Chapter Twenty-Two
Hector arrived first at the meadow sward, his sensors giving him some warning of the grim scene he would find. The stench of fresh blood and ripped guts would have warned him in any case, even if he had not been alerted by every biowire in his body that a host of enemies controlled the ground.
The equii were packed tightly, the herd milling and snorting, stamping in an ever-diminishing circle. Around them, gangs of strikebeasts patrolled mercilessly, and even as Hector ran to the place, one of the gangs rushed at the heels of the herd and the panicked equii bunched and scattered, reforming as quickly as they could into their circle of relative safety. Too late for one of the yearlings, pulled screaming off his legs and dragged down into the midst of the strikebeasts. S
