It had a touch of trilateral symmetry, like many creatures of the Smoke Ring, the Grad said. A smaller third wing was placed far back: a steering fin. The forward pair were motive power and (as the Grad gleefully pointed out) ears. Holes below each wing showed as organs of hearing when the Grad cut into them. The wings could be cupped to gather sound.

It was a digger. Those little wings would barely move it. Everything

in the Smoke Ring could fly in some sense; but this one would prefer to dig a hole and ambush its prey. Even its trunk wasn't all that powerful. The Grad searched until he found the sting that had been in its tip. The size of an index finger, it was embedded in Glory's pack. Glory nearly fainted.

They kept the claws. dave would use them to tip his grapnels. They cut steaks to be broiled and passed to the rest, who by now were moored on spikes outside. They set bigger slabs of meat to smoke at the back of the wooden cave.

Gavving realized that his eyes were blurry with exhaustion. Glory was streaming sweat. He put his arm over her shoulders and announced, "We quit."

"Good enough," dave called in. "Take our perches. Alfin, let's carve up the rest."

dave's team was well fed, overfed. They drifted on lines outside the cave. Meat smoked inside. The carcass, mostly bones now, had been set to block the entrance.

dave said, "Citizens, give me a status report. How are we doing? Is anyone hurt?"

"I hurt all over," Jiovan said and scowled at the chorus of agreement.

"All over is good. Glory, did that thing break any of your ribs?"

"I don't think so. Bruises."

"Uh-huh." Clave sounded surprised. "Nobody's fallen off. Nobody's hurt. Have we lost any equipment?"

There was a silence. Gavving spoke into it. "Clave, what are you doing here?"

"We're exploring the trunk, and renewing the Quinn markings, and stopping a famine, maybe. Today's catch is a good first step."

Gavving was prepared to drop it, but Alfin wasn't. "The boy means, what are you doing here? You, the mighty hunter, why did you go out to die with the lames?"

There was muttering, perhaps, but no overt reaction to the word lame& Clave smiled at AIim. "Turn it around, Quinn Tribe's custodian of the treemouth. Why was the tribe able to spare you?"

The west wind had softened as they climbed, but it was still formidable; it blew streamers of smoke past the carcass. Alfin forced words from himself "The Chairman thought it was a good joke. And nobody

nobody wanted to speak up for me."

"Nobody loves you."

Alfin nodded and sighed as if a burden had been lifted from him.

"Nobody loves me. Your turn."

Gavving grinned. Clave was stuck, and he knew it. He said, "Mayrin doesn't love me. I traded her in for two prettier, more loving women.

Mayrin is the Chairman's daughter."