It is not the speed that concerns them. They are not fond of the water, to be certain. The water where they come from usually spelled death, or injury, or worse. They are far from eager to embark upon an experiment to see if the waters here are of the same persuasion.

Still. The alternative is stranding Yuka here, alone and potentially unprepared.

The Drifter holds up a finger - wait. They shuck off the pack strapped to their shoulders, winding carefully back before hurling it across the river in a high parabolic arc. It lands in a dusty tumble on the other side.

They turn to her next.

ok

They're ready.