So when they awoke, they had ample light with which to view their surroundings, though it took a while for their eyes to adapt to the sequencing flashes of the ovatu. Visible through the rotting break in the side of the trunk that had admitted them the previous evening, morning rain was falling lazily outside their latest sanctuary.
As he was eating an inadequate morning meal from their dwindling store of supplies, Jemunu-jah noticed Masurathoo gesturing oddly to him. Both trunks were gesticulating tersely and the Deyzara’s right arm coiled repeatedly in the direction of the rear of the trunk. Finishing the last of his food, the Sakuntala moved to see what the two-trunk wanted. While the diameter of the hollow space inside the fallen tree was generous, he still had to bend to keep from bumping his head against the curving ceiling and its ranks of harmless perfectly aligned pulsating ovatu.
Settling down next to the Deyzara, he spared a sympathetic glance for his companion’s badly shredded rain cape and was glad he didn’t need one. His fur kept him drier and more comfortable than any garment. The only advantage he saw to the rain capes was that their owners could remove them and clean them separately.
“I am compelled to point out, my tall friend, that if we do not do something to change the present situation, we are going to die here and be food for the first fungus that decides to invade our bodies.”
Jemunu-jah started to rise. “If you going to do nothing but complain, I would rather get ready for walking.”