While the gorp, coiling too slowly
under the Terran ray, was literally hewn to pieces by the revengeful
knives of the hunter's kin.
The fight broke into a series of individual duels carried on now by the
light of the torches as the evening closed in. The last of the purple
patches had burned away to nothing. Dane crouched by his standard torch,
his eyes fastened on the sea, watching for an ominous vee of ripples
betraying another gorp on its way to launch against the rock barrier.
There was such wild confusion along that line of water sprayed rocks
that he had no idea of how the engagement was going. But so far the
gorp showed no signs of having had enough.
Dane was shaken out of his absorption by another scream. One, he was
sure, which had not come from any Salariki throat. He got to his
feet. Rip was stationed four men beyond him. Yes, the tall
Astrogator-apprentice was there, outlined against torch flare. Ali?
No--there was the assistant Engineer. Weeks? But Weeks was picking his
way back along the reef toward the shore, haste expressed in every line
of his figure.
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