The Transall Saga Read Online Free PDF

and they wouldn’t spoil.
    Proudly he reached for his spear. Today he would have two weapons.
    But what he needed was a quiver to hold his new arrow. He jammed the tree rocks and jerky in his boot so one sock would be free. Then he tore holes, one on each side near the top of the sock, and tied on a long piece of his old bandage as a strap. He placed the arrow gently in the sock and slung the bow and quiver over his shoulder.
    As usual he went to the pool first. He looked for rocks but there weren’t many, and they were too smooth and round to be used for arrowheads.
    He studied the arrow again. The shiny rock used for the tip was different from any in the area. That meant that the owner of his arrow didn’t live around here. He must have come to this part of the jungle on a hunting trip from some other part of the planet.
    Mark looked at the mountains. Maybe the arrow people came from there. Suddenly he made up his mind. He wanted to find these people or aliens or whatever they were. Anybody would be better than being alone. That day, instead of circling, he would scout in a straight line.
    That morning he had been worried about whoever had left the arrow. Now he was curious, almost desperate, to find out more about them.

chapter
11
    The day’s scouting trip had taken him into strange new territory. The vegetation was still dense but it was more yellow than red and the trees were short and gnarled. The only animal he’d seen all day was deerlike. She was as big as a horse and had short curled horns. Two small spotted fawns were following her. When she saw Mark, she bounded away with her young close behind.
    There had been no sign of the arrow people. Discouraged, Mark decided he must be wrong about them living in the mountains. The next day he would try a different direction.
    Sitting down under one of the short leafless trees, he cracked open a tree rock. The forest here was dry, barren and ugly. He was glad he lived where he did. He laughed. He was home-proud. Some branches in a tree and he was proud of them.
    He drank the brown juice and contemplated the thought. It was possible that he would never be able to find the light. So far he hadn’t really made any long-term plans because he considered all this temporary. But what if it wasn’t? What if he was destined to live in this primitive world the rest of his life?
    A loud yell stopped his thoughts.
    Mark jumped to his feet. A voice—the arrow people. He grabbed his weapons and waited.
    Nothing.
    Why hadn’t he been paying attention? He couldn’t tell how far away the voice was or which direction to search in.
    The yell changed to an agonized scream. Someone was hurt. Mark started running. He raced through the brush toward the sound.
    Just when he thought he’d lost the sound, the terrified scream came again. He tore through the forest, jumping over bushes and ducking under limbs.
    He was on it almost before he realized it.
    By crouching low in the brush he spotted what seemed to be a kind of dog or wolf. It was standing on its back legs and its head reached high into the low branches. The creature had its back to Mark and was clawing at something in the tree.
    The Howling Thing. There was no doubt about it. It was huge, on its back legs at least as tall as Mark. The gray fur on its back was coarse and bushy, and long foamy gobs of saliva dripped from its mouth.
    Something in the tree—Mark thought it was some kind of monkey—and partially hidden in the leaves was frantically trying to climb higher, but one arm hung limp and one leg was bloody. The Howling Thing was clawing it to death.
    Without thinking, Mark took his single arrow and fitted it to his bow. He stepped out of the trees, aimed, drew and released all in one motion.
    The shot was as good as he could hope for. It struck the Howling Thing in the center of the back but it wasn’t enough. The beast wheeled and came for him.
    Mark stumbled backward, reaching for his spear. He wanted to run but his