could be a weapon or a tool, as they pleased--not forgetting the
instantaneous call to action which was their older heritage.

The hopper returned. On the rock beside the shining things it
coveted, it dropped dried and shriveled fruit. Dalgard's fingers
separated two of the gleaming marbles, rolled them toward the animal,
who scooped them up with a chirp of delight. But it did not leave.
Instead it peered intently at the rest of the beads. Hoppers had their
own form of intelligence, though it might not compare with that of
humans. And this one was enterprising. In the end it delivered three
more loads of fruit from its burrow and took away all the beads, both
parties well pleased with their bargains.

Sssuri splashed out of the sea with as little ado as he had entered.
On the end of his spear twisted a fish. His fur, slicked flat to his
strongly muscled body, began to dry in the air and fluff out while the
sun awoke prismatic lights on the scales which covered his hands and
feet. He dispatched the fish and cleaned it neatly, tossing the offal
back into the water, where some shadowy things arose to tear at the
unusual bounty.

"This is not hunting ground." His message formed in Dalgard's mind.
"That finned one had no fear of me."

"We were right then in heading north; this is new land." Dalgard got
to his feet.

On either side, the cliffs, with their alternate bands of red, blue,
yellow, and white strata, walled in this pocket. They would make far
better time keeping to the sea lanes, where it was not necessary to