"Alan Dean Foster - Humanx 1 - Midworld" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

Three arms supported it in a semistanding pose on
the outer edge of the bromeliad. It leaned forward,
the broad flat face dipping down to the water. Born
could hear slurping sounds.

6

The real problem was: when he whistled, would
that massive head turn left or right? If he guessed
wrong, he would lose precious, perhaps decisive, sec-
onds. Making his choice, Born slid the tip of the
snumer slightly in the grazer's direction. He pursed
his Ups and let go with a low, stuttering whistle. The
grazer wouldn't touch meat, but flowerkit eggs were
a delicacy.

At the sound of Bom's imitation of a female flower-
kit's danger call, the big head came up and around
and stared directly at him. Letting out a short, nerv-
ous breath, the hunter pulled hard on the trigger. In-
side the barrel a long, sharpened sliver of ironwood
shot backward, punctured the tank seed's stretched
skin. There was a soft bang as the gas-filled seed
exploded. The compressed gas was further compressed
by the narrowing barrel of the snufiler. Thus pro-
pelled, the jacari thorn shot outward and hit square
center of the grazer's flat, bristly face, just above
the mouth and between the two eye stalks.

All four jaws dilated. There was a horrid choking
shriek. The aural catalyst set off the surrounding
forest, and the panicked howling and crying continued
for long moments.



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The grazer took a hopping, threatening jump to-
ward Born, shook briefly as it landed barely two
meters away, and collapsed down off the cubble. But
the paralyzed hands and tail held it firm to the big
vine. Those powerful, multidigited fingers would have
to be cut or pried open.

He watched the creature steadily. Grazers had a
way of playing dead until their attacker came close,
when they would unexpectedly reach out to clutch
and rend with limb-tearing violence. But this one