"And—?" Pritchard prompted.
"Oh," she sighed wearily, "they came. They were the ones who got the fresh meat." She shuddered.
"Who's 'they?'"
"Please," she said, "I'd rather not discuss it any more. But I think you'd better leave. Certainly, you'd better not kill anything if you know what's good for you. Besides, you've done enough damage already."
Pritchard cleared his throat. The men behind him were whispering and snickering. "Speaking of leaving," he said, "how about you? If the Survey was wrecked—"
"I'm not interested in leaving," she said curtly. "I've got work to do here."
"What work?"
"I'm working with the people here."
"Oh, there are natives?"
"Certainly. This world is full of people."