"The skin ought to be good for something," Gaby pointed out. "We could make clothes out of it."
Cirocco wrinkled her nose, "If,you want to wear it, go ahead. It's probably going to stink pretty soon. And it's warm enough so far without clothes."
It didn't seem right to leave the biggest part of the animal behind, but they decided they had to. They both kept a leg bone for use as a weapon, and Cirocco hacked off a large chunk of meat while Gaby cut strips of skin to tie the spacesuit parts together. She made a crude belt for herself and tied her things to it. Then they started downstream again.
They saw more of the kangaroo creatures, both singly and in groups of three or six. There were other, smaller animals that moved up and down the tree trunks almost too fast to see, and still more that stayed close to the water's edge. None of them were hard to approach. The tree animals, when they held still long enough to examine, didn't seem to have heads. They were blue balls of short fur with six clawed feet sticking out around the edges, and they moved in any direction with equal case. The mouth was on the underside, centered in a star of legs.
The countryside began to change. Not only did they see more animals, but there were more varieties of plant life. They plodded on through light that was turned pale green by the forest canopy, one hundred thousand steps to the twenty-four-hour day.
Unfortunately, they soon lost count. The huge, simplified trees gave way to a hundred different species, and a thousand kinds of flowering shrubs, trailing vines, and parasitic growths. The only things that remained constant were the stream that was their only guide, and the tendency of Thernis trees to be gigantic. Any one of them would have rated a plaque and a tourist turn-out in Sequoia National Park.
It was no longer quiet, either. During their first day of travel Cirocco and Gaby had only the sounds of their own footsteps and the clatter of their salvaged suits to keep them company.
Now the forest twittered and barked and yammered at them. The meat tasted better than ever when they stopped for a rest.
Cirocco wolfed it down, sitting back to back with Gaby beside the gnarled trunk of a tree that was warmer than any tree should have been, with soft bark and roots that knotted into burls big- ger than houses. Its upper branches were lost in the incredible tangle overhead.
"Ill bet there's more life in those trees than there is on the ground," Cirocco said.
"Look up there," Gaby said. "I'd say somebody wove those vines together. You can see water leaking out the bottom."
"We ought to talk about that. What about intelligent life in here? How would we recognize it? That's one of the reasons I tried to stop you from killing this animal."
Gaby munched thoughtfully. "Should I have tried to talk to it first?"
"I know, I know. I was more afraid it would turn around and bite your legs off. But now that we know how unaggressive it is, maybe we ought to do just that. Try to talk to one.",
"How stupid, you mean. That thing didn't have half the brain of a cow. You could see that in its eyes."
"You're probably right"
"No, you're right. I mean, I'm right, but you're right that we should be more careful. I'd hate to cat something I ought to he talking to. Hey, what was that?"
It wasn't a noise, but the realization that noise had ceased. Only the splash of water and the high hiss of leaves disturbed the silence. Then, building so quietly and so slowly that they had been bearing it for minutes before they could identify it, came a vast moan.
God might moan like that, if He had lost everything He had ever loved, and if He had a throat like an organ pipe a thousand kilometers long. It continued to build on a note that somehow managed to rise without ever straying from the uttermost lower limits of human hearing. They felt it in their bowels and behind their eyeballs.
It already seemed to fill the universe, and yet still it got louder. It was joined by the sound of a string section: cellos and electronic basses. Treading lightly on top of this massive tonal floor were supersonic hissing overtones. The ensemble grew louder when it was not possible that it could grow louder.
Cirocco thought her skull would shatter. She was dimly aware of Gaby hugging her. They stared slack-jawed as they were showered by dead leaves from the vault overhead. Tiny animals fell, twisting and bouncing. The ground began to throb in sympathy. It yearned to fly apart and hurl itself into the air. A dust- devil skittered indecisively, then dashed itself to pieces on the bones of the tree where they huddled. They were lashed with debris.
There was crashing above them, and a wind began to reach down to the forest floor. A massive branch embedded itself in the middle of the stream. By then the forest was swaying and creaking, protesting: gunshots, and nails wrenched from dry wood.
The violence reached a plateau and stayed at that level. The winds seemed to be about sixty kilometers per hour. Higher up it sounded much worse. They stayed low in the protection of the tree roots and watched the storm rage around them. Cirocco had to shout to be heard above the bass moaning.
"What do you suppose could cause it to come up so fast?"
"I have no idea," Gaby yelled back. "Local heating or cooling, a big change in the air pressure. I don't know what would cause that, though. "
"I think the worst is over. Hey, your teeth are chattering."
"I'm not scared anymore. I'm cold."
Cirocco was feeling it, too. The temperature was plunging. in just a few minutes it had gone from balmy to chilly, and now she judged it was getting down around zero. With the wind coming at sixty klicks, it was no laughing matter. They huddled togeth- er, but she could feel the heat being sucked from her back.
"We've got to get to some kind of shelter," she yelled.
"Yeah, but what?"
Neither of them wanted to move from what little shelter they had. They tried covering each other with dirt and dead leaves, but the wind blew it away.
When they were sure they would freeze to death, the wind stopped. it did not diminish; it stopped dead, and Cirocco's cars popped so hard it hurt. She could not hear until she forced a yawn.
"Wow. I've heard of pressure changes, but nothing like that." - The forest was quiet again. Then Cirocco found that if she listened carefully she could hear the dying ghost of whatever had made the moaning sound. It made her shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. She had never thought of herself as imaginative, but the moan had sounded so human, though on such a mighty scale. It made her want to lie down and die.
"Don't go to sleep, Rocky. We've got something else."
"What now?" She opened her eyes and saw a fine white powder drifting through the air. It sparkled in the pale light.
"I'd call it snow." They went as fast as they could to keep their feet from getting numb, and Cirocco knew it was only the still air that saved them. It was cold; even the ground was cold for a change. Ciroc- co felt drugged. It could not be possible. She was a spaceship captain; how had she ended up trudging through a snowstorm in her bare skin?
But the snow was transitory. At one point it was a few centimeters deep on the ground, but then the heat began to well up from below and it melted quickly. Soon the air was getting warmer. When they felt it was safe, they found a place on the warm ground and went to sleep.
The haunch of meat did not smell too good when they awoke, and neither did Gaby's hide belt. They threw it all away and washed in the stream, then Gaby killed another of the animals they had begun to call smilers. It was as easy as it had been the last time.
They felt much better after breakfast, which they supplemented with some of the less exotic fruits they found in great profusion. Cirocco liked one that looked like a lumpy pear but had meat like a melm. It tasted like sharp cheddar cheese.
She felt as if she could march all day, but it turned out that they could not. The stream, their guide for the whole journey so far, vanished in a large hole at the base of a hill.
The two of them stood on the edge of the hole ;and looked down. It gurgled like the drain of a bathtub, but at long intervals made a sucking sound followed by a deep belch. Cirocco didn't like it, and edged away.