head after another broke the surface of the river. Without waiting to see if his companions were all right, Jemunu-jah struck out for the near shore. The great tree that had seemed so ominous now extended welcoming branches down into the water, providing convenient handholds for him to pull himself up and out. Relieved but worn out, the Sakuntala helped the exhausted Masurathoo drag himself up onto the branch on which his taller companion was sitting. Together, they contemplated the section of river from which they had narrowly escaped.
Jemunu-jah’s sharp eyes scanned the surface, shifted quickly to the surrounding undergrowth. “Where is the human?”
Rolling onto his side, Masurathoo studied the river with bulging eyes. “I most greatly fear that I do not see any sign of him.”
As Jemunu-jah was considering whether to slip back into the water to search for their companion, Hasa’s head broke the surface. Sputtering and cursing, he spotted them sitting on the low-lying branch. A few kicks and he had rejoined them.
“What happened?” Jemunu-jah studied the human, shorter but so much broader of torso and thicker of limb than himself. “Did giimatasa try a second time to drag you down?”