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He had not really built up any mental picture of what he had expected to find in his snare, but this prisoner was as weirdly alien to him as a Throg.
Then again he heard that piercing wail from the camp, as chilling as it had been the first time. Spurred by that, he won free. But he could not turn his back on the wounded Throg, keeping rather a sidewise retreat. Already the alien had reached the dark beyond the rim of the camp. His progress now was marked by the crashing through low brush.
Shann proceeded with caution, pausing every few steps. There came a murmur rising now and again to a shriek, issuing, he guessed, from the clak-clak rookery above. And the pound of sea waves was also a vibration carrying through the rock. He was listening for something else, at the same time testing the ill-smelling air for that betraying muskiness which spelled Throg.
You have a good appetite for supper, and you sleep in one nap for the nine hours between nine at night and six in the morning. You might try this, Phillis, you and Robert. I do not think your little pony would do, but your uncle will lend you Throg for a fortnight. There is nothing your uncle will not do for you, if you ask him the right way.
First I had him sketch upon the stone floor of our cell as accurate a map of the south polar regions as was possible with the crude instruments at our disposal a buckle from my harness, and the sharp edge of the wondrous gem I had taken from Sator Throg. From this I computed the general direction of Helium and the distance at which it lay from the opening which led to Omean.
The Throg drew the translator back to his mandibles. "When ship call you answer make lip talk your words! Say bad sickness here need help. Code man dead you talk in his place. I listen. You say wrong, you die you die a long time. Hurt bad all that time " Clear enough. So he had been able to buy a little time! But how soon before the incoming ship would call? The Throgs seemed to expect it.
A month later, or maybe two months, and they could not have done it. The grids would have been up, and any Throg ship venturing into Warlock's amber-tinted sky would abruptly cease to be. In the race for survival as a galactic power, Terra had that one small edge over the swarms of the enemy.
He had to locate and return them before Fadakar made his morning inspection; Garth Thorvald's attempt to get him into bad trouble had saved his life. Shann cowered back, striving to make his huddled body as small as possible. One of the Throg flyers appeared silently out of the misty amber of the morning sky, hovering over the silent camp.
He tried to concentrate mentally on a picture of the scene before him, hoping that Thorvald or one of the Wyverns could pick it up. There was no answer, no direction. Choice of action remained solely his. The Terran made the oldest friendly gesture of his kind; his empty hands held up, palm out. There was no answering move from the Throg.
Thorvald had demonstrated the effectiveness of his creation by bringing down one of the small "deer" of the grasslands, an animal normally fleet enough to feel safe from both human and animal pursuit. And those weighted ropes now trapped the Throg with the same efficiency. Having shot his last fireball, Shann ran swiftly to take up a new position, downgrade and to the east of the domes.