The smaller sleds went first, bulleted a bit by the squall winds but flying quickly away from the turbulence. The heavier shuttle had to be turned, a maneuver Triv accomplished deftly, then it moved majestically from the cave, and rose with great dignity above the cliff. Varian grinned to herself: there was an element of unexpected theatricality in old Triv. She thought she heard a muted cry of astonishment from Kenley but the wind had got up and she couldn’t be sure.
With the sleds and shuttle gone, the cave seemed barren, her small alcove an intrusion. She settled lightly on the stool, shifting the weight of the recorder to her shoulder. The vines billowed in, and a splatter of the morning rain reached her, misting across her face and hands, making the small hearth fire hiss. She was positive she heard giff cries, shrill and excited. Why hadn’t she thought to equip Kenley with a wrist unit so he could tell her what was happening. Yes, she did hear what could only be a whoop, and a completely human emission. Patiently she waited.
She was rewarded. Suddenly the vines were shoved aside as three large golden fliers glided in, coming to a halt a respectful distance from where the shuttle had nested so long. Varian grinned at her use of terminology as she recorded them. All Three Giffs stared at the empty space, their wings still half-extended. The end giffs turned their heads inquiringly toward Middle Giff who gave the equivalent of a shrug and neatly laid his wings to his back in a gesture that might be rendered as resignation to an unpleasant truth.
Then each of the giffs appeared sunk down on its legs, pulling its wings tighter to the body and retracting the neck slightly. Varian perceived an aura of sadness and disappointment about the giffs.
A small sound, just at the audible level, came to her ears. It had to be emanating from the giffs for it was not a squall or wind noise: a sad and sorrowing note. So sad that Varian felt the short hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise and decided it was time to make a move.
She had just shifted the recorder when Kenley unexpectedly slid down the ladder pole. The giffs extended their wings, hissing and exclaiming so loudly that Varian was alarmed.
“Kenley, stand still! Spread out your arms! You’re peaceful!”
“I’ll say I am!” Kenley complied with her instructions but backed against the ladder as the nearest means of escape from the winged creatures obviously bent on attacking him.
To give him full credit, Kenley stood his ground while Varian dashed around the advancing giffs and jumped between them and Kenley.
“Don’t hurt him!” Varian cried, arms spread wide in front of the giffs to impede their progress.
“You know me! You must know me.”
“What if they don’t remember you?” Kenley had grabbed the first rungs of the ladder.
“I’m friendly! You know me.” It took a tremendous effort for Varian to keep her voice friendly.
The giffs were so close to her that she could smell the aroma of fish and spice that they exuded.
Their long pointed beaks had raised slightly and she was being regarded by very keen, hostile eyes.
The midwing digits were flexing as if to seize her.
“I’m sorry, I still don’t have any of the Rift grasses for you. Now is really not the time to appear before you empty-handed but I didn’t expect Kenley to come flying down here before I’d had a 122
Anne McCaffrey – Dinosaur Planet II – The Survivors chance to talk with you. Not that you could understand more than the tone of voice, but you do see that I’m trying to be pleasant and friendly. Don’t you?”
Middle Giff was towering over her, digits working, its head cocked slightly as it kept its right eye fixed on her.
“Krims, Varian, I don’t even have a stunner on my belt! What’re you going to do?”
“I’m going to keep talking,” she said, smiling so broadly she felt her cheeks might crack. “And you’re not going to move a muscle unless they dive on me. Then you better move it up that ladder.”