The solitary figure winced as the chill wind whipped about his unprotected arms and legs, and reflected that perhaps it had not been such a good idea to follow his shadow, after all.

For two months Tarak had been pursuing its silent, taunting shape, and it had led him into increasingly inhospitable territory. Many were the hardships he had endured during his long captivity in the arena, and he was inured to conditions which a normal man would find intolerable.

He had not until recently ever encountered extreme cold, however, and he was distinctly annoyed with the experience.

The path he traveled had sloped up very gradually from the moment he had undertaken this journey, and more than once he had wondered if perhaps he should retrace his steps, and attempt to find a more hospitable path. His sense of adventure had spurred him on, however, and he had continually hoped that each summit would be the last; that finally he would look down upon the great forests of Aantor which Amena had so wistfully described.

More recently he had been forced to admit that his initial choice of direction had probably been erroneous, for by now he should have encountered some evidence of the lower, warmer lands.

Still he pressed onward, never altering his direction. Wherever this path might take him, at least he was following a direct route, which he could easily retrace if necessary.

The majesty of the dark mountains also moved him. His indomitable spirit thrilled at their grandeur, and his adventurous nature goaded him forward.

Perhaps this was not the forest which Amena had so often described to him, but it was nevertheless new and spacious land, and he meant to discover its extent, and its potential.

Still, he had to admit to himself that it did not appear to offer a great deal in the way of any realizable potential.

As he had traveled up into the mountains, the vegetation had become increasingly scarce, and animal life scarcer still. The temperature had steadily dropped, and eventually he had been forced to cover his body with protection to retain warmth against the chill mountain air, so he had slain a nir with the bow, and now his frame was draped with the beast's thick hide.

A large, four-legged herbivore, the nir was common only in the desolate mountains through which Tarak now walked. Hardy and swift, the nir could survive easily upon food which most other animals would not even recognize as food, and was particularly adapted to its environment.

The male of the species stood five feet at the shoulder, from which a shaggy neck dropped to near ground level.

Powerful, bony jaws were used to scrape the meager vegetation which clung to the cold, wind-swept landscape, an abundance of food only for such a creature as the nir. Long-legged and graceful, the nir could move rapidly along the rocky terrain, and was beautiful to watch as it leaped from rock to rock.

A single horn protruded from its shaggy head, tapering to a point nearly two feet from the beast's head, but this weapon was rarely needed, for in the mountains the nir had few natural enemies, and its speed enabled it to escape nearly all which it encountered.

Only the tarab and the great black dyrrn preyed upon the nir with successful regularity.

The most frequent use of the nir's horn appeared in mating battles with others of its kind, for the nir was generally a solitary creature. Its hostile environment would not support great numbers, and normally only a small number occupied a given area, driving encroaching nir away whenever the need arose.

Often a single animal, usually a prime buck, but past the age of mating, would command a vast area, roving through his domain, powerful and formidable, ready to challenge any who might dispute his reign. Eventually its territory would change hands, through battle, or because of death by predation, and boundaries shifted constantly, yet at any instant of time each nir knew the boundaries of its territory, and vigilantly defended these boundaries.

The creatures had apparently never encountered man, for Tarak found them relatively easy to approach and kill.

Certain of their speed and power, they would challenge him warily as he approached, and he slew them easily with the great bow.

He was grateful for their presence, for without them he doubted if he could have survived his journey. From the nir he obtained food and a warm covering for his body, for the beast's shaggy hide provided considerable insulation against the cold.

Tarak had no experience in the curing of animal hides, so that the garment he wore was stiff and uncomfortable, with the shaggy side against his body, and the bloody side exposed to the air.

The freezing temperatures prevented the garment from becoming unbearable through decay, however, and, frozen, the hide did not decompose, although it was extremely heavy.

Tarak had little knowledge of garments, and would have been amused to learn that the hide of the nir was prized throughout Aantor for its rarity and its warmth. To him it was simply protection, draped over his shoulders and reaching below his knees, with two smaller sections wrapped about his feet.

Although he had never been allowed to use fire during his years of captivity, he was knowledgeable as to its uses, for he had seen by torchlight, and Amena had explained the importance of fire to civilized man.

The wrok's pouch had contained rocks which when struck together produced a spark, and after a great deal of trial and error Tarak had learned to coax a fire from bits of dry vegetation and dead branches from trees which clung precariously to life in this high country.

He had scorned fire while in the valley, for he preferred his meat fresh and uncooked, and feared that the flames and smoke would betray his presence to his enemies.

As he ascended into the mountains, however, he began to appreciate the importance of this essential tool of civilized man. The heat kept him from freezing as he slept, and in addition permitted the thawing of meat which had frozen from his kills.

As he climbed higher, he carried meat with him, for even the nir began to grow scarce at these altitudes. He also felt it was preferable to carry the meat, which would remain fresh in its frozen state, than to kill more often than was necessary, for he admired the wild nir, as he admired nearly all wild creatures.

Trees were stunted and twisted in the mountains, and grew infrequently, but he found them invariably at some point in his daily journeys. When he located a tree any time after the sun had reached its zenith he would make camp nearby, for he could never be certain that he would find another that day, and he had discovered that the trees and the wood they offered were essential to survival in the freezing mountains.

Occasionally he would come upon the shattered remains of an animal, usually a nir, its bones broken and splintered, and its carcass devoid of flesh. From the condition of the bodies it was obvious that the predator which had killed the nir was one of tremendous size and power.

Tarak surmised that the predator in most such instances had probably been the tarab, a carnivore rarely seen outside of the desolate mountains, and one of the most terrible of all carnivores.

He had read about the creatures from books stolen by Amena from Gonor's library, although he had never seen one. A feline creature, the tarab was endowed with four pairs of legs. three of these were shod with thick pads, from which retractable claws protruded, and were used to carry the beast with swift sureness over the icy mountain terrain which was its domain. The fourth pair of legs was thicker and more powerful, protruding from the beasts forward shoulders, and culminating in paws studded with long, grasping claws. Equipped with a shoulder joint which permitted three hundred and sixty degree movement, these legs could be used either to help support and mobilize the creature, or as was more often the case, could be brought forward and utilized as terribly savage weapons of death and destruction.

When the tarab ran, the claws retracted into toughened pads, protected in their sheaths. In battle the claws, extended, were savagely destructive. A tarab could kill instantly even a very large animal with one slash of its forelegs, while at the same time maintaining perfect balance upon its remaining three pairs of legs.

Its large, powerful head rested upon a thick, supple neck. Long fangs equipped the wide, powerful jaws of the carnivore, while yellow-green eyes gleamed in the night as it hunted for prey.

Often an adult tarab reached a length of twenty-five feet and would stand seven feet high at the shoulder; a huge, incredibly swift and savage carnivore, one without peer in its environment, and with few peers upon all Aantor.

Normally found only in the high mountains, occasionally a tarab would wander down into the regions inhabited by men, and most of the information relating to these fierce creatures had been collected from specimens killed in the low countries. The great beasts rarely left their natural haunts, however, for normally the nir and other mountain herbivores were sufficiently numerous to support their cavernous appetites, and the thick coat of fur which protected the tarabs from the cold made life in a warmer climate unbearable to the creatures.

Pure white, the tarab's fur was often invisible against the snowy landscape, and the beasts often moved unseen, despite their great size. The lush fur was so thick, and so rare, that it often lined the dais of Tarkans.

Tarak knew he would have no chance of survival should he encounter one of the great beasts, but he shrugged away the possibility as one of little consequence. If he met with a tarab, he would flee. If he could not evade the creature, he would fight, as he had always done. Thinking about the possibility mattered little, and neither increased nor decreased his chances of meeting one of the savage creatures, so he dismissed the possibility from his mind.

He had long been moving upward along a gentle slope, which seemed to go in interminably, but which lately had steepened, and he felt certain that he was approaching its summit, although in the misty, blowing snow he could not see more than a few hundred feet ahead.

A sudden shift in the wind brought snow directly into his face, and as he shut his eyes against the force of the wind the sounds of savage battle reached his ears from somewhere ahead.

Screaming and roaring sounds such as he had never imagined assailed his senses, and after listening for a moment to satisfy himself that the sounds were not approaching, he broke into a trot and quietly moved forward toward the sounds of the ongoing battle.

Ahead was the summit of the long slope he had been climbing for so long, and as he neared its edge he slowed, flattening himself against the ground. Cautiously he crawled forward, and slowly raising his head, peered over the edge.

The mountain dropped away sharply on the other side of the summit, and after a sharp descent of perhaps two hundred feet it flattened out for an equal distance, then rose again abruptly to a height of a hundred feet, to a second summit, beyond which he could not see.

The second summit he noticed only in passing, however, for his attention was instantly riveted upon the small level area, for in that confined space a tarab and a great black dyrrn were locked in mortal combat.

The huge circular mound of branches indicated that the dyrrn had chosen this lonely spot to nest.

By sheer chance the tarab had found the nest.

It was apparent that either young dyrrn or eggs were sequestered within; for a dryrrn, even a black dyrrn, would rarely battle a tarab unless in defense of its young.

Tarak was transfixed by the battle. He had only read of such creatures, and was awed by the magnificent fury of each.

The tarab, white and terrible, was well over twenty feet in length, and was rearing back upon its rear two pairs of legs, reaching up with the powerful forelegs in an attempt to slash at its foe, while the forward pair of legs hung in the air.

The great dyrrn hovered just above the tarab's reach, its immense black wings extended to their full length, more than forty-five feet, its talons poised and ready to strike should the tarab relax its guard. For all its size, the dyrrn was no match for the tarab, whose own claws were equal to those of the dyrrn, and whose fangs and overall strength were unmatched by the winged creature.

To the side of the nest lay the carcass of another dyrrn, obviously the mate of the one which hovered above the tarab.

That dyrrn had apparently closed with the white killer, and had died in the encounter.

The tarab was bleeding profusely in several places as a result of the battle, but had no apparent mortal wounds.

The sheer size and ferocity of these wild creatures was magnificent, and Tarak knew that he was witnessing a battle such that few if any men had ever seen before.

He marveled at the power of the combatants, as they feinted and darted, each trying to goad the other into a fatal mistake.

The screeching of the dyrrn mingled with the throaty roar of the tarab, drowning out even the whistling wind in its volume.

Tarak knew that the prudent move would be to absent himself from the vicinity immediately, for either of the beasts would undoubtedly kill him quickly if he was discovered after one was victorious in the present battle, but he could not bring himself to leave this spectacle, whatever the danger. It was too magnificent.

The tarab had apparently discovered the nest, and, seeking an easy feast, had sought to climb into the its protective embrace, to devour the eggs or hatchlings within. Discovered by one of the returning dyrrn, the tarab's true instincts had surfaced, for it had stayed to fight.

A supreme hunter, the tarab might easily have slunk away to hunt its favorite prey, the nir.

Yet faced with the savage fury of another great mountain carnivore, the tarab had stubbornly refused to retreat, determined in its desire to reach the nest.

Now one of the great birds was slain, and the tarab wounded in several places, but the its desire to reach the nest remained undiminished.

The remaining dyrrn, however, would allow no such action. Its lifelong mate had been destroyed, and as a killer itself it sought to punish the white killer of its mate, and also to protect its young from any future threat from the tarab. The dyrrn sensed that if it did not kill the tarab now, its offspring would eventually be lost to the white beast.

Had the tarab been wiser, it would have departed, for although the dyrrn would have followed, searching for an opening, the bird would have eventually have given up the task of trying to kill the tarab, and would have returned to its nest. The tarab could have returned later, when the dyrrn was hunting, and devoured the contents of the nest and the carcass of the other dyrrn at its leisure.

Wounded severely by the attack of the first dyrrn, however, and stirred to a savage frenzy by pain and blood-lust, the tarab was now maddened with fury and the smell of blood. Unaccustomed to any challenge within its broad realm, it was now faced with an attack from a formidable antagonist, itself wild with killing lust. The tarab would not leave until this enemy had been vanquished, and all other life upon the summit stilled.

Slashing and clawing at the hovering dyrrn, the tarab continually attempted to back up and over the high sides of the nest, for it knew that if it succeeded in reaching the interior of the nest the dyrrn would attack immediately, bringing itself within the grasp of the tarab's claws and fangs, striking with its sharp beak and long talons in one desperate attempt to kill the invader.

Tarak's initial thought was that the beast might succeed in its objective, but it soon became apparent that the nest was too high for the tarab to enter in this manner.

Again and again the tarab tried to back its way up the sides of the nest, while slashing up at the dyrrn, but each time it failed, as the dyrrn swooped down, screeching, ripping with its talons, and causing the tarab to respond with defensive slashes.

It appeared the tarab might relinquish its efforts and retreat, but its patience had exhausted, and in a sudden blur of motion it crouched and leaped high in the air, reaching for the dyrrn.

As the black bird wheeled back the tarab dropped to the ground, whirled, and leaped for the nest.

The tarab's movement was incredibly fast for so large a creature, but scarcely had its paws reached the top of the nest when the ripping talons of the black dyrrn buried in the tarab's back.

The hovering creature had been waiting for just this opportunity, and the speed with which it had recovered, and, wings folded, dropped upon the leaping tarab was astounding.

The shock of its lunge drove the body of the tarab against the crest of the protective structure, where, screaming with pain and rage, the tarab twisted and squirmed, attempting to break the stranglehold which the dyrrn's talons had accomplished, fastened deep within its back and neck.

Unable to dislodge the terrible ripping talons, the tarab's weight did force both antagonists to the ground, and there, clawing and biting, the powerful tarab sought to reach its foe. Rolling over the rocky, snow-swept ground the two beasts tore at each other, the wings of the dyrrn shredding from the terrible slashes of the tarab, while its beak responded with hammering thrusts, pounding at the tarab's head and neck, and ripping great bloody gashes in the white fur.

The dyrrn delivered massive punishment to its enemy, but still the tarab fought, blood streaming from its body in red rivers.

It's huge back and neck muscles suddenly seemed to partially tear away from the talons, and as the tarab's rear legs ceased moving it was able to turn its upper body to face the black monster. Finally it was able to slash at the bird's head, and to bring the creature's neck within reach of its massive jaws.

Mortally wounded, the tarab at last fastened upon the dyrnn's neck, and crushed the neck bones of the feathered giant with one terrible effort.

Instantly the struggles of the dyrrn ceased, and its screams died away with the wind, but its talons were yet imbedded in the back of the bloody tarab, and in death would remain locked in its body. The tarab tried vainly to reach the talons, to bite at them, and to shake them free, but it too was weakening rapidly.

Blood flowing freely from the great once-white fur, the tarab lay beneath the weight of the black dyrrn, which even in death clung to the white carnivore, its broken wings trailing away across the ground.

Near death, the tarab lay on its side, breathing laboriously, steam from its breath mixing with that which rose from its wounds. The tarab make one final effort to free itself, piercing the sky with its shriek, then quivered violently, and was dead.

Silence once more reigned beneath the howl of the wind.

Tarak lay for long moments watching the scene below.

Three gigantic carnivores, each a killer almost without peer, had battled to a savage end upon the small plateau, and each now lay in a posture of agonizing death.

The space between and around the fallen beasts was littered with blood, fur, and feathers, but the wind had swept away the unforgettable, terrible sounds of battle.

Tarak knew he would never forget this scene, the sounds, the sights nor the majesty of the great beasts who had battled to the death in this lonely place.

Silently he rose to his feet and cautiously made his way slowly down to the plateau. Skirting the bodies, he approached the nest slowly, for he did not want to blunder into a nest full of such creatures as the savage dyrrn, no matter how small.

Carefully he climbed the side of the nest, slowly raising his head over its edge to peer inside.

Three eggs lay there, large and almost black in color. None of the brood had hatched, and now without the constant warmth provided by the parent dyrrn the eggs would freeze, and the life within would perish.

Tarak looked down upon the eggs with relish, for a single egg would provide more than one hearty meal, and a delicious change in his diet.

A single egg of the clutch, nearly two feet in diameter, would provide more food than he could eat, and the nest contained abundant wood with which he could build a roaring fire.

Although it was still early, Tarak decided to camp for the night in this spot, for in addition to its resources, the site was fresh with memories, and provided as company the carcasses of the creatures which had battled so magnificently.

They were awesome predators even in death, and had begun to freeze in the respective positions in which each died. Tarak thought it possible that they would spend an eternity as frozen testimony to the battle which was fought this day, an everlasting monument to the awesome ferocity of their respective species.

He felt honored by their presence; fellow predators, creatures of marvelous cunning, strength, and bravery.

Before preparing dinner he decided to climb the opposite slope, for it was not high, and he was interested in learning what new terrain awaited him on his next day's march. He hoped for some variation, some break in the monotony of his steady upward trek, although he anticipated discovering that the ridge hid merely another ridge, rising in the distance.

Leaving the nest, he crossed to the steep slope and climbed quickly to its crest, where he raised his head above the summit and looked out.

His eyes widened immediately in surprise and wonder, for just ahead was a sight which fired his blood.

Beyond the summit the ground descended for miles, steeply at first, then gradually descending at an increasingly gentle slope, until it leveled out far below. In the far distance he thought he could discern mountains, but below, and to the left and right for many miles, the frozen heights crumbled away into the vivid greens and blues of the huge valley which lay far below.

The valley was gigantic, stretching almost as far as he could see to the west, and nearly as far to the north and south.

He was perched upon the eastern rim, nearer, it appeared, the north side than the south.

The floor of the valley was at least three miles below the ridge upon which he stood, and it was apparent from the myriad colors, and the lakes and rivers which were visible, that the climate was humid and tropical.

Green and lush, the valley was an oasis to a man who had traveled so long through the freezing mountains.

Tarak noted many visible lakes, as well as the rivers which fed and emptied them, and forests of varied and gigantic trees which dominated much of the land area, interspersed with fields of grass and flowers.

He could almost feel the warmth of the valley coursing through his chilled veins, and his face creased in a broad grin as he surveyed this remote paradise.

Descending back to the plateau with a new spring to his step, he carefully sliced a large steak from the tarab's carcass, not wanting to mar the beauty of the savage carnivore more than was necessary.

Strapping the quickly freezing meat to his back, he climbed into the nest, and gingerly wrapped one of the eggs in his nir cloak, fastening it next to the tarab steak. The weight of this burden was staggering, but he felt he would be able to bear it for some time, since he would be descending, and the mouth-watering anticipation of his forthcoming meal would lend new strength to his tired thews.

His discovery of the valley had terminated his plans to spend the night near the nest. Renewed in spirit by the beauty of the green valley, he was determined to descend as far as possible this day into its warmth, and away from the swirling wind and chilling cold which had assailed him for the past two months.

He left the nest intact, for he had spied trees far up the sides of the valley, and was confident he would be able to descend far enough that evening so that he would be able to find an abundant supply of wood.

Slowly he descended, for the slope was steep at first, and the weight of his burdens seemed to constantly interfere with his balance. He knew that descents were far more dangerous than ascents, although much less arduous, and he picked his way down the steep slope with as much speed as was reasonably safe.

By nightfall he was exhausted, a condition he rarely experienced. He had descended to the upper limits of the treeline, however, and had located a shallow cave in the escarpment, scarcely more than a recess, but with a horizontal floor and space large enough to provide adequate shelter.

The temperature had risen considerably during the latter stages of his descent, but it was still cold in the twilight, so he gathered wood with an intent to indulge in warmth in addition to cooking his food.

Famished, he built a huge fire and seared the half-frozen tarab steak, gorging himself upon the tough, bloody meat, relishing the idea that he was being nourished by so terrible a predator. The tarab was delicious, and savagely he satisfied his hunger, then leaned back contentedly against the dyrnn egg, breaking the tarab's bones to extract the rich marrow within.

His hunger assuaged, he fed the fire, and lay down next to its warmth. Placing the egg between his head and the bright flames, he relaxed his tired, aching body completely, and was instantly asleep.

He awakened abruptly, aroused by an alien sound which seemed to come from within the cave itself. Crouching, fully awake and prepared for battle, he peered over the egg, his legs gathered beneath his body for instant attack or retreat, the long knife of Lukor gripped in his right hand.

The fire had burned low, but he did not look into its flames, for he had learned that the flames would blind him to the dark if he did so, and his eyes darted about the cave entrance, searching for the source of the strange sound.

His every sense searched the night, but the world remained black and still outside his shelter.

Puzzled, he added branches to the flickering embers, and as they began to flare he again heard the strange sound, and realized that it was emanating from the egg.

It was a thumping sound, irregularly spaced, but determined evidence of the living effort within.

Tarak smiled ruefully, for it was apparent that his gargantuan efforts in bringing the heavy egg down from the mountains were in vain. He would not enjoy Dyrnn egg this day, for the egg was about to discharge his meal into the world. He sat and watched with interest, as the egg shook and rocked from the efforts of the creature held captive within, itself fighting for life as it sought to break through the tough, protective layers.

Finally the sound increased in volume, and a small crack appeared near the top of the egg. The crack became a jagged hole, and a wet, sharp beak poked its way through the shell and out into the cool night air.

Fascinated, Tarak watched as his intended dinner widened the hole, then ceased its work as it took its first breaths of air.

Its energy renewed by the oxygen, the occupant took up its task once more. Using a small horn which grew near the tip of its bill, the dyrrn enlarged the hole, breaking away pieces of thick shell, until it could bring its jaws into play. Then it bit off chunks, tearing and biting with its sharp beak until it could begin to force its wet, slippery body into the opening thus created.

Ceaselessly it struggled, until with a final effort the dyrrn thrust open the egg and tumbled onto the floor of the small cave. Working its way erect, it stood unsteadily, balefully glaring at its surroundings. It spied Tarak, stared at him for a few seconds, and with a violent chirp it leaped upon the startled man, nuzzling him with its moist, sticky body, as it sought his protection and warmth.

Completely surprised as the actions of the dyrrn, Tarak was for one of the few times in his life confused as to the proper course of action. He did not know whether to kill the dyrrn, or to flee from it, if only to escape the ooze which covered its body, and threatened to cover his.

Wet and scrawny, the dyrrn did not look particularly appetizing, even if he had been hungry, so he possessed no thoughts of killing the fledgling dyrrn.

He could not bring himself to run from the ungainly creature, either, no matter how unpleasant it felt against his skin, so he merely sat stoically and gazed at the hatchling dyrrn as it rubbed against his body, chirping softly in the warmth and light of the fire.

He remembered the magnificent battle in which its parents had given their lives so that the eggs might have an opportunity to hatch.

Their efforts had been useless because of their deaths, since the cold of the desolate plateau would quickly destroy any life within the thick eggs.

This hatchling was saved by the fortunate occurrence which had resulted from Tarak bringing the egg down away from the cold into relative warmth, and setting the egg near the fire, where the increased heat had aroused the dyrrn to new life.

Tarak shook his head. "You may be a killer, little one," but I shall see that you survive at least this night."

Carefully and with some difficulty he disengaged himself from the dyrrn, and recovered a portion of the tarab meat which he had packed down the slope of the mountain. Replenishing he fire, he sliced small portions of the steak, and fed the hatchling, which accepted the food greedily.

He marveled at the creature's appetite, since it was so newly hatched, so he fed it carefully, for its beak was sharp, and seemingly unconcerned whether it ate tarab or fingers.

Finally the dyrrn would eat no more, and it stumbled forward, lowering its body against his legs, and its head upon his lap, and slept.

He lay down beside the creature, pondering its sudden entry into his solitary life with amusement. Then he turned his thoughts to the long descent he faced in the morning, and remembering the arduous descent of the previous night, carrying the great egg, only to discover that his dinner had instead become another mouth to feed. Smiling, he had no regrets, and was glad that he had helped the offspring such a mighty carnivore as the Black Dyrrn enjoy at least a taste of life.

Gently he covered the hatchling with his cloak to protect it from the chill air, and speculating about his anticipated descent into the valley, he drifted off to sleep.

When he awoke the cave was illuminated by the light of morning, and the dyrrn, dry now from the heat of the fire, was again rubbing against him, its sharp teeth nibbling at his skin. Dry, the beast looked much more acceptable, but its tiny teeth were painful, and Tarak gently pushed the creature away and reached for the remaining tarab steak.

Immediately the dyrrn scrambled back up against him, chirping plaintively, and he laughed at its antics and ungainly appearance.

Feeding it bits of tarab, he patted the dyrrn, and rubbed its downy coat as it ate. As he fed the dyrrn he himself ate, then examined the cave, and, for lack of a better alternative, he wrapped the protesting bird in his nir cloak, tying it firmly closed, with only its head protruding, and fastened the bundle to his back.

He spoke softly, to calm the dyrrn,then gathering his weapons he left the cave and began to descend toward the still distant valley.

The feeling of warmth and abundant life which the valley generated cheered him, and he sang inwardly as he entered the upper reaches of the green land.

A stream meandered downward along his path, fed by the melting snow of the high mountains behind him, and he followed the stream until eventually it cascaded over a waterfall to spill into a clear sunlit lake below. Below and to one side of the waterfall Tarak found a cave, apparently unoccupied and sheltered by an outcropping rock.

The cave was set in an almost vertical section of the cliff face, fifteen feet above the upper reaches of the valley floor, and Tarak knew it would provide an ideal shelter. Searching the nearby area, he located a fallen tree, about eight inches in diameter and exceeding twenty-five feet in length, which he propped against the small ledge which fronted the cave, to be used as a means of access.

Carrying his burden, he nimbly scaled the tree, and seconds later he stood on the small ledge.

The cave was spacious, twenty feet wide by thirty feet deep, and he congratulated himself upon his good fortune in locating such an ideal location so easily. The cave would provide a measure of safety for the young dyrrn while Tarak hunted and explored the valley, and the ledge would be an ideal place to build a fire, should he desire one.

He deposited the dyrrn, his weapons, and the remaining tarab meat on the floor of the cave, and untied the nir hide, whereupon the dyrrn immediately fought its way out from its prison, and stood glaring about with its bright black eyes.

Then, as if resigned to its fate, it chirped loudly and hopped over to the man who watched, amused, and began to nibble at his legs.

Tarak stepped back, pushing the creature away with mock admonition.

"Patience, little killer. I am not to be made a meal of," but he laughed in spite of the severity of his tone, for the dyrrn was a ridiculous sight, and he was somehow touched by the small carnivore, so wild and yet so dependent upon him for survival. Fearing that the dyrrn would plummet from the edge of the small ledge, he wrapped it again in the hide, and leaving to the sound of its crying chirps, he picked up his weapons and left the cave to find food.