Pressing On

The island that they had been marooned on had had a tropical climate, so that they had abandoned wearing their armour and boots within a few days and made do with their underthings. Here however, it was hotter still, so that even the ragged and now grey shift that was all that Astra wore, and Fred's equally ragged and grey combinations, felt uncomfortable.

As they walked steadily onwards, hoping that they were keeping to a relatively straight line, Fred said: "Water shouldn't be too hard to find. Surely a jungle like this could only grow in a wet climate. I am sure that we shall find plenty of streams."

"Yes, but food may be more of a problem. The only animal life seems to be insects." As if on cue, a mosquito made as if to settle on her bare arm, and she slapped it away. She went on: "We will have to hope to find edible fruit and nuts, but the scarcity of plant life on the ground may mean that we'll have to try climbing some of these trees."

Fred looked dubiously at a towering vertical treetrunk not far away. He hoped that it wouldn't come to that.

1. They come to a clearing, and using the position of the sun and by guessing at the time of day, they are able to orient themselves.
2. They spot a tree that is in the process of shedding its fruit. There are many not too badly rotted samples lying on the ground beneath it. They are of a variety that they have never seen before.

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