trying to move a soft mountain.
“Come on, Mudge. Have a heart.”
“Who, me? You know me better than that, mate.” As
he spoke Roseroar moved in her sleep, rolling partly across
Jon-Tom’s midsection and chest. He gasped and kicked his
legs in a frantic attempt to extricate himself. The tigress
purred thunderously atop him.
Mudge took his time getting to his feet, ambled lazily
over to eye the arrangement thoughtfully. “Our dainty lady
friend sounds ‘appy enough. Best not to disturb ‘er. I don’t
see wot you’re fussin’ about. It’s not like she’s got a ‘and
over your mouth. From where I stands it looks almost
invitin’, though I can’t say as ‘ow I’d trade places with
you. I’d be lost under ‘er.”
Jon-Tom put a hand on the tigress’s face and pushed.
She stirred, moved slightly, and nearly bit his fingers off.
He withdrew his hand quickly. She’d moved enough for
him to breathe again, anyway.
‘ ‘Any signs of pursuit?”
” ‘Aven’t smelled or ‘card a thing, mate. I think they’re
still too disorganized. If they are tookin’ fq_r us, you can be
sure ’tis to the south o’ Malderpot and not ‘ere. Still, the
sooner we’re on our way, the better.” He turned, began
gathering up his effects.
“Come on now, lad. No time to waste.”
“That’s real funny, Mudge. How am I supposed to get
her off me?”
“Wake ‘er up. Belt ‘er one, mate.”
“No thanks. I like my head where it is. On my shoul-
ders. I don’t know how’d she react to something like that
in her sleep.”
Mudge’s eyes twinkled. “Be more interestin’ to see wot
she might do while she’s awake.”