He stretched, and looked around. His magnificent senses could erma movement and life all about. It was a fertile, green world. The vibrations hi the earth beneath his feet, the odors trundling past on the humid breeze—he could read them all. The sun was getting higher, the air hotter, he hungrier. There was little wind. A good day for hunting.
Should he stay and wait for clumsy ground-dwellers? It was not a particularly good place. And the city-folk would rarely approach him. What to do?
Well, it was a lovely day to bask in the sun. Why not combine both? And there was always more challenge to hunting the sky-folk.
There were several great light-eaters about, in addition to the one whose body he’d borrowed for shelter. On a whim, he sauntered casually over to the next one, testing the footing around its somnolent body. The night’s dew had left it chill and moist here. But T’ang Lang, an expert and experienced climber, would have no trouble. He began to wend his way upward.
This particular light-eater rose about a hundred times T’ang Lang’s height. But he was not subject to vertigo. Heights held no more fear for him than his neighbors. He had other reasons for not climbing to
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The Empire of Tang Lang
the very top. The platform there was usually unstable. So while it afforded a better view of his lands, the increased wind and smaller blind made prey harder to come by, strikes more difficult.
He rose slowly, patiently, without the hurry that afflicted most climbers. Others who shared the light-eater’s body gave him plenty of room.