85 Tooth and Claw by Doranna Durgin

Author:Doranna Durgin [Durgin, Doranna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Fiction, Science Fiction, Space Opera, Adventure
ISBN: 9780743419499
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2001-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

night in the fandrean jungle.

Deep in the tangle of night-blacked foliage, slick fur slid between thickly leafed branches, making no more than a whisper of sound beneath the clamor of myriad insects crying out for the company of their own kind.

A shriek ripped through the chorus, startling it to silence.

Bones crunched.

Tsoran bones.

Here be monsters.

Riker quickly lost track of time; he lost track of the fact that time had any meaning at all. The scavengers came after them in rounds of overlapping activity, always making sure someone in the camp had reason to be shouting, alarmed, scrabbling for a defensive position or screaming. After the first major attack, Riker

built a second fire on the other side of the cave entrance, hoping to create a more secure area in between the two, at the mouth of the cave. For a while it worked--until the beasts lost their initial respect for the flames, and learned to shoulder the humanoids away from the clear spots and into the fires--or nearly into the fires. Singed Tsoran fur, singed sculper fur, singed Starfleet uniform

The bat'leth threw swooping firelight around the cleared zone, whirling with Riker's fierce attacks, his twisting retreats; the club hit the ground early on, wrested from his grip by sculper jaws and then discarded. Around him, the Tsorans wielded their lances and clubs and trank guns, but the sculpers were too quick for the short-range tranks and only momentarily deterred by the hastily made weapons.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, the sculpers took a break--time for a little nap, Riker thought, a break in the entertainment. For that's what this was--entertainment. Nothing about the sculpers, not their lolling tongues or their exuberant body language, led him to think that he and the Tsorans provided anything but amusement, and the moment the scavengers tired of the game, they'd barge past all defenses and take who they wanted.

Or eat them on the spot.

"If we can at least stun one of them," Akarr said to Rakal, possibly unaware that Riker stood on the other side of the currently blazing second fire, feeding in another batch of now-dry logs, "I can take trophy. Trophy from the very animals attacking me!"

"Nothing Takarr does will be enough to elevate him beyond that in our people's eyes," Rakal agreed.

Takarr again. Who was Takarr?

Rakal added, "But I worry about Ketan, ReynTa. He

was honorably injured. Even putting him in the cave with Gavare doesn't seem likely to protect him from these sculpers if they quit playing with us and determine to take food."

No doubt about that; the injured men needed protection.

Riker rounded the fire to join them uninvited, offering them glare for glare--a greeting he'd received so often he now responded in appropriate Tsoran body language without thinking about it. "We should pull in, and not attempt to protect anything but the cave mouth." Not that it was much of a cave, but every little advantage ... "If we do that, they can come upon us several at a time, and take us all down," Rakal said, pouching his lower lip in disapproval.

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