It seemed to him that there was a slight movement in the marsh. He stopped. There was no sound about him; the chirpings in the water had ceased, and there was a quality of hush in the air, of almost ominous tenseness as though the marsh itself were waiting for him.
He began to feel a little frightened. He looked from side to side. Where was the thing? He had not realized how much he depended on the wrist tracker. He found that he was trembling, and the perspiration stung his eyes so that he had to keep blinking. Cautiously, he slipped one of his gloved hands under the edge of the hood and wiped his eyes.
Something rustled slightly in the oil-bushes. These were thick clumps of low shrubs, their branches a naked and repellent pink, covered with spiny leaves on which a thick, pungent oil gathered during each day. It apparently served to attract small insects which the leaves closed over in much the same way as the Venus fly-catcher, of Earth. Fenner went towards the bushes, moving very slowly, his gun tight against his hip, his net-capsule in his left hand.
There was nothing in the bushes, and yet he thought the moss beneath them looked flattened, as if something had lain there watchfully. Were there two of the beasts? Was one still in the marsh, among the reeds, while its mate stalked him here? His spine crept, and he glanced over his shoulder.
He went softly on. Beyond the bushes, the ground rose again in a high bank that overlooked the marsh, and all along this bank grew the lustrous red flowers. They were larger than poppies, emphatically vermilion so that they stood out among the dark greens and browns. They had hairy stalks as thick as a man's wrist, and all about them buzzed the snouted little beetles the survey team had named leptorrhinus.
Fenner stood before the flowers thoughtfully. Their leaves were broad, and close to the ground, but underneath one of them he could see a small cage of white: the clean rib bones of some animal. He went closer, bending to peer. Brittle bones, some with rags of skin clinging to them, were scattered here and there on the ground. There were also the empty wing-cases of some very large flying insects, as big as crows, spotted yellow and black.
If he was right, this was the lair of the beast itself. And just beyond these flowers, or even among them, itself vermilion now, the thing might be lying.
He straightened cautiously, holding himself ready for a sudden attack. And as he came erect, he was conscious of a curious light-headedness.
It was like inhaling too much oxygen. His ears rang and he felt giddy. He took a step, and it was as if the ground heaved under his feet like a living thing. A group of flowers before his eyes appeared to increase in size, and to sway towards him.
He shook his head to dispel the illusion. He staggered a few steps away, and it seemed to him that the flowers reached after him on stalks that became incredibly elongated, like red worms, bristling all their length with coarse hairs.