"There is nothing but a mass of bleeding pulp beneath you."
Drawers started to get off the Griff's back. He staggered erratically. The world began to turn around and round, around and round.
Someone was leading him. He followed blindly. The next he knew he was lying back amid a mass of billowy perfumed cushions. Someone was forcing a sweet, golden liquid between his lips. He drank greedily, some of the liquid spilling down his shirt. He wiped his lips with his hand and settled back, relaxed.
Through half-closed eyelids he peered out at the small golden people. Then, in a tired, happy sort of a voice, rumbled, "I guess those two weren't hurt."
Persum, good old Persum, was standing there. Two radiant beings stood beside him.
"They are very grateful," stated Persum by proxy. "They wish to thank you personally."
"Aw, 'twas nothing."
"Nothing!" came an excited thought wave. "Nothing to kill single-handed and weaponless two of the most terrifying beasts this planet has ever known? Nothing to risk your life to save two alien people whom you did not even know? You are a hero! A great hero! And we are deeply grateful to you."
Now the woman came timidly toward him. Drawers breathed heavily with appreciation. A thing of exquisite, unutterable delight. A living poem of brilliance and charm. The most adorable, fascinating, of all the golden people he had met so far.
She barely topped the five foot mark. She was dressed in a little bathing-suit-like affair that had two bright stripes running up the front, and two small points extending down from the hips. Her eyes were flaked with tiny gold motes of color and seemed filled to overflowing with tender compassion.