It was pretty, actually. When I first saw it, it had been dark gray, like its root. Now it was an iridescent blue with cream-colored blotches.

I thought about it. I really didn’t see how such a small creature could hurt me. I mean, I guess it could wrap around my neck or something, but it was soft-bodied. It looked like I could hurt it pretty easily with my bare hands.

When I didn’t pull back, it undulated onto my calf.

Maybe this was part of the possible animal-taming thing I’d discovered on Rib Mountain. I’d pretty much dismissed that “ability” as a figment of my imagination. Maybe I was wrong.

I reached out a finger and touched the tree-’pus gingerly. It was quite cold and had a slimy coating. Oh well, we can’t all be koala bears, right?

It kept moving up my leg, which was a weird feeling. Eventually, it settled in my lap. I looked into its eye. The pupil reflected light back like mother of pearl.

“You’re a very attractive octopus,” I said to it. “It’s nice to meet you.”

We sat there for another ten minutes or so, and then I told it I needed to get up and keep moving. When it didn’t move, I slowly stood. It stayed affixed to the front of me, as though I were a tree trunk. I felt its tentacles shift, wrapping around my waist and ass.

Great. Groped by an invertebrate. Well, plenty of women had that experience, come to think of it.

“All right, little fellow. I have to get going, okay? You’d better hop off.”

From its station on my hip, the tree-’pus stared up at me with one funny pupil. I guess it wanted to stay where it was.

“I’m going to keep walking, okay? You want to get down, just squeeze, okay?”

I took a dozen steps, then looked down at the ’pus. It showed no sign of wanting down. Looked like I had a passenger.

I continued up the forested slope for another couple hours. Eventually I realized it would be getting dark soon. I could worry about the big picture — where the hell I was and how I was going to get home — later. For the time being, I needed to get a fire going so I could stay warm overnight. And cook my snail.

First I went looking for dry tinder. Unfortunately, nothing in that place was dry. Eventually, poking around a fallen tree, I found a bunch of dead moss that was only slightly damp. Then I tried to find dry pieces of wood to use as a board and spindle.

I’d never actually made fire that way, mind you, but I’d seen people do it on TV.

There simply was no dry wood. Not even a scrap.

I sat down and had another cry.