Narla's cheek was soft against Craig's ... softer than any satin. He kissed her eyes ... tasted the salt of the tears that welled from them.
His Narla, crying.
Again the amplifier roared its message: "Give up my daughter, Baemae! That is the price of life! Give up my daughter and the alien!"
Bleakly, Craig turned and looked back across the grasslands.
No longer were they a serfman's refuge. Not now. Not with the ourobos' slime upon them.
A flurry of movement caught his eye. Faintly, he heard djevoda bellow panic.
The panic that came with the ourobos. The same kind that turned free Baemae into wolves, hunting down his Narla.
"If you do not give them up, I'll know my daughter's dead and you will die with her!" the amplifier shrieked. "Give her up, Baemae! Give her up and live! Why should you care what happens to the alien, Nesom?"
Why indeed?
Tight-lipped, Craig pivoted.