Bukal didn't answer.
Craig craned round, peered up at him. "Bukal! What's the matter?"
The bronzed face stayed bleak and bitter. "It is the end, Earthman," he answered heavily. "The end of my people and their dream of freedom."
"The end—?" Staring, Craig fought down a numbness. "You don't mean—?"
"Yes." Bukal's slash-mouth twisted. "Zenaor has carried out his threat. In a hundred spots south of the barrier, the ourobos are unleashed against us!"
CHAPTER VII
Restlessly, the djevodas lumbered through the grasslands—a large herd, numbering over half a hundred.
A tension seemed to hang about the creatures. Great snout-heads lifted as if sniffing the morning breeze, then lowered again, swinging to and fro, watchful and surly.
"You see?" Bukal clipped. "They sense that today they are the hunted, not the hunters."