Bellalalinda makes a quick assessment of the situation, and makes a call. Putting her fingers to her lips she lets out a whistle, imitating the lark in the morning when the mist is still on the hills.
Whistler turns, and she points, and the great ape nods, or perhaps shrugs. Soon he is moving towards the river, grabbing a large branch which he offers towards the drowning giant. Bellalalinda skips to catch up.