Fall of the White Ship Avatar (FF3) by Brian Daley

Author:Brian Daley
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science fiction, Fantasy
Publisher: Grafton
Published: 1990-03-28T13:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12—AT THE RISK OF SOUNDING FOOLISH

"Listen, Fitzhugh, I'll only tell you this one more time: it's not worth the effort," Paloma said yet again. "The exertion of building deadfall traps will use up more calories than we'll get out of them. The bigger life forms are especially wary."

"Not if we build barriers along the game runways, twiff brain! We could nail one of those leaf-eaters that looks like a boilerplate badger, or even catch ourselves a scare-flare. Unless you're becoming fond of larvae pudding."

Paloma Sudan made an exasperated noise. "We're eating well enough. But I thought your first order of business was making every possible preparation for the Long Trek?"

"It is, it is," he grumbled. "But I am getting a little sick of roots, grub stew, roasted nuts, and the occasional side order of ringwing or snakefish!" He rubbed his shrunken middle, which, given his height, nearly touched his backbone. Paloma didn't look much better. All three humans had lost weight and acquired real and dangerous medical problems out beyond civilization in the Lebensraum wilds.

"Well, graylock, if you're not happy with what we're getting from the hanging snares and figure-fours, you're free to dig yourself a pitfall big enough to catch a gawk for all I care. Only don't whine to me when the Long Trek's postponed!"

"Lay off, lay off," he chanted. "So now you know how to win any argument. I surrender. But where's Pokesnout? I thought he was gonna be here with the rest of his advance party."

The first major obstacle to the Long Trek was a narrow stretch of high desert that lay a day's gawk-march along their route. The Verities and the Shadow Verities referred to something there that translated as "scuttle-death." Alacrity had convinced all parties that a reconnaissance was in order, and Pokesnout was doing his best to bring one together.

To his credit and the credit of the gawklegs' intelligence, the little nonbreeding male was maintaining his leadership—more by his special knowledge of Verities and Shadow Verities and innovative thinking than by his combat victory. At another time he'd have been killed or made outcast at the very least for it. But in time of danger to the herd, necessity took priority over custom.

"Hobie went to find him," Paloma said. "It's surprising how your sidekick's warmed up to the gawks; it takes him a while to get around that Earth upbringing, doesn't it?"

"Yup. He didn't exactly hit if off with me at first either, but—" He reached out and took her hand in his. She didn't fight it. "I have this winning personality … "

For a second he thought she was finally going to let him kiss her, but then she drew back, turning her head aside, dropping her eyes. Alacrity threw down her hand in mock disgust.

"Hey, Hot 'n Cold! Lemme know when you make up your mind!"

Paloma laughed and struck another of her model poses. Even in the wilds she could be a beguiling, high-style performer. Her hair was drawn back

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