The Approaching Storm (Star Wars) by ALAN DEAN FOSTER

Author:ALAN DEAN FOSTER [Foster, Alan Dean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Science Fiction, Science Fiction - Adventure, Fiction - Science Fiction, High Tech, Adventure, Space opera, Life on other planets, Star wars fiction, Science Fiction - Star Wars
ISBN: 9780345442994
Publisher: Del Rey
Published: 2003-01-01T01:57:18.701000+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. Agile

though he was, the intruder was slowed by his ill-gotten burden. He never managed to slip entirely out of

her sight.

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