Free Luana by Alan Dean Foster Page B

the side of a mountain range, only in miniature.”
    He took out his machete, though he didn’t really need it yet. The lianas and creepers were not yet thick enough to make the going really difficult. But in another hour or so the expedition would resemble a long line of flies marching single file through an unending ollapodrida of spider webs.
    When they stumbled into the first natural clearing, Barrett didn’t think twice about continuing, even though it was a good three hours to sunset
    “We’ll make camp here.” Isabel fulfilled his expectations by asking the inevitable question.
    “Mr. Barrett? We seem to have a good deal of light left. Shouldn’t we make all the distance we can?”
    Barrett sighed and stood, let the bearer continue to unpack the tent.
    “Izzy, how’s your balance?”
    “My . . . sense of balance, you mean?” She looked puzzled. “What has that got to do with . . .?”
    “Well, we could press on,” he interrupted. “But I’d have to be assured that your balance is real good. See, here,” and he waved an arm to encompass the clearing, “we’ve got a nice natural little clearing, rare enough in this kind of forest. But if you think you can sleep on a tree limb without falling off why, I’m willing to continue.” She looked unsatisfied, but there was nothing he could do about that.
    “Relax. If there’s still anything left of your father’s plane, another couple of hours or days isn’t going to make any difference. It’s been there for fifteen years, right? Slow down, Izzy. Nobody runs through this jungle.
    “And while you’re at it, you might take some of those clothes off. You’ll feel better and sweat less.”
    She looked at him sarcastically. “Dear me, I thought one would get terribly sunburnt if he did that.”
    “Eighty percent of the time you’ll only see the sun indirectly, or at an angle. Or haven’t you noticed that the vegetation hereabouts is, shall we say, somewhat dense? Anyhow, I wasn’t referring to your top shirt. You can get some ugly cuts from a few of these creepers, and the thinner trees you tend to ignore often have nasty thorns. I was referring to certain undergarments.”
    “You’d enjoy that. That’d give you a cheap thrill, wouldn’t it?”
    “Oh Christ,” groaned Barrett. “Listen, lady, do what you want, okay? I made a simple suggestion. Now, you can run around naked or put on a fur stole for all I care. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like to share my sleeping hours with the bugs. So excuse me while I get this tent up, huh?”
    Unhappy without knowing quite why, Isabel walked away. That he had the nerve to make such a suggestion . . .!
    She winced. Also the good sense. The damn straps felt like they were cutting her into bite-sized chunks and the sooner she got it off, the better.

Chapter V
    You knew the sun had set even if you couldn’t see it. The trees turned orange and brown and mauve, and dark places began to swell like black bubbles in the underbrush. Tiny kerosene lamps sent screen-smattered patterns of light out of the tents, and the single fire in the center of the camp popped and cracked, an aural mirage of some imagined war.
    In nearby trees four pairs of eyes observed the camp. Half of them picked up the firelight and threw it back, stronger than ever.
    “I’m certain the one who leads is the same we saved from the evil one’s poison,” whispered Luana.
    Chaugh grumbled irritably. “Foolishness to follow them thus. More foolishness they should return. We should let them die, this time.”
    “Why Chaugh,” she murmured, reaching out to the next branch to rumple the fur behind the huge panther’s head, “I do believe you’re jealous of the male.”
    Chaugh jerked his head away and rested jaws of black iron on crossed forepaws. The panther was moody tonight.
    “That is a man-term. I do not understand.”
    “I’m not entirely sure I do either,” Luana admitted, sadly. “It’s hard enough to learn