Glam-chete was a thrival knife, who turned our perilous peregrination into a luxurious, leisurely stroll. She kept back the humid heat, and the tangles parted for her. She was a first class guide who knew which bugs we could eat, and repelled the others. Purified water, dripped soothing salves. Dried out wood (and also our jackets, from when we fell in the river), then started a fire. She had the best ghost stories and sang us songs, then kept watch through the night. She always knew where we were, and got us to where we’d go.