Despite suffering from the effects of the endless bumping, Serrin still had enough wits about him to be impressed once they reached the razorwire perimeter of their campsite. The elephants, wildebeest, and flocks of birds scattered across the plains and waterholes were a dramatic sight, not least for their sheer numbers. The blood kites had alarmed him, but, again, the shamans protected them from any harm posed by the dangerous creatures. He was irked, though, to find that he needed the help of the African man to get out of the jeep, his bad leg completely drained of any strength. Kristen had just leapt out behind him, and he feit like an elderly invalid as he struggled to get his boots down onto the dust-dry earth.