If you worked at it you could avoid some of the bigger bits of rain, since the tree cover was pretty dense, but there were rivulets here and there which did nothing for my disposition, or all the work I had done on my claws over the past few dull hours droning over wherever it was we were. There were a lot of dank acidic smells coming up from the ground, which was not unlike the old litter box on a bad day, but with real PineSol. I gingerly made my way over to an overturned cage out of which came what sounded like giggling. I peeked in, and what did I see but three guinea pigs wrestling with each other, oblivious.

"Whoo, what a ride, what a tumble, smash, amazing!" said the most subdued of the trio.
"Look, Ralph, Morning, cat!" said another.
"Whoo," added the third, unimaginatively.
"Good morning," I said, doing my best, "You seem to be doing alright. My name's Mu-- Marlene."
"Cracking good name that, " said the first who was somewhat older than the other two , "I'm -- who am I?"
"You're Ralph!" piped up the second. "I'm Roister."
"Wollops to that," interjected the third, "You're Doister, I'm Roister, or is it Ralph? Makes no never mind, where are we?"
"Somewhere in the North. We fell out of the plane." I interjected.
"Fell?" said Ralph (for the purposes of exposition), "Catapulted, more like it! The old Heave Ho!!!"
And they all fell about giggling, and then began to wrestle with each other again for the fun of it.
I got tired just watching them. Guinea pigs. My god. They were going to last about 2 minutes out here, which is after all usually longer than they last in your average suburban kids room. When I think guinea pigs, I think dustpan and the old garbage pail of death. They weren't going to be much use, except maybe to throw at a grizzly bear for a tenth of a second munchie distraction.
I picked my way in the dampness over to the next cage.