Red Moon Rising Read Online Free PDF Page B

that isn’t possible because the Cheese and the homesteaders do not speak the same words. The Cheese’s hands stay on his head as Papa seems to talk to him. The dactyl’s head clicks from side to side in a way that seems to say, You are looking mighty tasty, homesteaders.
    Papa turns his face against the wind and shields his eyes against the suns. His other hand—the one with the handbow—flies up to press down on his hat as a gust tries to take it from him. The suns glint off the sheriff’s star that is always pinned to the right side of his vest.
    When the gust dies down, Papa points to us and says something to the Cheese. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out . . . what? It’s too small for me to see. The Cheese doesn’t move his eyes from Papa, but his lips move and the dactyl suddenly lunges forward.
    I hear the creature shriek. Temple looks at me, her eyes huge. We haven’t had many lessons on dactyls, but there was one I will never forget. A dactyl lunges with certain speed when it begins eating. And often, a dactyl will begin eating its prey before the prey has been fully killed. Dactyls shriek in pain . . . and in joy.
    The dactyl is about to eat Papa.
    â€œStay with Boone!” I order, dropping Temple to the scrub. I charge Heetle into the valley. I hold my fist out, the holoscope of my handbow bouncing around, trying to compensate for my rapid, lurching movement. My gogs show the dactyl lunging at Papa again, I hear more shrieks, and then a burst of dust blows in front of me. The gum gogs try to focus on the dust and I lose sight of what’s happening. I’m blind to the scene now, my gogs having gone staticky; I rip them down around my neck and as Heetle hurtles toward the obscured triangle of the Cheese and Papa and the dactyl, I take aim at the pink, scaly shimmers that break through the dust cloud.
    Zip-pew!
    Zip-pew!
    I let fly with two light arrows.
    Papa swings around and waves his arms wildly, and I fear he must be already in his death throes.
    Heetle is so fast, I’m through the dust cloud and can hear nothing but my slamming heartbeat and her hooves pounding the scrub. As the wind takes another direction, I hear one more scream from the dactyl. The Cheese’s hands are off his head now and he’s gesturing at me and at Papa. Probably instructing the dactyl to finish off Papa quickly so it can carry the rest of us off for supper.
    Papa goes down on one knee and the dactyl lunges its pointy head at him as it screams again.
    Zip-pew!
    Zip-pew!
    Papa’s arm flies up. The dust is everywhere. His mouth is moving, but I can’t hear him.
    I shoot two more light arrows and this time the dactyl’s shriek is different. I’ve struck my target. I can only hope it was in time to save Papa. The dactyl is now horizontal and the Cheese is down next to it. Papa is hunched over. I’m close enough now that I slow Heetle and jump off, running toward the scene.
    â€œYou leave my papa be, you gum rockhead!” I shout. Then, repeating the words Papa says every night when we pray to the gods before we sleep, I yell, “We will not be threatened by the Cheese! We live on the wings of angels! Oh, gods, deliver us from harm!”
    I’ve reached them now, and having also reached the capacity of my lungs, I bend over, elbows on my knees,taking great gasps of dust and hot air from the one-man chugging off to the side. I lift my eyes to the scene. The Cheese’s eyes are round with surprise, his arm bleeding and burned. The dactyl is dead, a black hole where its left eye should be. Papa stands and walks to me. Relief floods my body. I was on time. I aimed well. Papa is safe.
    I push myself up off my elbows, taking more-measured breaths now. I smile at Papa as he rushes to me. Then my smile shatters as he smacks my face with the strength of ten men.
    â€œWhat have you done, girl?” he says, spit flying into my face.