Star Wars - 077 - The Approaching Storm by Alan Dean Foster

Author:Alan Dean Foster [Foster, Alan Dean]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, General, Science Fiction, Space Opera, Adventure, High Tech, Life on Other Planets, Star Wars Fiction
ISBN: 9780345442994
Google: 23hWtvHoR6QC
Amazon: 0345442997
Publisher: LucasBooks
Published: 2002-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

The chawix outbreak did not last long. Only long enough for a snack, a quick drink, and a brief rest, following which the travelers prepared for departure. It was when she was preparing to climb back onto the saddle of her mount that Barriss noticed the creature digging through the supply pack that was tied across the suubatar’s second back. Momentarily startled by the unexpected sight, she froze. It looked very much like any other Ansionian. The bright, convex eyes, the bipedal build, and the long nimble fingers and toes were identical. But instead of a narrow mane that ran from the top of the head down the spine to terminate in a short tail, this intruder was completely covered in short, dense, dark brown and beige fur striped with dull yellow markings. Instead of a twitchy stub, its weaving tail was as long as her arm.

Most striking of all, it barely came up to her waist.

“Hey, stop that!” she yelled in all-purpose Ansionian.

Both arms laden with a trio of flexi-wrapped foodpaks, the startled intruder looked up in response to her sudden shout. Emitting a defiant squeal, it turned and leapt off the back of the indifferent suubatar. Unhesitatingly, she raced around her mount’s front end. If the creature stayed where it was, it would be trapped against the rear of the overhang. If she failed to intercept it and it ran outside, it would be highly visible and therefore easy to track down on the slopes that bordered the gully. As she rounded her mount’s head, it lifted its snout to sniff lazily at her, then closed its eyes and resumed its resting posture. She expected to see the prowler huddled against the back wall, or racing for the gulch beyond. What she saw instead was a pair of legs vanishing beneath a protruding shelf of rock near the rear of the overhang.

A quick backward glance showed her companions chatting or preparing for departure. If the little thief thought he could hide in a hole, he was very much mistaken. She was not so easily deceived. Dropping to her knees, she went in after it. If she could get a hand on one of those small feet, she was sure she could drag the intruder back out.

Unexpectedly, the hole opened into a fissure that ran back into the hill. Light filtered down from above. At that point she hesitated. Cornering the thief in a dead-end recess was one thing; chasing it down a slot canyon of unknown extent quite another. But—they needed every bit of their supplies. And every second she lingered put more distance between herself and the thief.

Determined not to let the prowler get away, she rose to her feet and raced after it. If the rocky cleft branched off into multiple passages, she would have to terminate the chase and return, defeated, to her companions. On the other hand, if it dead-ended somewhere not far ahead, she would have the furry bandit cornered.

Though clearly cut by running water, the crevice cooperated by not splitting into different branches.

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