Аннотация
Flight in Yiktor by Andre Norton
Chapter 1.
Void, cold. Fold in the legs—do not move.
Cold – pain – the big one was using the prod again – pain.
Stand – jump – but it is cold – so – cold.
The small body edged between the two large woven baskets uttered a mewing cry. Then one claw hand flew to provide a gag against any more sound. But shivers continued to shake the too thin body.
Cold – where is cold – where is pain?
The curled body jerked as if a tormenting lash had been applied to the wrinkled greenish skin only too visible through the tatters which were not true clothing. No one had shouted those words. Yet they had come as clear and loud as if Russtif his ugly self were standing over the hider. In the head—not in the ear. Talking in the head! The small one tried to wedge even more out of sight, and now the shudders of fear were worse.
Where is cold? Where is pain?
The demand came again, imperative – to be obeyed. Wrinkl...
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