Jonathan knew his eyelids were blotting out sight of the great lizard. He tried to mumble thanks, but a gentle torpor crept about him, embracing his brain, his tired, tired brain. He was so tired....
A soft hand on his forearm awakened him; brought him up sharply, alarmed, like a panther.
The girl who bent above him drew back in alarm, her violet eyes wide, thin nostrils flared, a cry hovering on her wet red mouth. She looked at Jonathan again and read the swift admiration in his eyes, and smiled.
"You frightened me," she accused softly, her lips undecided between a pout and a smile. "You are so big, so strong—like a dappled claw-thing of my native Zarathza."
So this was a Zarathzan. Jonathan found her good to look at. Her skin was a pale lavender, so delicately flushed that it seemed some strange, rare satin. Her hair was black, and coiled in coronas about her intelligent, shapely head. Her deeply glowing eyes were bright with laughter, and Jonathan thought her mouth would be perfect for kisses.
"We are not fighters, we Zarathzans. At least with our bodies, like you Earthlings," she said, looking at him sidewise. "It has been long since our kind were—beasts."
Jonathan grinned hugely.
"It's been a long time since a girl called me that. Must be something about me."
"Oh," whispered the girl hurriedly, putting a soft hand to his arm, "I do not mean to offend. Sometimes I admire the—beasts."
Well, he was getting on. He was keenly aware of her warm hand on his forearm. The girl felt his thought; flushed a little and stood up.