Besides, if you stayed in one place in the Viisiiviisii for any length of time, things would start to take root on you.
“Something else,” he added. “Whoever did this, for whatever reason, might not be completely confident that just marooning me out here is enough to do the job. After a while, they might decide to come and check on the results of their handiwork personally.” He patted his side arm. “Since this is about all I’ve got in the way of defensive ordnance, I’d rather not be around in case they show up.” His attention turned back to Jemunu-jah.
“All right, big-ears—this is your country. Pick a direction. I usually lead, but when someone else knows the territory better than me, I’m not ashamed to follow.”
“It is not that simple. We cannot just go straight northward.” Turning, Jemunu-jah indicated a complex of interlocked trees and lianas. “Except for places where is no other choice, we must keep above the water.” His eyes focused on the human. “Rain is life; flooded forest is death.”
“Pithily put.” Hasa gestured broadly. “Lead on, Junko-juke.”
“Jemunu-jah,” the Sakuntala corrected him, biting back the words he really wanted to use. Selecting a branch just above and in front of him, he reached up and pulled himself to a higher level. They had to get farther away from the surface of the water.
“You are both, you should please excuse my expression, making a big mistake.” Masurathoo showed no sign of moving from beneath his leaf. “We must remain with our downed craft if we are to have any hope of being found.” Using both hands and both trunks, he made a four-limbed gesture into the depths of the rain-washed Viisiiviisii. “Go in there and we will be lost forever. All too many times this place has swallowed the most confident and experienced of individuals.”