[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
thrust herself toward the hatch.
Something caught her at her waist. She ignored it and hit the edge of the opening with her shoulder. The
pack caught. She twisted, freed it, and grabbed the slick metaplas edge to pull herself out. Nitpicker was
right behind her she could sense the other woman in the water. Sense another mere nearby. Silt swept
into her face and urgently she shoved herself away. Be-hind her, Nitpicker followed suit. And then the
mudslide slith-ered over and buried the skimmer like a fat snake on an egg.
Disoriented, Tsia stroked hard, her body rolling as the pack fought her for buoyancy. A second later, her
hands hit mud and struck deep into waterlogged sludge. An eel slid across her wrist; instantly, she
recoiled. Beneath her, the mud gathered speed and slid on past. The slick mire caught at her feet like
quicksand. With sudden panic, she whipped her body madly, but as she twisted, the pack caught in the
slide. She panicked and jerked one arm free of the straps. Cat feet seemed to tear at the surface she
stirred up. Then she tore herself away from the gear, leaving it behind, buried in mud, while she clawed
her way through the water.
She moved into a long-armed stroke that was instinct as much as training. Her boots felt like bricks on
her feet; her blunter trailed and rippled like drags along her sides, and her flexor snapped against her thigh
with every kick of her legs. She didn't know if she swam up or sideways; only that she was no longer in
mud and that the cub seemed close too close. The shore she tried to image the shore to the cub, but
Ruka hissed in return.
At the sound in her head, she stopped swimming. For a long moment, while her heart pounded and her
cheeks poured then-heat into the water, she floated without moving. The cold water began to chill; the silt
ground between her teeth. She could not see, but when she put her hand over her face, the bubbles
floated out through her fingers, and she knew finally that she was on her back.
She turned over and checked her bubbles, and this time, she followed the air to the surface. Pressure did
not allow the enbee to give her full breaths, and her nose sucked in as she pulled only shallow breaths
from its filters. She hit a warmer clime in the water, and a cold one as she followed her gate to-ward the
sense of the cat. Then she hit the surface so abruptly that her arms were half out of the water before her
eyes reg-istered the lighter, flat-reflecting gray. Something bumped her from behind.
She twisted like a fish. Ruka? She cried out in a sound that was more sob than laugh of relief. Golden
eyes stared back. The cub had not swum to shore. He'd stayed behind like a beacon to guide her. She
opened her mouth to say his name, and her mouth filled with the slap of the water. She choked, went
under, kicked back to the surface, and motioned through her gate toward shore.
The wind slapped water up against their two heads; the rest of the lake was flat. The storm had whipped
off the crests that would have formed in calmer air; the spray from the missing crests was a vicious,
horizontal rain. Tsia squinted to keep her eyes clear and began to swim toward shore, but her body did
not lie flat in the water. Her legs dragged down with the weight of her boots, and like a sail, the blunter
billowed around her.
A wave struck her in the head, and she didn't have a chance to struggle before she went under. In her
mind, the cougar yowled, but she reassured it instantly. She had her enbee she could breathe; air was
not a problem. And swimming a meter underwater, she realized suddenly, was easier than fighting to stay
on top. Even blurred, Ruka's sight through the gate told her where the meres were on the shore. There
were two on the bank already, a third climbing out from the water with the aid of a fourth, and one more
in the water ahead.
Tsia paused and kicked and recounted.
Five.
Not six. One of the meres was missing. With the wind and water blinding her, she could not tell which
one. She opened her biogate to feel for the sense of a human, but she had to close herself to the cub; the
sense of him swamped her so that she could not feel the other species. The void that she created ached
with the faint sense of marine life that was left.
Floating, carried by the wind current on the surface, she forced herself to concentrate. She began to
identify distances and the mental shapes of light. Below, there was a growing sense of eels, and a school
of slim, blue-green tealers surged to her left. Wedge growths of weeds waved on the bottom. And each
second that passed, she felt the meres more clearly.
Wren was first and easiest she almost smelled him as much as saw his cold, hard energy. Doetzier and
Striker a cool, wary tension; and a closed, shallow light. Kurvan up ahead, wading out of the water, his
field as wary as Doetzier's, but his energy strong and hot. Bowdie with the heat of fear and irritation clear
even at that distance, as though he forced him-self to do something of which he was afraid. And
Nitpicker&
She could not quite feel the pilot& She opened her biogate wide, and the weight of life in the lake swept [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl exclamation.htw.pl
thrust herself toward the hatch.
Something caught her at her waist. She ignored it and hit the edge of the opening with her shoulder. The
pack caught. She twisted, freed it, and grabbed the slick metaplas edge to pull herself out. Nitpicker was
right behind her she could sense the other woman in the water. Sense another mere nearby. Silt swept
into her face and urgently she shoved herself away. Be-hind her, Nitpicker followed suit. And then the
mudslide slith-ered over and buried the skimmer like a fat snake on an egg.
Disoriented, Tsia stroked hard, her body rolling as the pack fought her for buoyancy. A second later, her
hands hit mud and struck deep into waterlogged sludge. An eel slid across her wrist; instantly, she
recoiled. Beneath her, the mud gathered speed and slid on past. The slick mire caught at her feet like
quicksand. With sudden panic, she whipped her body madly, but as she twisted, the pack caught in the
slide. She panicked and jerked one arm free of the straps. Cat feet seemed to tear at the surface she
stirred up. Then she tore herself away from the gear, leaving it behind, buried in mud, while she clawed
her way through the water.
She moved into a long-armed stroke that was instinct as much as training. Her boots felt like bricks on
her feet; her blunter trailed and rippled like drags along her sides, and her flexor snapped against her thigh
with every kick of her legs. She didn't know if she swam up or sideways; only that she was no longer in
mud and that the cub seemed close too close. The shore she tried to image the shore to the cub, but
Ruka hissed in return.
At the sound in her head, she stopped swimming. For a long moment, while her heart pounded and her
cheeks poured then-heat into the water, she floated without moving. The cold water began to chill; the silt
ground between her teeth. She could not see, but when she put her hand over her face, the bubbles
floated out through her fingers, and she knew finally that she was on her back.
She turned over and checked her bubbles, and this time, she followed the air to the surface. Pressure did
not allow the enbee to give her full breaths, and her nose sucked in as she pulled only shallow breaths
from its filters. She hit a warmer clime in the water, and a cold one as she followed her gate to-ward the
sense of the cat. Then she hit the surface so abruptly that her arms were half out of the water before her
eyes reg-istered the lighter, flat-reflecting gray. Something bumped her from behind.
She twisted like a fish. Ruka? She cried out in a sound that was more sob than laugh of relief. Golden
eyes stared back. The cub had not swum to shore. He'd stayed behind like a beacon to guide her. She
opened her mouth to say his name, and her mouth filled with the slap of the water. She choked, went
under, kicked back to the surface, and motioned through her gate toward shore.
The wind slapped water up against their two heads; the rest of the lake was flat. The storm had whipped
off the crests that would have formed in calmer air; the spray from the missing crests was a vicious,
horizontal rain. Tsia squinted to keep her eyes clear and began to swim toward shore, but her body did
not lie flat in the water. Her legs dragged down with the weight of her boots, and like a sail, the blunter
billowed around her.
A wave struck her in the head, and she didn't have a chance to struggle before she went under. In her
mind, the cougar yowled, but she reassured it instantly. She had her enbee she could breathe; air was
not a problem. And swimming a meter underwater, she realized suddenly, was easier than fighting to stay
on top. Even blurred, Ruka's sight through the gate told her where the meres were on the shore. There
were two on the bank already, a third climbing out from the water with the aid of a fourth, and one more
in the water ahead.
Tsia paused and kicked and recounted.
Five.
Not six. One of the meres was missing. With the wind and water blinding her, she could not tell which
one. She opened her biogate to feel for the sense of a human, but she had to close herself to the cub; the
sense of him swamped her so that she could not feel the other species. The void that she created ached
with the faint sense of marine life that was left.
Floating, carried by the wind current on the surface, she forced herself to concentrate. She began to
identify distances and the mental shapes of light. Below, there was a growing sense of eels, and a school
of slim, blue-green tealers surged to her left. Wedge growths of weeds waved on the bottom. And each
second that passed, she felt the meres more clearly.
Wren was first and easiest she almost smelled him as much as saw his cold, hard energy. Doetzier and
Striker a cool, wary tension; and a closed, shallow light. Kurvan up ahead, wading out of the water, his
field as wary as Doetzier's, but his energy strong and hot. Bowdie with the heat of fear and irritation clear
even at that distance, as though he forced him-self to do something of which he was afraid. And
Nitpicker&
She could not quite feel the pilot& She opened her biogate wide, and the weight of life in the lake swept [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]