Adda's face crumpled with frustration. "Damn it all," he hissed. "I can't hear; my ears are turning to mush."

"I can hear them, Adda," Farr said.

Dura pointed. "That way."

Adda nodded, his good eye half-closed with satisfaction. "I knew it wouldn't take long. How many?"

Dura and Philas looked at each other, each seeking the answer in the other's face. Dura said, "I can't tell, Adda... more than one, I think."

For a few seconds Adda swore steadily, cursing his age, his failing faculties. "Well, into the Ring with it," he said finally. "We'll just have to chance there aren't too many in the herd." In an urgent, harsh whisper he gave them careful instructions on how, in the event of attack by a boar, they should scatter... and work across the Magfield flux rather than try to flee along it. "Because that's the way the boar will go. And, believe me, the boar will be a damn sight quicker than you." His face was a murderous, chilling mask in the twilight.

Dura said, "Philas, go with Adda and Wave around to the far side of the herd. Take the nets and rope and get downflux from them. Farr, stay with me; we'll wait until the others are in position and then we'll chase the pigs into the nets. All right?"

Hurriedly they passed around the equipment they would need. Dura took two short stabbing spears from the bundle carried by Philas. Then Adda and Philas slid silently into the darkness, working across the Magfield by Waving and by clambering across the parallel tree trunks.

Farr stayed close to Dura, still pressed close to her for warmth, trusting. For a few seconds she looked down at him — his eyes seemed vacant, as if he were not fully conscious — and she tried to imagine how she would feel if anything were to befall this boy, as a result of her own ignorance and carelessness.

Well, she thought ruefully, at least she'd done her best for him in the way she'd structured the hunt. It was undoubtedly safer to be upflux of the herd when the hunt started. And she would have been greatly more worried if she hadn't stayed with Farr herself.

With a last, brisk hug, she whispered, "Come on, Farr. We've got work to do. Let's see how close we can get to those pigs without them spotting us."

He nodded dully and drew away from her, still shivering.

Hefting a short spear in each hand, Dura began to pull herself across the lines of the fat trunks in the direction of the noises she'd heard. Moving in this direction, the resistance of the Magfield was added to the thickened viscosity of the Air, and the going was hard. She felt submerged and had to suppress a pang of panic at the feeling of being trapped up here, of being unable to free herself from this solidifying Air.