“Kyra spied it just above the northeastern horizon when she had scaled the mountain down which she earlier scrambled. Not quite three-quarters full, it hung blue-and-white marbled, a cabochon gem on a raven’s breast, sigil of serenity. But—impatience flamed—it wasn’t that really, it was a clock, it had already swept out four of its days and nights while she lay captive. God, how many more? And yet, what wonders here were hers! The thought made her turn about, expectant. Faceplate darkening itsel...f against the glare in that direction, she now saw the heights as a confusion of broken rock, scarred ashen slopes, and shadows. Airless, to her it was not silent; she breathed, her heart beat, and likewise for her space-suit, ventilating, thermostatting, purifying, absorbing, recycling, well-nigh another organism. Barren, to her it was not lifeless; Rinndalir bounded from below, up into her view. The motion made his cloak swirl, a ripple and sheen of gray. He unfolded the membranes that reached through slits in it, and iridescence quivered from his shoulders, two slender lengths matching his height, dragonfly wings.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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