They were over the nearest island. Pilgrim took a swing around it,
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mbt for men, admiring the tropic ferns that clung to the coral. At this tide, their bony roots were exposed. Not any flat land here at all; he flew on to the next, a larger one with a pretty glade just within the ringwall. He floated the boat down in a smooth glide that touched the ground without even the tiniest bump. Ravna Bergsndot looked at him with something like suspicion. Oh oh. "Hei, I'm getting better, don't you think?" he said weakly. An uninhabited little island, surrounded by endless sea. The original memories were blurred now; it had been his Rum member who had been a native of the island kingdoms. Yet what he remembered all fit: the high sun, the intoxicating humidity of the air, the heat soaking through his paws. Paradise. The Rum aspect that still lived within him was most joyous of all. The years seemed to melt away; part of him had come home. They helped Greenstalk down to the ground. Ravna said her skrode was an inferior imitation, its new wheels an ad hoc addition. Still, Pilgrim was impressed: the four balloon tires each had a separate axle. The Rider was able to make it almost to the crest of the coral without any help from Ravna or himself. But near the top,
复件 (35) air max1, where the tropic ferns were thickest and their roots grew across every path, there he and Ravna had to help a bit, lifting and pulling. Then they were on the other side, and they could see the ocean. Now part of Pilgrim ran ahead, partly to find the easiest descent, partly to get close to the water and smell the salt and the rotting floatweed. The tide was nearly out now,
复件 (88) air max1, and a million little pools -- some no more than stony-walled puddles -- lay exposed to the sun. Three of him ran from pool to pool, eyeing the creatures that lay within. The strangest things in the world they had seemed to him when he first came to the islands. Creatures with shells, slugs of all dimensions and colors, animal-plants that would become tropic ferns if they ever got trapped far enough inland. "Where would you like to sit?" he asked the Skroderider. "If we go all the way out to the surf right now,
复件 (92) air max1, you'll be a meter underwater at high tide." The Rider didn't reply. But all her fronds were angled toward the water now. The wheels on her skrode slipped and spun with a strange lack of coordination. "Let's take her closer," Ravna said after a moment. They reached a fairly level stretch of coral, pocked with holes and gullies not more than a few centimeters deep. "I'll go for a swim,
复件 (98) air max2, find a good place," Peregrine said. All of him ran down to where the coral broke the water; going for a swim was not something you did by parts. Heh heh. Fact was, damn few mainland packs could swim and think at the same time. Most mainlanders thought that there was a craziness in water. Now Peregrine knew it was simply the great difference in sound speed between air and water. Thinking with all tympana immersed must be a little like using the radio cloaks: it took discipline and practice to do it, and some were never able to learn. But the Island folk had always been great swimmers, using it for meditation. Ravna even thought the Packs might be descended from of whales! Peregrine came to the edge of the coral and looked down. Suddenly the surf did not seem a completely friendly thing. He would soon find out if Rum's spirit and his own memories of swimming were up to the real thing. He pulled off his jackets. All at once. It's best done all at once.
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