The traders ranged far, and
perhaps there was a chance they had had contact with this tribe.
The spear twirled, and the younger stranger effortlessly leaped down the
bank, paddling over to Ross to pick up the suit he had dropped, holding
it up while he made some comment to his companion. He seemed fascinated
by the fabric, pulling and smoothing it between his hands, and Ross
wondered if there was a chance of trading it for his own freedom.
Both men were armed, not only with the long-bladed daggers favored by
the Beaker folk, but also with axes. When Ross made a slight effort to
lower his hands the man before him reached to his belt ax, growling what
was plainly a warning. Ross blinked, realizing that they might well
knock him out and leave him behind, taking the suit with them.
Finally, they decided in favor of including him in their loot. Throwing
the suit over one arm, the stranger caught Ross by the shoulder and
pushed him forward roughly. The pebbled beach was painful to Ross's
feet, and the breeze which whipped about him as he reached the top of
the bank reminded him only too forcibly of his ordeal in the glacial
world.
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