"We could try it," agreed the plant. "But first one of my kind must come into speaking range. We still hunt our great improbable chance."
There was a moment's silence between them in the wind and rain. The river was noisy, working against the rock of the island.
"There must be something that would give us a better chance than just sitting here," said Calvin.
The plant did not answer.
"What are you thinking about?" demanded Calvin.
"I am thinking of the irony of our situation," said the plant. "You are free to wander the water, but cannot. I can wander the water, but I am not free to do so. This is death, and it is a strange thing."
"I don't get you."
"I only mean that it makes no difference—that I am what I am, or that you are what you are. We could be any things that would die when the waves finally cover the island."
"Right enough," said Calvin impatiently. "What about it?"