I limped out past the last of the trees, moving toward the river I remembered seeing. I badly needed water, and the ’pus’s skin had taken on a dry, sticky feel that couldn’t be good.

Once out in the ferns, I looked back.

There were the minis, grouped near the last tree, stretching up to watch me over the fronds. I stood for a moment, frozen with terror. If they attacked again, I didn’t think the ’pus would be able to save me. I wasn’t sure what it had done the last time — an explosion of some kind — but it had clearly used up its water doing it.

The minis didn’t attack. They watched me for a minute and then turned and retreated back into the forest. The trees seemed to mark the edge of their territory.

So whose territory was this? I looked around with renewed fear, but couldn’t see anything but waves of soft green, moving gently in the breeze.

I tucked the ’pus up under my sweater. Maybe the poor critter would stay a little moister under there. Then I struggled on, desperate for water.

I found the river fairly quickly, thank god. I was so thirsty, and was starting to feel sick and dizzy, as well.

Knee-high ferns grew right up to the banks. Their dense roots formed a spongy mat that kept my feet from sinking into the mud.

When I reached the water’s edge, it occurred to me that there might be aquatic predators to worry about. I took a few steps back and surveyed the river. It was wide, slow moving, and very clear. For some ways out, it was only a foot or two deep, but then the water darkened, as though with great depth.

I couldn’t see anything moving out there, but that didn’t really mean anything.

I sank to my knees and pulled the ’pus out from under my shirt. I lowered it into the water. It sat there stiffly for a minute, and I was afraid it had died. But then it unfurled its tentacles and relaxed into the water, its oblong pupil staring up at me.

“Drink it up, little guy,” I said.

I leaned down and drank as well.

After a few minutes, the ’pus started crawling back up my arm, its cocoon of water reformed around it. I pulled it up onto the shore but was too weak to lift it — it must’ve weighed thirty pounds with its watery coat. So I sat back and let it crawl into my lap.

Jesus, I owed my life to an octopus.

At least for the time being. I wasn’t in good shape.