The third day after Rea's death. Three days, and three of the hairy, half-naked white savages, he thought grimly. He had never killed a fellow being before—in York Dome hatred and love and loyalty were mere words from the barbarian centuries—but now he had destroyed three of his own kind. Nor did he feel any shame or regret....
The savages on Rea's backtrail had come upon Bryt Carby. He had killed one of them before they had overpowered him and built their fires.
Carby had not died until an hour after Brink had come upon the howling pack of six warriors and had emptied his gun into them. He had killed two of them outright and wounded three others; and then he had cared for the broken, blistered thing that had been his friend, until Carby died.
Now he watched before the cave where two savages lay hidden—and he watched the growing swarmings of green-bodied flies about the elevated rocky lip of their shelter.
The warriors must not escape to carry word back to their tribesmen of the settlement of the men from York Dome....
At a sound from behind him, he turned about, his rifle butt dug into his shoulder and chest, his finger pressing the firing button.
"Tzal!"
Behind the boulder overlooking the savages' rocky death trap he took her in his arms. She was Tzal, smiling and full-bodied as always, and his partner for this year and for the other years. The years yet to come.
She was dirt-streaked and sweaty. Her clothes were torn and her hair was matted and discolored with dust. Weariness darkened the skin beneath her eyes.... She was beautiful!
"Where," she asked him after a time, "are they hidden?"