"She all right?"
"Sure," Brown said. "Resting is all. We got away from Benson's plane—hit that fog-bank just in time. You'd passed out, so I took a chance and kept going. After we reached the Forest, I landed the raft and headed inland a bit. So here we are."
Garth nodded. "That was wise. The river goes underground a half mile further. Any—accidents?"
Brown looked at him oddly. "This might be Yosemite, for all the danger I've seen so far. It's a picnic."
"That," Garth said, "is just why it's so bad. You don't see the trouble till after it's happened." He didn't explain. "Where's my kit?"
"Here. Why?"
"Before we go any further, we'll need shots. Antitoxin against the Noctoli pollen. The flowers don't grow on the edges of the Forest, but the wind carries their poison quite a ways sometimes." Garth rummaged in his kit, found sealed vials and a hypo, and carefully sterilized everything over a radiolite stove he commandeered from one of the men. After that, he administered the antivirus, first to Paula and last of all to Brown. He took none himself; he had acquired a natural immunity to the pollen.
There was barely enough to go around. Brown's shot was slightly less than the regular dosage, which vaguely worried Garth. But the Captain, annoyed by the delay, was anxious to talk about immediate plans.
"Benson might land at the edge of the Forest and come after us a mile or so. Not further. But we'd better start moving." He led Garth over to where Paula sat. "It's time for you to see the map."
The girl nodded in agreement. She took out a folded flex-paper and extended it. Garth squinted down in the red twilight.