"Come on," Urson said. "Let's go."
A thin scream sounded behind them, and they whirled.
It crouched apishly, the bronze-clawed fingers opened and closed like breathing, and the shaggy head was knotted with dirt and twigs. The breath hissed from the faintly moving, full lips.
Urson reached for his sword, but Iimmi saw him and whispered, "No, don't."
The Negro extended his hand and moved slowly forward. The hulking form took a step back, and mewed.
Geo suddenly caught the idea. Coming up beside Iimmi, he made a quick series of snaps with his fingers and said in a coaxing, baby voice. "Come, come, come." He laughed softly to Urson back over his shoulder. "It won't hurt us," he said.
"If we don't hurt it," added Iimmi. "It's some sort of necrophage."
"A what?" asked Urson.
"It only eats dead things," Geo explained. "They're mentioned in some of the old legends. Apparently, after the Great Fire, so the story goes, there were more of these things around than anything else. In Leptar, though, they became extinct."
"Come here, cutie," said Iimmi. "Nice little, sweet little, pretty little thing."