He felt the breath upon his neck and leaped into the air, spinning as he leaped, stumbling as he came down, almost falling in the fire, then on his feet and scurrying to put the fire between him and the thing that had breathed upon his neck.
He crouched across the fire from it and saw the teeth in the gaping jaws. It raised its head and slashed, as if in pantomime, and he could hear the clicking of the teeth as they came together and the little moaning rumble that came from the massive throat.
A wild thought came to him: It's not an animal at all. This is just part of the gag. Something they dreamed up. If they can build a house like an English wood, use it for a day or two, then cause it to disappear as something for which they have no further use, surely it would be a second's work to dream up an animal.
The animal padded forward, and he thought: Animals should be afraid of fire. All animals are afraid of fire. It won't get me if I stay near the fire.
He stooped and grabbed a brand.
Animals are afraid of fire.
But this one wasn't.
It padded round the fire. It stretched out its neck and sniffed.
It wasn't in any hurry, for it was sure of him.
Sweat broke out on him and ran down his sides.