Two hours passed with no contact from Naima. Against her wishes, Father Obregón stayed the course, charging through the wilderness toward her camp.
As his hoversled glided through the fungiscape, he passed the usual parade of wonders but was only dimly aware of them. He wound his way through a forest of massive chanterelles, their pearlescent scalloped lobes blossoming in spectacular fashion...but he didn't really see them. He skated over a field of waist-high fairy ring mushrooms, their curled skirts uplifted like delicate ivory pinafores...but he couldn't appreciate them, either. Same for the procession of filmy lavender veils rippling through the air like magic carpets over red-orange fungal spires.
All he could think about was Naima and what he could do to save her. He wracked h
