He straddles the black water, each boot on a different tuft, standing with the easy balance we all must learn or else we die. “There’s something over there!” I hate the tufts— knobs of land sticking out of the water, covered with limp grass like dirty hair. If there are a lot of them, we have to carry the boats.
Tufts are small, fist-wise fingers of earth sticking up from the black water. They tend to exist in clusters, making those areas very unsafe for Treasure hunters in the world of The Sundered who make their... and others who use boats.