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Updated: May 13, 2025
The confounded stuff certainly looked of a biteable texture. Then it seemed to me that it smelt rather well. I picked up a fragment and sniffed at it. "Cavor," I said in a hoarse undertone. He glanced at me with his face screwed up. "Don't," he said. I put down the fragment, and we crawled on through this tempting fleshiness for a space. "Cavor," I asked, "why not?"
The snap cost him his tail, and was probably his salvation. Without a tail his biteable area was halved. A young trout missed him, and he pulled up amid the lamperns in the shallows. The lamperns were too busily engrossed to notice him. Each was fast anchored by its sucker to a rounded pebble.
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