One Against the Moon

by Donald A. Wollheim

He shot it, saw it fall over as it was about to leap at him. When he dug his arrow out, he saw that it was no wormlike insect, no segmented creature. It was a recognizable animal, a creature with two short stubby feet, two small extensions that were like hands on each side of an oval body. A definite head surmounted this, with one eerie eye set in the middle over its wide mouth. Two little breathing holes in the side attested to its possession of lungs. A long, curving rod grew out of the top of its skull and held a large yellow light-ball over it.

There was yet another peculiarity about this Moonhound, as Robin called it. It had no definite color. Its skin was faintly transparent, and he could see its inner organs shadowy within.

All this reminded Robin that there must be vast cavern worlds totally without light, yet having flora and fauna.

When there is no light, there is no need for pigmentation. Hence, this creature had none.

Robin also surmised that it was probably the cold that drove this beast into the lighted cavern in search of food, for he had never seen evidence of anything that large during the warm period.

Robin brought the carcass back to his cave and went to work to skin and cook it. At first he was not going to, for the hairless, colorless nature of it was rather repellent. But one thing Robin had learned long ago was not to let his emotions dictate to his needs. Like it or not, he was going to make use of everything here he could. He had a task, and that was to survive.

As a matter of fact, the meat cooked very nicely, turned brown in the fire, and tasted good. Further, it had a bone structure, which the Moonworms hadn't, and Robin saved these bones, knowing that there were many things that they could be used for. He remembered museum exhibits of bone needles, bone knives, and bone implements, including arrowheads and buttons that the Indians had made use of.

After that, Robin deliberately hunted for these Moonhounds and caught several others before the winter was over.

The warmth returned about when Robin had figured, starting a day or so after the surface sunrise. It rose rapidly, faster than it had fallen, and just as fast, new Moontrees were shooting up, new Moonmushrooms were growing, and the river was becoming warmer.

As time went on and month followed month, Robin found himself working into a comfortable, if primitive, routine. He charted exactly what to do on what days. He could tell in advance what he would be eating, what he would be harvesting. His rabbits had become sufficient in number to permit slaughtering, and he began to acquire a pile of rabbit furs. He found it no longer possible to keep all his rabbits in one pen, and finally liberated the majority of them and left them to shift for themselves. This worked out fine, and he never lacked the sight of at least one or two bunnies anywhere he looked. During the two weeks of winter each month they simply holed up as they might have done on Earth. It was an odd sight seeing the rabbits run wild, for their powerful leg muscles were many times stronger than was required by the weak gravity and, when they ran in a hurry, they would bounce many feet high in fantastic leaps.