Making Camp

A couple of miles further they came to a river. Smegg said that
signals show that it ran almost exactly to their target point. They
could ride their JMC inflatable rafts all the way up and could bring
them there before sundown the next day. They decided to camp there
for the night and head out the next morning.
Keto sat nervously on one of the lower branches of a tall tree -
scared to be too low, but on the other hand, too scared to climb any
higher.
Shivering as night fell and the sounds of Harris sharpening his
knife rang out through the darkness, Keto hugged his knees and
wondered vaguely whether there *was* an ointment that would cure
death.
"No chance," he mused, eventually, "Not around here, anyway."
He made a mental note to thank Dirk for saving his life.
Eventually. If the opportunity arose. Perhaps.
"Ah, well, I would have done the same for him," muttered Keto,
banishing the mental note to the back of his mind.
He wasn't quite sure who he was trying to convince. He shivered
again, and glanced upwards, wondering if it was worth climbing
higher. Those things had been big, and dangerous, and could quite
probably knock the trees about a bit, if not climb them.
Still, there was an up-side. An unknown quantity of highly-lethal
creatures...versus Harris. Keto suddenly felt safer, until he
remembered that Harris was two-thirds insane.
"God, even the Pink Tree was better than this!" he murmured.