The first patch was not enough.
Chaska discovered this when the young tusker ate the fungus, pushed her gently but unmistakably back toward the bank, and began digging again.
“It’s a small hollow,” she told it. “Your standards are excessive.”
The animal scraped mud onto her boot.
Lilt shifted beneath her root. Chaska pointed at her without turning. “You stay there.”
The gesture had more heat than the words. Lilt recoiled. Through whatever passed between them, Chaska apparently felt the result, because she lowered her hand.
“I know. You’re tired of it. So am I.”
She walked over, let Lilt smell the cloth around her thumb, and rested her forehead briefly against the ray’s neck. Then she came back to the bank.
