him, he somehow found his feet, and stood weaving, trying to
see through the rain of dust.

The convulsions which churned up that concealing cloud were growing more
feeble. Then Shann heard the triumphant squall from Togi, saw her brown
body still on the torn tail just above the forking. The wolverine used
her claws to hitch her way up the spine of the sea monster, heading for
the mountain of blood spouting from behind the head. Fork-tail fought to
raise that head once more; then the massive jaw thudded into the sand,
teeth snapping fruitlessly as a flood of grit overrode the tongue,
packed into the gaping mouth.

How long had it taken--that frenzy of battle on the bloodstained beach?
Shann could have set no limit in clock-ruled time. He pressed his
wounded arm tighter to him, lurched past the still twitching sea thing
to that splotch of brown fur on the sand, shaping the wolverine's
whistle with dry lips. Togi was still busy with the kill, but Taggi lay
where that murderous tail had thrown him.

Shann fell on his knees, as the beach around him developed a curious
tendency to sway. He put his good hand to the ruffled back fur of the
motionless wolverine.

"Taggi!"

A slight quiver answered. Shann tried awkwardly to raise the animal's
head with his own hand. As far as he could see, there were no open
wounds; but there might be broken bones, internal injuries he did not
have the skill to heal.

"Taggi?" He called again gently, striving to bring that heavy head up on
his knee.

"The furred one is not dead."

For a moment Shann was not aware that those words had formed in his
mind, had not been heard by his ears. He looked up, eyes blazing at the
Wyvern coming toward him in a graceful glide across the crimsoned sand.
And in a space of heartbeats his thrust of anger cooled into a stubborn
enmity.

"No thanks to you," he said deliberately aloud. If the Wyvern witch
wanted to understand him, let her make the effort; he did not try to
touch her thoughts with his.

Taggi stirred again, and Shann glanced down quickly. The wolverine
gasped, opened his eyes, shook his miniature bear head, scattering
pellets of sand. He sniffed at a dollop of blood, the dark, alien blood,
spattered on Shann's breeches, and then his head came up with a
reassuring alertness as he looked to where his mate was still worrying
the now quiet fork-tail.

With an effort, Taggi got to his feet, Shann aiding him. The man ran his
hand down over