The beast reared violently, but Michel clung to its back. Only one idea obsessed him—to bend, break—
He let go and the entire body slumped limply to the ground.
Again he sparred with the other animal, but this one beat him to the attack, catapulting itself straight through the air at him. Drawers side-stepped the charge, and then his right fist descended with crushing force alongside of the Griff's ribs. There was a cracking noise as its ribs stove in like papier-mache.
It was squealing terrifiedly, and now Drawers knew his own power and illimitable strength. These Griffs, big and brutal, were hardly a match for him. Born to resist a gravity of more than twice that of his planet his bones were heavier, more compact. His muscles harder, his speed dazzling.
Again and again he came to grips with the Griff. Once its bestial fangs closed upon his shoulders and he just about tore away, his skin ripped and bleeding. His own breath was coming in great choking gasps, and his legs seemed to sag from the effort, but around and around the Griff he danced, his fists smashing a crescendo pitch of hate and power and destruction. And at every blow he could feel something give. Could hear the wind go whistling out of the weakening Griff. Could sense its great, untamed strength dissipating ounce by ounce.
Then he closed in for the kill. In a fever of fury he crashed his two big fists in bludgeoning hate to the Griff's head. It tottered to the ground—dazed. He leaped upon its back and grabbed for its head. Instinctively it eluded him and almost threw him from his perch. He grabbed a fistful of fur and retained his position. In a fit of inspiration, he began pounding sledge-hammer blows on the thing's back. His arms worked in a sort of savage rhythm, descending and rising in a blur of speed and power. And as he pounded away it seemed that this thing would never die; things were growing hazy ... he was tired, oh, so tired ... he was barely conscious of striking and from far, far in the distance his blows echoed back a tirade of destruction.
"What are you beating at, friend?" came a distant voice.
Drawers stopped suddenly.