“Shucks, he was right there. A big one. Their houses are just downstream. They often fish along here. Have to keep your eyes open, Chuck.” Hans looked thoughtful. “Kteela are people.”
“Huh?”
“They’re people. Paw thinks so. If we could just get acquainted with them, we could prove it. But they’re timid. Come on — we cross here.” Hans d~scended the bank, sat down on muddy sand by running water and started taking his shoes off. “Mind where you sit.”
Charlie did the same. Bare-footed and bare-legged, Hans picked up Nixie. “I’ll lead. This stretch is shallow — keep moving and don’t stumble.”
The water was warm and the bottom felt mucky; Charlie was glad when they reached the far side. “Get the leeches off,” Hans commanded as he put Nixie down. Charlie looked down at his legs, was amazed to find half a dozen purple blobs, large as hens’ eggs, clinging to him. Hans cleaned his own legs, helped Charlie make sure that he was free of the parasites. “Run your fingers between your toes. Try to get the sand fleas off as you put on your boots, too — though they don’t really matter.”
“Anything else in that water?” Charlie asked, much subdued.
“Oh, glass fish can bite a chunk out — of you…but they aren’t poisonous. Kteela keep this stream cleaned up. Let’s go.”
They went up the far side, reached a stretch that was higher and fairly dry. Charlie thought that they were probably-going upstream, he could not be sure.
Hans stopped suddenly. “Dragonfly. Hear it?”
Charlie listened, heard the high, motor-like hum he had heard the night before. “There it is,” Hans said quickly. “Hang onto Nixie and be ready to beat it off. I’m going to attract its attention.”
Charlie felt that attracting its attention was in a class with teasing a rattlesnake, but it was too late to object; Hans was waving his arms.
The fly hesitated, veered, headed straight for him. Charlie felt a moment of dreadful anticipation — then saw Hans take one swipe with his machete. The humming stopped; the thing flOttered to the ground.
Hans was grinning. The dragonfly jerked in reflex, but it was dead, the head neatly chopped off. “Didn’t waste a bit,” Hans said proudly.
“Huh?”
“That’s lunch. Cut some of that oil weed behind you.” Hans squatted down. In three quick slices he cut off the stinger and the wings; what was left was the size of a medium lobster. Using the chrome-sharp machete as delicately as a surgeon’s knife, he split the underside of the exoskeleton, gently and neatly stripped out the gut. He started to throw it away, then paused and stared at it thoughtfully. —
Charlie had been watching in queasy fascination. “Trouble?”
“Egg sac is full. They’re going to-swarm.”
“That’s bad, isn’t it?”
“Some. They swarm every three, four years.” Hans’ hesitated. “We’d better skip seeing my land. Got to tell Paw, so they’ll keep the kids in.”
“Okay, let’s get started.”
“We’ll eat lunch first. Ten minutes won’t matter — they aren’t really swarming yet, or this one wouldn’t have been alone.”
Charlie started to say that he wasn’t interested in lunch — not this lunch — but Hans was already starting a fire. —
What was left in the exoskeleton was clean milkywhite meat, lean flying muscle. Hans cut out chunks, toasted them over the fire, salted them from a pocket shaker. “Have some.”
“Uh, I’m not hungry.”
“You’re crazy in the head, too. Here, Nixie.” Nixie had been waiting politely but with his nose quivering. He snapped the tidbit out of the air, gulped it down, waited still more eagerly while Hans ate the next piece.
It did smell good…and it looked good, when he kept his mind off the source. Charlie’s mouth began to water. Hans looked up. “Change your mind?”
“Uh…let me tastc just a bite.”
It reminded Charlie of crab meat. A few minutes later the exoskeleton was stripped too clean to interest even Nixie. Charlie stood up, burped gently, and said, “Ready?”
“Yeah. Uh, Chuck, one thing I do want to show you…and there’s a way back above it maybe quicker than the way we came.”