of bare
rock.

The wolverines had killed a brace of skitterers, consuming hide and soft
bones as well as the meager flesh which was not enough to satisfy their
hunger. However, to Shann's relief, they did not wander too far ahead.
And as the men stopped at last on a ledge where a fall of rock gave them
some limited shelter both animals crowded in against the humans, adding
the heat of their bodies to the slight comfort of that cramped resting
place.

From time to time Shann was startled out of a troubled half sleep by the
howl of the hound. Luckily that sound never seemed any louder. If the
Throgs had caught up with their hunter, and certainly they must have
done so by now, they either could not, or would not free it from the
trap. Shann dozed again, untroubled by any dreams, to awake hearing the
shrieks of clak-claks. But when he studied the sky he was able to sight
none of the cliff-dwelling Warlockian bats.

"More likely they are paying attention to our friend back in the
valley," Thorvald said dryly, rightly reading Shann's glance to the
clouds overhead. "Ought to keep them busy."

Clak-claks were meat eaters, only they preferred their chosen prey weak
and easy to attack. The imprisoned hound would certainly attract their
kind. And those shrill cries now belling through the mountain heights
ought to draw everyone of their species within miles.

"There it is!" Thorvald, pulling himself to his feet by a rock handhold,
gazed westward, his gaunt face eager.

Shann, expecting no less than a cruising Throg ship, searched for cover
on their perch. Perhaps if they flattened themselves behind the fall of
stones, they might be able to escape attention. Yet Thorvald made no
move into hiding. And so Shann followed the line of the other's fixed
stare.

Before and below them lay a maze of heights and valleys, sharp drops,
and saw-toothed rises. But on the far rim of that section of badlands
shone the green of a Warlockian sea rippling on to the only dimly seen
horizon. They were now within sight of their goal.

Had they had one of the exploration sky-flitters from the overrun camp,
they could have walked its beach sands within the hour. Instead, they
fought their way through a Devil-designed country for the next two days.
Twice they had narrow escapes from the Throg ship--or ships--which
continued to sweep across the rugged line of the coast, and only a quick
dive to cover, wasting precious time cowering like trapped a