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Updated: June 22, 2025
But what had happened? Thorvald had hurled him back just after that shadow had swung over the ledge. That shadow! Shann's wits quickened as he tried to make sense of what he could remember. A Throg ship! Then that fiery lash which had cut after them could only have resulted from one of those energy bolts such as had wiped out the others of his kind at the camp. But he was still alive !
He thrust a double handful of this hasty harvest into Shann's hold with a single curt order: "Twist these together and make as thick a rope as you can!"
But at the thought of more eggs, Shann's stomach knotted in pain and he began to retch. There had been no sign of Thorvald since Shann had watched him steer between the two westward islands. And the younger Terran's faint hope that the officer would return had died. On the shore a few feet away lay his own pitiful attempt to solve the problem of escape.
The length of time between Shann's sighting of the grounded ship and the attack by the Throgs had been so short that he had not really developed any strong hope of rescue to be destroyed by the end of the crippled ship. On the other hand, seeing the Throgs take a beating had exploded his subconscious acceptance of their superiority.
But more than one thudded home in a satisfactory fashion against the curving back carapace or the softer front parts of a Throg in a manner which certainly shook up and bruised the target. And one of Shann's victims went to the ground, to lie kicking in a way which suggested he had been more than just bruised. Fireballs, spears.... Thorvald had moved too.
Shann's attention was caught by a piece of the drift. He twisted the length free and had his first weapon of his own manufacture, a club. Using it to hold back a low sweeping branch, he followed the wolverines. Within the half hour he had breakfast, too. A pair of limp skitterers, their long hind feet lashed together with a thong of grass, hung from his belt.
"Nothing...." Thorvald paused, and then spoke slowly, with a visible reluctance. "Nothing else? No cavern with a green veil a wide green veil strung across it?" Shann shook his head. "Just the skull mountain." Thorvald looked as if he didn't quite believe that, but Shann's expression must have been convincing, for he laughed shortly.
The Terran readied himself for a sidewise leap, his knife hand raised to rake at those eyes. A brown shape with a V of lighter fur banding its back crossed the far range of Shann's vision. He could not believe what he saw, not even when a snarling animal, slavering with rage, came at a lumbering gallop to stand beside him, a second animal on its heels. Uttering his own battle cry, Taggi attacked.
Then that same slashing energy he had watched quarter the camp snapped from the far plate across the stricken scout. But the Throg was going to make very sure. The second flyer halted, remaining poised long enough to unleash a second bolt dazzling any watching eyes and broadcasting a vibration to make Shann's skin crawl when the last faint ripple reached his lookout post.
Or, if they believe we are natives, they could want a specimen for study." "Wouldn't they just blast down Terrans on sight?" Shann saw the dark blot which was Thorvald's head shake in negation. "They might need a live Terran badly and soon." "Why?" "To operate the camp call beam." Shann's momentary bewilderment vanished.
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