They were approaching the alligator breeding grounds, although by this time most of the great creatures had been cleared from the banks. The survivors were wary, sinking into the water and vanishing from sight when the boats appeared. The females were the last to leave, for surprisingly enough these primitive and unintelligent beasts cared for their eggs and their young. Boats were pulled up on the shore ahead where a working party of fargi labored in the sun. They drew up their own boats beside them and Vaintè turned to the supervisor, Zhekakot, who watched from the shelter of a large tree.
“Tell me of your work,” Vaintè said.
“Much progress is being made, Eistaa. Two boatloads of eggs have been sent to the city. We are netting all the young we can. They are very stupid and easy to catch.”
She leaned over the pen at her side and made a quick grab, then straightened up, holding out at arm’s length the baby alligator suspended by its tail. It twisted and hissed and tried to reach her with its tiny teeth.
Vaintè nodded approval. “Good, very good. A menace removed and our stomachs full. I wish all of our problems had such an agreeable solution.” She turned to Stallan. “Are there other breeding grounds?”
“None between this place and the city. When we have cleared here we will work upriver and out into the swamps. It will take time, but it must be thorough.”
“Good. Now we will look at the new fields before we return to the city.”
“I must return to the other hunters, Eistaa. Zhekakot will be able to show you the way if that is agreeable.”
“Agreeable,” Vaintè said.
The air had become wonderfully stifling hot as the wind died away completely. The boats pulled out into the river and Vaintè noticed that the sky had an odd yellow color to it that she had never seen before. Even the weather was different here in this strange part of the world. As they moved back downstream the wind began to rise again—but it had changed direction and was blowing from behind them. Vaintè twisted about and saw the dark line that had appeared on the horizon. She pointed.
“Zhekakot, what is the significance of that?”
“I do not know. Clouds of some kind. I have never seen anything like it before.”
The black clouds rushed towards them at unbelievable speed. One moment they had just been a smear above the trees, then they rose up, came closer, darkening the sky. And with them came the wind. It struck like a sudden fist and one of the boats, caught sideways, overturned.
There were cries, suddenly cut off, as its occupants were hurled into the choppy water. The boat dived and splashed and managed to right itself, while the Yilanè in the water swam away in all directions to avoid the boat’s thrashing. None of them appeared to be injured as, with great difficulty, they were dragged from the choppy water and helped aboard the other boats. All were many years from the oceans of their youth and swam awkwardly. Vaintè shouted instructions until one of the more adventurous fargi, eager for higher status even if it meant risking injury, swam over to the still agitated boat and managed to clamber aboard. She spoke to it sharply, kicking it in a tender spot, and finally managed to get it back under control.
The wind howled viciously about them, threatening to swamp the other boats. All of the Yilanè now had their membranes drawn over their eyes and their nostril flaps closed against the driving rain. Then, audible even over the screaming wind, was the sound of a great crackling from the forest as a giant tree blew down, taking smaller ones with it.
Vaintè’s voice could not be heard above the wind, but they understood her instructions to keep the boats away from the river banks lest they be crushed by any more falling trees.
The boats bobbed wildly in the breaking waves; the Yilanè huddling close together in an attempt to keep warm under the cold, driving rain. It seemed a very long time before the wind began to be gusty, then lessened a slight bit. The worst of the storm appeared to have passed.