And these told him that indeed it was the Bad Watcher, for its head was draped in the same dark mane and it chattered as though trying to communicate (albeit with a new, softer voice).
And so he attacked.
––––––––
Seen from the sky, the Ford Ranger might have been a mere TONKA toy, following a winding road through a miniature forest.
For Oberon, charged with keeping all four of the Ranger’s wheels on the pavement, that forest seemed anything but miniature. In fact, it seemed down right menacing as the evergreens blew past—each and every one of them a candidate for collision.
He glanced at Nimson. “Don"t worry. My pilot’s license is good.”
The truck rocked; the biologist didn’t respond.
Oberon stared forward.
“You know,” he said, “we could’ve done this a lot easier in your car.”
Ni
