<em>Eventually the group gathers their equipment. There is not much on the llamas, and they're not riding animals so you let them go. They seem happy to be away from the jungle. It takes the party a few hours to break out of the dense canopy of  dimness that is the jungle-lands. You find yourselves amidst tawny waves of grass. Large trees bigger than cathedrals grow every few miles, their roots jut from the ground like giant wyrms frozen in time. You have done well to stay ahead of the storm, but the sky turns darker and a green tint begins to form. Icy cold rain, not like the warm precipitation that usually falls this time of year, pelts each of you like tiny cold needles. Lightening strikes the savannah and thunder rolls on. The nearest tree is a quarter mile southeast of your current position. It's thick canopy offers promises of shelter.   </em>