The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, the rainforest’s humidity hung overhead like a heavy curtain.
Newt briskly patted Frey and Hermione awake.
“Up, children, we have to move out. Dick says there’s a permanent Third Salem camp downstream. Those lunatics have incredibly sharp noses, so we need to pass by while the morning mist is at its thickest.”
The new boat gifted by the chief was a standard Shuar canoe.
A water-repelling charm had been cast on the natural wood hull, allowing it to practically glide across the water.
It slipped through the calm river with barely a ripple, as light as raindrops sliding off a lotus leaf.
It was far better than the simple magical raft they had originally planned to lash together.
But Frey soon discovered a problem.
The thing had no keel.
Not only did it slide forward and backward, but it also wobbled side to side from time to time.
In slightly swifter currents, the boat behaved like a greased olive.
While the lack of a keel allowed it to run free in the shallows without constantly scraping the riverbed, it also severely tested the paddler’s skill and sense of balance.
Standing at the bow, Dick patiently demonstrated to Frey how to use the current to maintain balance while paddling.
Frey nodded repeatedly.
At least, on the surface, he seemed to understand.
“You’d better actually understand,” Hermione said from the middle, gripping the gunwale tightly, clearly not trusting this precarious sense of balance.
“Don’t worry. When it comes to controlling my strength, I’ve always been a professional.”
“Oh, please. We’ve known each other for ten years, since we were six, and your ‘strength control’ has never been reliable.”
The canoe slowly entered the main channel.
The shrunken-head navigator had been placed upright by Newt over a hole in the bow, with a long wooden rod passing through the opening into the water.
Though his mouth was sewn shut, a strange squawking noise emerged from somewhere inside him:
“Sandbar on the left! Avoid it, avoid it! Turn right ahead—there’s a bloody great electric eel hiding under that rock!”
Under Dick’s expert manipulation, the canoe glided like a nimble water snake through one deadly bend after another.
The friendly Shuar village quickly vanished behind the dense jungle.
On both sides rose impenetrable, towering ancient trees.
The surface of the water was as smooth as a mirror and crystal clear to the bottom.
The river rushed forward.
Aside from occasional adjustments for direction, the four paddles had almost nothing to do.
“Can’t we just use a bit of magic?” Frey complained, waving his heavy wooden paddle with a look of utter distaste.
“Paddling is for Muggles in gyms. Why do we have to wrestle with a wooden stick?”
“Better not,” Newt said, warily scanning the banks.
“The Third Salem is equipped with specialized magic detectors. To them, a magic fluctuation is as conspicuous as a bonfire in the dead of night. Besides… unstable magical energy will attract some rather bad-tempered magical beasts.”
Hermione suddenly pointed at the river.
“Look at that bird!”
Frey looked up at the sky, but saw nothing except a few squawking parrots.
“Not in the sky, in the water! There’s a bird flying in the water!”
Frey leaned over.
Beneath the clear surface, a plump, yellowish-brown little bird was nimbly flapping its wings, its posture identical to flying through the air.
It spun gracefully among the water reeds and snatched a small fish.
Dick made a smug face.
“Told you. In the Amazon, you can see birds flying underwater.”
Newt pushed up his glasses and explained: Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
“It’s a Plumpy. They are one of the very few magical bird species that can maintain flight underwater. Their feathers naturally secrete a water-repelling oil…”
Before he could finish, Frey suddenly noticed a stubborn rock at the bottom of the river move.
It was a superbly camouflaged turtle.
Opening a pointed mouth filled with sharp teeth, its neck shot out like a spring.
It clamped down on the Plumpy’s wing and refused to let go.
A small cloud of red blood bloomed underwater.
The Plumpy struggled to swim to the surface, but was dragged deeper by the turtle’s heavy body.
Quick of eye and hand, Newt gave his wand a gentle flick over the water, hoisting the two little creatures onto the canoe.
Even out of the water, the turtle refused to release its bite, its long neck stretched taut.
“Looks like we have passengers.”
Frey stared at the fierce-looking creature and grinned.
“Hey there, little guy. I like your attitude. Once you bite, you don’t let go. Are you some long-lost relative the Scamanders left behind in South America?”
Newt knelt down and scratched the base of the turtle’s neck, much like soothing a house cat.
It was the turtle’s most sensitive spot, and the effect was instantaneous.
The turtle released its grip and retracted into its shell.
“This is a Brazilian Mimic Turtle.”
Newt handed the turtle to Frey.
“It can camouflage itself by mimicking the colors and textures of its surroundings. Keep it safe. Make sure to provide a semi-wet, semi-dry environment for it. Don’t throw it directly into the water, or it will drown.”
“A turtle that drowns? That’s an embarrassment to nature.”
“Once you travel more, you’ll learn that most of the world’s turtles can drown.”
Newt then handed the terrified Plumpy to Hermione, who was watching with bated breath.
“This one is in your care. Frey has some Essence of Dittany in his bag. When we camp tonight, patch up its wing.”
Dick chimed in, “Tonight, I’ll go into the forest and find some Horklumps. We can crush them into juice and mix it with the Essence of Dittany. It works even better.”
The three of them turned to look at him simultaneously.
“A folk remedy, but it works,” Dick shrugged.
“Our hunters do it all the time.”
Newt rubbed his chin in thought.
“I always thought Horklumps were only used to feed gnomes to make them grow plumper. I didn’t know they could be used as a topical treatment.”
“Those are your British gnomes. Amazonian gnomes will shoot you with poison arrows.”
However, the peaceful atmosphere did not last long.
The navigator suddenly shrieked, “Watch out! Someone’s aiming at your backside with murderous intent!”
Before they could react, a sharp shout echoed from the riverside woods, followed immediately by the twang of crossbow mechanisms.
Several bolts splashed haphazardly into the water.
One bolt thudded into the canoe.
Black, poisonous mushrooms instantly sprouted from the split wood, and the canoe began to grow heavy.
Frey gripped his wand, swallowed hard, and a faint light flickered at its tip.
“Are we taking them out?”
“No need. We just have a difference of opinion; there’s no reason to kill anyone. This is a nice arrow, though. You can keep it as a souvenir.”
“Dick, hurry! We’ve been spotted!”
A series of splashes sounded behind them as several canoes were quickly launched.
It was the pursuing forces of the Third Salem.
“We can use magic now, right?” Frey grinned fiercely.
Without waiting for Newt’s reply, he dropped to one knee at the stern.
“Depulso!”
Instead of aiming at the enemies, Frey pointed his wand at the river behind them.
*Boom!*
With a muffled explosion, the water behind the canoe erupted as if a ton of dynamite had been detonated.
Towering white waves shot into the sky.
The tremendous recoil propelled the canoe forward in a sudden burst of acceleration.
The hull creaked and groaned in protest as the bow shot up into the air.
They were practically flying across the water!
“Frey! At this rate of acceleration, we’re going to crash into that—aaaaah! You absolute idiot!”
Hermione screamed, clinging to the gunwale for dear life.
Massive sprays of water lashed wildly at the stern.
The canoe blasted forward like a stray cannonball, tearing recklessly through the crests and troughs of the waves.
They whipped around a river bend, the furious roar of the water deafening.
Riding the peak of the waves, the canoe behaved like a wild bronco, and they were like the bravest cowboys hanging on.
Water splashed in every direction, instantly soaking everyone to the bone.
“Rock ahead on the left! Now the right! Right! Dammit, you’re going too fast! River bend ahead! Turn, turn!”
The navigator shrieked hysterically from the bow, his words coming so fast they were completely incomprehensible.
Fortunately, Dick was exceptionally skilled.
His wooden paddle held steady against the current like an anchor, allowing the small boat to dodge and weave through the gaps between the rocks—lifted onto a crest one moment, plunged into a trough the next, and nimbly scraping past reefs.
The pursuing Witch-Hunters’ boats behind them had been completely left in the dust.
“Whoo-hoo!” Newt let out a long, thrilled shout amidst the violent jolting, looking as though he had returned to his younger days of chasing fantastic beasts through the streets of New York.
Hermione released her grip on the gunwale and joined in the shouting.
In the face of such extreme speed, all fear dissolved into pure, wild adrenaline.
Indeed, after experiencing something like this, even the most conservative, white-bearded wizard would transform back into a spirited young lad.
The bow finally broke through the dense river mist.
Brilliant, warm sunlight poured down.
Monkeys chattered in the trees, parrots fluttered about, and the rushing river finally emptied into a wide, gentle shallow.
Dick collapsed at the bow, completely exhausted.
Wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, he looked at Frey with lingering dread.
“We’re resting here for the night. I’ll go find some meat and Horklumps in the forest… Kid, you sure know how to cause a stir.”
Hermione wiped the water from her face and asked in confusion, “Dick, it’s barely past noon. We’re not moving on?”
Newt called Frey over to help pull the canoe ashore, before giving his grandson a helpless, playful punch.
“Well, you’ll have to ask a certain someone. He had a grand old time, but he’s worn Dick out. If we keep going like that, we’ll either end up shipwrecked or we’ll sail this thing right into the Atlantic. The distance we covered today will take them a day or two to catch up on. Still… we have to be careful from now on. Frey’s little stunt probably set off every magic detector on the river. The Third Salem is bound to be hot on our heels like a pack of hounds.”
Frey shrugged indifferently.
“As long as we run fast enough after using magic, we don’t have to worry. By the time they track us down, we’ll be long gone.”