Anne McCaffrey Pern 03 Dragon Song

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they could count on in this flat marsh area were berries and a few early sour
plums. They took turns clinging to her shoulders and hair then, until the
little brown pulled at her once too often, and she shooed them all off.
She was soon past any familiar terrain and began to proceed more slowly. It
wouldn't do to be bogged down. Midday found her deep in the marshes, gathering
berries for herself, her friends and her basket She'd managed to harvest some
of the aromatic grasses she wanted, but not enough for her purpose. She had
decided to sweep in a wide circle back towards her cliff cave when she heard
distant cries.
The little queen heard them, too, landing on Me-nolly's shoulder and adding
her agitated comments.
Menolly told her to be quiet so she could hear, and to her surprise, the
little queen instantly obeyed. The others subsided, and all seemed to wait
expectantly. Without diversion Menolly recognized the distinctive and frantic
noise of a distressed wherry.
Following the sound, Menolly crossed the slight rise into the next bog valley
and saw the creature, wings flapping, head jerking but its legs and body
firmly captured by treacherous sinking sands.
Oblivious to the excitement of the fire lizards who recognized the wherry as
an enemy, Menolly ran forward, drawing her knife. The bird had been eating
berries from the bushes edging the boggy sands and
Stupidly stepped into the mire. Menolly approached the sands cautiously,
making certain that she was stepping on firm land. She got close enough--the
frightened bird not even aware of her proximity--and plunged her knife into
its back, at the base of the neck.
One more frightened squawk and the thing was dead, limp wings settling on the
surface and rapidly submerging.
Menolly unbuckled her belt to make a loop of the buckle end. Grabbing the
tough branches of a berry bush, she leaned out just far enough to snap the
loop around the head of the bird. She tightened the loop and slowly began to
pull.
Not only was there wherry meat here to feed herself and the fire lizards, but
the layer of fat under its tough hide would provide her with the best possible
grease for her friends' fragile skins.
Again, to Menollys surprise, the fire lizard queen appeared to understand the
situation. She sank her tiny talons into a wherry wing and pulled the tip out
of the mud. She squeaked shrilly at the others, and before Menolly realized
it, aH of them had seized some tenable part of the wherry and were exerting
their efforts to pull it from the bogsand.
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It took a lot of pulling and shrill fire lizard orders, but they managed to
get the wherry out of the sands and onto firm ground.
The rest of her day was spent in sawing through the tough outer hide to
disembowel and dress the carcass. The fire lizards made an enthusiastic meal
of the en-trafls and the blood that flowed from the wherry's neck. The sight
somewhat nauseated Menolly, but she set her jaw and tried to ignore the
voracity with which her otherwise gentle companions attacked the unexpected
delicacy.
She hoped the taste of hot raw meat wouldn't change
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their temperaments, but she reckoned that dragons didn't become savage from
their diet of live meat so it was fair to assume that the fire lizards
wouldn't. At least, they were well fed for the day.
The wherry had been a good-sized bird, doubtless feeding somewhere in the
lower reaches of Nerat for its fatty layer was juicy. It couldn't be a
northern bird. Menolly skinned it, stopping twice to hone her knife sharp. She
carved the meat from the bones, stuffing it into the hide to carry home. When
she had finished, she had a hefty burden, and the bones were by no means
stripped clean. Too bad she couldn't tell the old queen where they were.
She was rigging a forehead sling of her belt and the leg skin when suddenly
the air was alive with fire lizards. With creels of shrill delight, the old
queen and her bronzes settled on the bones. Menolly lacked hastily away before [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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