Tomek now reached and entered the primal jungle. Tangled myriad of sinuous branches and lianas, twisting under and over one another and everywhere, — scented pink wispy mists snaking through the branches, hanging in the air.
And thick thickets; — groves of bamboo stalks, thick as a man's leg, tall, strong, and true.
~
Here in the jungle, [in the paradise] and the drip, drip, dripping of countless leaves and floral petals, of dew and moss and vines, and hanging, steaming mist, where everything seems to be slowly, lethargically unfolding at once, there is the thump-thump and pitter-patter of forever, and dreams that are slowly unveiling here...
~
His manhood dowsing rod became confused. Like a compass needle near magnetic ore, it pointed in all directions at once. It made him ache and pain.
Which way to go? Which way, the misty maiden?
It was a virgin forest. Unknown to man.
Impenetrable. Impossible to walk, or go anywhere, in this fishnet.
He took out his sword, his machete, and began hacking, piercing and slashing at the lianas, trying to make headway. Progress was slow, he was covered in sweat, and late night he was exhausted; fell asleep breathing the rose mists.
~
White-Tailed She-Deer
The next day, chopping his way slowly through the green morass of vegetable foliage, he heard bird calls in the boscage, but paid them no mind.
And then... he sees her. Rather, first heard her, her bird-like cry, — a pipsqueak high note, — and then saw her, his 'chickadee', — saw her green eyes staring at him through the sea of green. Saw the movement of her half-hidden face and camouflaged, moss-covered body. Then, she leapt, in a flurry of legs and long hair, disappearing into the green and the silence, high-tailing it through the jungle, her white skirt bopping over her white-pantied bottom, just like a white-tailed doe deer, fleeing, its tail-end bopping up and down as she rescinded into the distance, gracefully jumping the fallen logs.
~
Chasing after her was hard going. He could not slither through the leaves the way she could. She seemed to 'fly', like a bird, through the velvety green.
And Tomek does not know this wood. But he presses on.
~
Cat Woman & Her Pantheress in the Branches
Swinging his long sword and slicing and hacking and wacking his way through the underbrush. The birds in the canopy were shrieking. Then he looks up, and sees her, — a near nude feline in the leaves, squating on a branch high overhead. The cat woman. The lass of Tulip Lake. And on the branch next to her was her pet, her black pantheress. They'd been warned by the birds that man had come to the jungles.
The pantheress raised her black head and let out a long, ululating wail, as ghastly as night.
Then the girl raised her head and mimiced her cat, letting out a moanfull cat wail.
With that the lady and her cat bounded away, from branch to branch, whilst Tomek below was helpless to do anything but watch.
~
Two more days and it was hopeless. He could not make any headway, hacking through the wild knotlands.
He decided to back out, go around, look for another approach.
Decided to skirt the jungle entirely, going all around it...
~