A description of one of the known thugs tallies roughly. There were a bunch of books about dogs, but their stories all seemed sort of the same; there were books about horses too, with the same problem. I saw through eyes that weren’t yet quite mine, commandeered motor nerves to move limbs still built of alien protein. Bran thought about the tale awhile.
That was his last coherent memory of the Fist of the First Men. All the autumn flowers are in bloom justnow, and there are groves and fountains, shady courtyards, marble colonnades. Throwing everything into a long journey out to the edge of inhabited space … well, coming all of the way out to Makemake strikes me as desperate, at best. The deep violet silk brought out thepurple of her eyes.
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