[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

occasional hunt for small edibles in the grass, it was clear he was having the
time of his life.
We found the clearing Lalique and Jibril had cut in the canebrake and eased
our way carefully into it. Mabob hung around long enough to make sure we were
being careful, then wandered away to do some exploring of his own. Just as
well. I wanted to watch the behavior of the animals in the brake, and having a
predator the size of
Mabob around would surely have given me a skewed view.
We spread a blanket (no need to sacrifice all of our comfort) and settled down
to wait and watch. With Leo, waiting and watching is not just an art, it s a
full pleasure.
So hardship didn t come into the job anywhere, except maybe for the lumps that
were etching themselves into my butt.
If I d correctly identified the cane I d been looking at the day before, then
the absorption process was spectacularly fast the Earth-authentic bug had
vanished but for a bit of wing tip.
Page 116
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
First thing I learned, watching the wind whip the leaves around, was that the
leaves didn t stick to the canes. A light rain made it equally clear that the
glue wasn t water-solvent. Should ve known that. If it had been, Lalique would
have washed the calf down to free it. Still, if the leaves didn t stick, then
might be we could make a solvent out of them
.
Leo tapped my arm and pointed further into the brake. A fuzzwilly was building
a nest first time I d ever seen one build on the ground. Fuzzwillies are
strange even by Mirabilan standards. They re ninety percent fluff and,
ordinarily, they  hatch
their eggs by rolling them out of the nest to drop them on the ground and
break them open. If you saw the thickness of the shells, you d understand why.
No way the baby fuzzwilly could make it through that shell on its own. Still,
they lose a lot of young every year in the process. Looked like the
fuzzwillies were headed up an evolutionary dead end.
But there was one of them building her nest on the ground. Damn straight I was
interested!
I was even more interested when the fuzzwilly brushed against one of the
canes, got pulled up short, gave a little shiver that made it look like a
dandelion head about to blow away and then walked away
, leaving only a long silky tuft of hair stuck to the cane.
Hair s protein too mine and the fuzzwilly s. The cane could probably absorb
nutrients just as well from the fuzzwilly s hair as from the insects it
caught. Even
Mabob s scale
 Yike! I said, startling the fuzzwilly back into the canebrake.  Up, Leo! Get
up!
Out, out!
We scurried out. I checked the grass, then sat and patted a bit beside me for
Leo to share.
 What did I miss, Annie?
 Same thing I missed. I turned the blanket over. The underside looked like
clothes moths had been at it. Sure enough, the lumps I d been sitting on had
been etching their way into my butt.
I made a rude gesture to indicate the canes.  I bet that s not a stand of
canes. I
bet that s all one cane like Earth-authentic bamboo. The interconnecting
runners may not be sticky, but they can digest whatever s lying on them. So if
they do catch something big, they can absorb it.
 Pleasant thought, said Leo.  For once, I m glad we didn t get carried away.
 For once, so am I. I grinned back at him.  I prefer a nice soft bed myself
anyhow. I went back to watching the canebrake.  Now I believe Lalique when
she says the canes have been here only since the cattle have. I don t know
why, but it s a good bet she s right.
 I don t get it.
 The fuzzwillies. They re adapted to live in canes like these, not in trees.
But when have you ever seen a fuzzwilly nest on the ground?
 Never, said Leo. His brows knit ferociously and then, like sun coming out,
all the laugh lines came back.  Good lord! I get it! The fuzzwillies are
mostly hair, so they don t get stuck to the canes. They just shrug off the
stuck hair and go on their merry way. Meanwhile, the sticky canes keep most of
the predators away from their nests.
Not Mabob, though. He had expendable scales, the way the fuzzwillies had
expendable fuzz. Made me wonder just how many Mirabilan critters would come
apart in your hands. But for now it was the fuzzwillies that interested me
most.
I said to Leo,  And& ?
Page 117
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
 And? You mean there s more?
 Come on, Leo& Think of those damn thick-shelled eggs.
His jaw dropped.  The canes the canes digest enough of the shell so the baby
fuzzwilly can break its own way out!
 Bet you re right. We ll stop back about egg-rolling time and see if we can
catch them in the act.
Leo rubbed his shoulder.  Better here than somewhere in the woods, especially
if you re right.
I had to raise an eyebrow at that. And at the shoulder he was rubbing.
He gave me a chuckle.  Egg-rolling time always brings back memories of sore
shoulder. A mama fuzzwilly dropped her egg on me once. My shoulder didn t so
much as crack the egg, but I had a bruise the size of a fist for a week. The
chuckle got deeper.  I had to take a rock to the egg to crack out the baby for
its mama. It was hardly her fault something soft walked under her tree at just
the wrong moment.
All I could do was smile at him. Damn but I love that man!
After a while, he said,  So tell me why you believe Lalique now.
 Oh, sorry. Look, I thought the fuzzwillies were going up an evolutionary dead
end, what with shells so thick the babies can t hatch. But if the shells
originally co-adapted to life in a canebrake, then where have the canes been
all this time that the fuzzwillies had to learn a new trick to  hatch their
babies?
 You re saying the egg-dropping trick is the only thing that keeps the species
going where there aren t any canes for them to live in?
 I m saying that s my best guess. Come on, let s ask Lalique what egg-dropping
time has been like since her family s been on Haffenhaff.
I collected a handful of leaves from widely spread canes; I also wanted to
check my theory that the stand was all one cane. Leo hollered up Mabob and we
started for the house.
We hadn t gone more than a few yards when the ground started vibrating
underfoot. I d felt that before.  Stampede, Leo, headed our way. Grab
Mabob and watch your toes!
Leo nodded, snatched up Mabob, and the two of us braced ourselves. Here they
came, looked like the whole damn herd at once. And they were spooked, no doubt
about it. There couldn t have been a single loose thought in one of those
tossing heads. From somewhere behind them, I heard one of Lalique s kids
bellowing,  Stampede! Watch your toes! Stampede!
Two of the bulls, in lead of the panic retreat, of course, were bellowing even
louder than the kid.
The challenge was too much for Mabob. He kicked his way out of Leo s arms and
charged the closest Guernsey, gronking at the top of his lungs. Then Leo was
after him, bellowing at the top of his, which is pretty impressive.
If you can t lick, join  em. I charged after Leo and Mabob yelling at the top
of my lungs.
I like to think that did it, but I suspect Mabob s fevered gronks would have
been sufficient. The herd panicked all over again, split right down the
middle, and flowed around the three of us like the Omigolly around Haffenhaff.
The moment they passed by, I got a taste of what had set them off. More than a
taste. I spat out a mouthful of the swarming horrors and swatted another
hundred or so away from my eyes. Damndest, most irritating a huge cloud of the
tiny insect-like natives swarmed after the herd. Over the plaints of the cows
and the whirring of the swarming horrors, I could hear Leo cursing
inventively.
Gunnar skidded to a halt beside us, spat out a mouthful of his own and said,
 You folks okay?
We did a quick check. Leo d gotten a bruised shin and I d gotten my foot
stepped on, but aside from that and the damn bugs in our faces we were fine.
Mabob loved every minute of it. (The swarming horrors didn t seem to horrify [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]