Again the man had been exacting in his measurements, although it was terrifying to lie there in the bottom, with all light blocked, and hear those tendrils slapping and searching about just a bit above him. Finally that, too, stopped, and he relaxed a bit. He had come so far, so very far, and although momentarily safe, he felt his reserves nearly gone.

He heard the naril shift again, and then he was subjected to the ultimate indignity. Unable to reach him in any other way, they were trying to flush him out by defecating on him.

There was an angry, frustrated growl from above and then the naril moved off, allowing some light inside. He did not kid himself that they were gone. At least one still lurked outside, waiting for him to come up, while the other was most likely now up and away into whatever clouds there might be, soaking up moisture as only naril could. He would have given anything for some pf that moisture in a form other than that he now wallowed in.

Clouds… He tried to think. What had the sky been like? His attention had been on more immediate stuff. Still, there were always some clouds around. High ones, of course, which contained less moisture than he would like, but some…

Concentrate… concentrate! If only he had the strength! With supreme effort he closed his eyes and attempted to shut-out all but his sensitivity to the wa, an attempt made doubly difficult by the slimy naril feces being baked even more in the heat of the sun and stinking all the worse for it. He too would bake, he knew, if he did not succeed, for his crude fortress was also a crude but very effective oven.

Think… think! Think only of the wa…

He felt the wa that built his fort from the start, of course, but those he needed now to shut out. He reached out, wa to wa, his to those others, and broke free his vision onto the desert floor once more.