“What’s going on down there?” Martin said. “Is that a sloth?”

The ethnobotanist had been so lost in his own sorrows that he had hardly acknowledged Gina’s climb up the pole and had only now realized that a sloth was making its way toward us.

“Just be cool,” Gina said. “And tell Rix the same.”

Martin said, “Rix passed out a few minutes ago.”

“Damn!” I said. “Try to keep him awake.”

Martin began shouting at Rix to wake up.

A long minute later, Camila finally made it to me. She reached out with her claw and touched my back.

“Hi, honey!”

She smiled lazily.

The tan sheath and knife were attached to Camila’s stomach with clear tape wrapped around her front and back. The sheath was facing away from Camila’s head, the butt of the knife near the middle of her chest. There was a button clasp, but thankfully, it was unclasped.

I was trying to figure out how to get the knife in my hands without Benecio noticing, when Gina said, “Use your mouth.”

“Good idea.”

Camila climbed up my back. She poked her head over my right shoulder, her big, beautiful eyes just an inch away from mine. She touched her nose to my cheek.

The butt of the knife was three inches from my mouth.

“Hi, sweetie.” I nodded my head to my left. “Can you come around a little farther?”

She continued gazing at me.

I asked Gina, “What is Benecio doing?”

“He’s watching, but he doesn’t seem too concerned.”

I snapped with my left hand. “Around, come around.” I wiggled my right shoulder.

She came around to my front a few inches. I stuck out my tongue and skimmed it across the butt of the knife.

I craned my head forward and bit at the butt of the knife with my front teeth. I was able to pull it out a half inch. I tried to slide the butt farther back in my mouth to get a better grip, but it fell out and slid back into the sheath.

I said, “I don’t think I can do this without breaking all my front teeth.”

“I’ll buy you some new ones,” Gina said. “Now go! Benecio is getting suspicious.”

I bounced Camila up two inches, squeezing her between my chest and the pole. I might have pinched her a little, and she let out a squeak.

“Sorry.”

“Go!” Gina whisper-shouted.

The hilt of the knife was in the perfect position and I bit down hard. “I hink I gard id,” I mumbled.

I moved the hilt back in my mouth an inch, so it was clenched between my back molars.

I said, “I eed ew to detagt Ben-ee-hee-o.”

“What?”

“Detragtin. I eed a di-trac-tin.”