with pain. Then hands reached out to drag him in. Coughing up brackish water, he lay on a spit of gravel until they pulled him to his feet. The rest of the trip to the other valley was a mechanical obeying of orders, of being led. And he did not really rouse until he found himself lying on his back, a pack under his head, while Mic and Rey stripped off his soaked clothing and rubbed him down with a blanket.
Mic scowled. “What’d you do up there—blow a dam?”
“Sprung a trap—I think,” Kana sputtered the words over a cup of hot brew Rey thrust upon him. There was a fire blazing not too far away and the glow of warmth within and without his shivering body was pure luxury.
“So. Well, we have one of the trappers—”
Kana’s eyes followed Mic’s finger. Across the fire squatted a figure neither Llor nor Terran. About four feet tall, the creature was almost completely covered with a thick growth of gray-white hair. About its loins was a brief kilt of supple ttsor fur and it wore a thong necklet from which depended several thumb claws of the same felines. Even more expressionless than the less woolly Llor, the prisoner stared unblinkingly into the fire and paid little or no attention to his surroundings.
“Cos?”
“We think so. We caught him feeding a signal fire up on the cliffs night before last. But so far we haven’t been able to get anything out of him. He doesn’t answer to trade talk, and even Hansu’s Llor can’t bring an answer out of him. We pull him along, he sits when we stop—he won’t eat—”
As he talked Mic opened his pack and pulled out spare clothing while Rey contributed more. Kana gratefully donned the donations, watching his own clothes steam before the fire.
“Good thing our warning reached you in time—”
Mic did not quite meet his eyes. “The flood caught five of the men—a cart got hung up on a rock and they were working to free it. Then we lost three crossing the first river and a couple when the fur faces jumped us later—”
“The Llor followed you?”
“Part way. They faded out when we reached the bone valley. I suppose that gave them an idea of what they could expect. Anyway they chased us in and there’s no going c
Mic scowled. “What’d you do up there—blow a dam?”
“Sprung a trap—I think,” Kana sputtered the words over a cup of hot brew Rey thrust upon him. There was a fire blazing not too far away and the glow of warmth within and without his shivering body was pure luxury.
“So. Well, we have one of the trappers—”
Kana’s eyes followed Mic’s finger. Across the fire squatted a figure neither Llor nor Terran. About four feet tall, the creature was almost completely covered with a thick growth of gray-white hair. About its loins was a brief kilt of supple ttsor fur and it wore a thong necklet from which depended several thumb claws of the same felines. Even more expressionless than the less woolly Llor, the prisoner stared unblinkingly into the fire and paid little or no attention to his surroundings.
“Cos?”
“We think so. We caught him feeding a signal fire up on the cliffs night before last. But so far we haven’t been able to get anything out of him. He doesn’t answer to trade talk, and even Hansu’s Llor can’t bring an answer out of him. We pull him along, he sits when we stop—he won’t eat—”
As he talked Mic opened his pack and pulled out spare clothing while Rey contributed more. Kana gratefully donned the donations, watching his own clothes steam before the fire.
“Good thing our warning reached you in time—”
Mic did not quite meet his eyes. “The flood caught five of the men—a cart got hung up on a rock and they were working to free it. Then we lost three crossing the first river and a couple when the fur faces jumped us later—”
“The Llor followed you?”
“Part way. They faded out when we reached the bone valley. I suppose that gave them an idea of what they could expect. Anyway they chased us in and there’s no going c