It was the scent of these men that had brought Sadu here. Ordinarily he would have passed up the two-legged creatures for the more satisfactory flesh of zebra or deer, but there had been an absence of such meat lately because grass-replenishing rain had not fallen in many moons and the grass-eaters had strayed away from the vicinity in search of fresh pastures. Too, Sadu had found man easy prey when he was alone—in numbers he was dangerous, particularly when backed by burning brands and sharp-pointed sticks.
The circle of fire with which these men had surrounded themselves gave Sadu pause. Only the pangs of hunger kept him from turning about and seeking less complicated prey. Slowly the heavy lips rolled back, baring the great fangs, and from the depths of the cavernous chest came a series of grunting coughs.
As the dull, rumbling challenge reached the ears of those within the camp, men straightened from their tasks and looked fearfully into the heavy darkness beyond the light from the fires. A few unslung their bows and tested the strings, while others made sure their heavy war spears were within reach.
In the center of the camp itself, a group of five people—two girls and three men—broke off their conversation as the first notes of Sadu's voice reached them, and looked nervously at one another.
"Sadu is hungry too," one of the girls observed lightly as she turned her attention back to the freshly grilled meat on the clay dish before her.
"Will he attack us?" the other girl asked unsteadily, her dark eyes round with fear. Her slender, softly rounded body was covered with a knee-length tunic of some coarse, woven material and a cloud of black curls framed the delicate features of her olive-skinned face.
"I do not think so, Alurna," the first girl said, without taking her eyes from her food. "Sadu fears fire; he would have to be close to starving to brave the flames."
One of the three men, a slight, small-boned man whose round, full-fleshed face habitually wore an expression of slow-witted amiability, moved a little closer to the fire. "How do we know," he said anxiously, "whether this lion is not that hungry?"
The first girl shook back her wealth of reddish brown hair and looked at the speaker, her brown eyes sparkling with laughter. She said, "We can't know, Javan—not until he either springs through the fire or turns around and goes away."
If the words brought any comfort to Javan, his actions failed to show it. Once more he shifted his position until he was close to sitting in the burning branches and the fingers of his right hand were trembling uncontrollably as he groped for his flint-tipped spear.