The best and quickest route would be to take the channel. Though clearly the channel has drawn them to group here. Something about the water. It is different. It tastes odd. It smells strange too. Not in a bad way like when too many dead fish wash up. More in a very distinct way. Once you know the smell, you never forget it. They must be attracted to the smell or to the taste, though I can’t say I have ever seen them drink anything.
It is uncommon for them to group in such concentration. That makes it far too dangerous to float the channel. One or two we could handle. But look at how many there are. We will take the long way through the brush and through the unprotected fields. Each surely to be filled with its own share of surprises. Hell, I’ll take surprises any day over the grizzly end we would face at the channel.
We pull the skiff ashore and unload it. We strap up and bring what we can with us. Some things must stay with the boat else we will be slowed. We let the boat float down stream in hopes we might come across it again later. It won’t be any good to anyone if left tied off here. A clearing is found a stones throw from the shore. It will make an ideal camp site. She won’t be happy to stay here though. Far to close to the channel. No doubt we will hear them all through the night. The moaning. The wailing and thrashing. No one will find sweet dreams this night.
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