Perusina, Perusino, and Franz in Tingana

"Trees don't walk," said Perusino.

The canoe glided so silently through the Tingana water forest that his voice sounded much too loud. Immediately, something rustled above them. A bird scolded. Franz ducked.

"Maybe they don't walk," whispered the little Sechura fox. "Maybe they sneak."

Perusina didn't smile. She looked at the Renaco trees growing out of the water to the left and right. Their roots hung down like long legs, some thick as arms, others thin as fingers. They were reflected doubly in the dark water. A tree above. Another below. Mist in between.

The boatman Don Lucho raised the paddle. "Here they say: at night, the Renacos change places."

Perusino crossed his arms. "That's just an old saying."

Don Lucho pointed forward. There stood a Renaco with a red ribbon on a root. "This tree marks the safe channel. When you see it, you know: keep left."

Franz sniffed. "Smells like wet wood, old mud, and a very exaggerated tree story."

Then the canoe continued.

Tingana was not a forest you walked through. Tingana was a forest you glided through. The water carried the boat between Aguaje palms, roots, and reflective shadows. Sometimes Perusina couldn't tell if a branch was really hanging above them or just in the water below. A monkey jumped somewhere in the canopy. A kingfisher shot blue across the channel.

Then they heard a splash.

Not a fish. Not a paddle.

Splash.

Splash.

Splash.

Don Lucho stopped the canoe.

"That was behind us," whispered Perusina.

Franz perked up his ears. "Or under us."

Perusino leaned over the edge. In the water, he saw a red ribbon.

"There! Our tree!"

Don Lucho turned the canoe. But where the Renaco with the red ribbon should have been, there was only water. Only roots. Only reflections.

A few meters further, the red ribbon was suddenly hanging on another Renaco. Right instead of left. Deeper in the channel. Almost hidden between aerial roots.

Perusino stared at it. "Okay. I hate to say it. But the tree walked."

"No," said Perusina.

Franz jumped onto the boat's edge. "Then it swam."

"Neither."

Perusina pointed into the water. There, beneath the surface, was a second reflection of the red ribbon. But it didn't match the ribbon above. The reflection was too far to the left.

"The ribbon up there isn't the same," she said. "Someone moved it."

At that moment, something pushed in front of the canoe.

A Renaco root.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

It descended from the mist like a barrier.

Don Lucho yanked the paddle around. The canoe turned, crashed against another root, and got stuck.

Perusino gripped the edge of the boat. "The forest stopped us!"

"Or someone pulled a string," said Perusina.

She leaned forward. Indeed: between two roots, a thin dark string ran just above the water. Barely visible.

Perusino wanted to lift it with the paddle.

"Careful," said Perusina.

Too late.

The paddle touched the string.

Shhhh.

Something shot up from under the water.

A net.

It stretched between the roots, right next to the canoe. Water splashed. Franz jumped back in fright and landed with all four paws in Perusino's lap.

"I meant to do that," Franz said hoarsely.

Something fluttered in the net.

A young water bird, brown and white, with long legs and panicked eyes. It flapped its wings, but only got more entangled.

Don Lucho cursed softly. "This is forbidden."

Perusina reached for her small knife, but Don Lucho held her back. "Don't just cut it. If he twists, he'll hurt himself."

Franz sniffed at the net. "Someone was here. Human. Oil. Flashlight. And something sweet."

"Sweet?" asked Perusino.

"Maybe candy. Maybe a bad decision."

Then a shadow moved in the mist.

A narrow boat glided away between the roots. No motor. Only a paddle that dipped almost silently into the water.

Perusina saw the red ribbon on the wrong tree. Then the string. Then the reflection in the water.

"They're luring visitors into the wrong channel," she said. "So no one notices where the traps are."

Perusino swallowed. "And we're currently visitors in the wrong channel."

"Then let's not act like visitors."

Perusina took off her backpack strap and handed it to Franz. "You stay in the boat."

Franz took the strap in his mouth and looked offended. "I'm a fox, not an anchor."

"Today you're both."

Perusina knelt at the net. Don Lucho kept the canoe steady. Perusina pushed a root aside with a stick so the bird could free its head. The young bird trembled.

"Very slowly," she said.

Perusino loosened one mesh. Then another. Franz held the strap tightly and growled every time the canoe tilted. Once Perusino lost his balance, grabbed an aerial root, and suddenly hung halfway over the water.

"Don't laugh!" he hissed.

"I'm not laughing," said Perusina.

Franz mumbled with a full mouth: "I am, internally."

Then the bird broke free. It fluttered, bumped against Perusino's shoulder, and landed on a root. For a moment, it sat there. Then it spread its wings and disappeared between the Aguaje palms.

Perusino watched it go. "You're welcome, you feathered menace."

But the case was not yet solved.

The narrow boat had vanished. Only small circles remained in the water. They did not run in the direction the channel led, but across the roots.

Perusina pointed at them. "He didn't go forward. He went between the Renacos."

Don Lucho nodded. "Only people who know the forest well can do that."

Franz sniffed the air. "Oil. Sweet. And cold sweat."

"Cold sweat?" asked Perusino.

"Not yours. His smells louder."

They followed the water ripples. The canoe glided through a narrow passage, so tight that Perusino sucked in his stomach, though it did no good at all. Roots scraped against the boat. A branch lowered in front of them.

"The tree is walking again!" whispered Perusino.

Perusina reached up. A second string hung from the branch.

"Not the tree. The trick."

Don Lucho cut the string. The branch sprang back. Behind it lay a small hidden spot between Renaco roots. In the water floated three red ribbons, a rolled-up net, and an old tin can full of candy wrappers.

Franz nudged the can with his paw. "Exhibit A. Smells sticky."

Behind a root, wood creaked.

The man in the narrow boat was about to paddle away.

"Hey!" shouted Perusino.

That wasn't a particularly good plan, but it was a loud one. The man was startled, his paddle slipped, and his boat turned sideways. Don Lucho skillfully steered the canoe in front of him. Perusina held up one of the red ribbons.

"The trees didn't walk," she said. "They were re-marked."

The man said nothing.

Franz pointed his nose at the tin can. "And someone ate very tell-tale candies."

Later, after Don Lucho had informed the community and the traps were collected, they returned to the real safe channel. The red ribbon hung back where it belonged.

Perusino looked at the Renaco for a long time.

"So it really didn't walk."

Perusina shook her head. "No."

Franz observed the long roots that stood in the water like legs. Then he leaned down to his reflection.

"But if it wanted to," he whispered, "it would have very good legs."

At that moment, the reflection moved.

Perusino's eyes widened.

A fish jumped out of the water.

Splash.

Franz grinned. "See? The forest is playing tricks."

The canoe glided further through Tingana. Palms rustled above them. Below them, a second forest was reflected. And somewhere between the roots stood a tree that hadn't walked. At least not as long as someone was watching.