The Tangle I could be the bullets of a Gatling gun

Rock-hopping was not one of Indra's fortes. She didn't know what she excelled at, but it certainly didn't involve the unsteady terrain that she now tried to cross.

One step went directly in to mud, and then she lost her balance and over-corrected, nearly tripping herself on her own feet. It was a good thing she didn't fall — as she came to a tense halt, her nose was inches from the river's edge. She was flanked on one side by bramble bushes, and trees galore everywhere else.

At once she felt relieved to have saved herself the embarrassment of an impromtu swim. She sighed and sank back against the embankment, rear end connecting with the roots of a tree.

Indra's eyes were closed while she focused on steadying her rabbit heart; but when she opened them, she noticed something swarthy moving on the opposite side of the river — at once, her breath was swept away again.