He was dying and knew it. If the hot, drying sun and his festering wounds didn't kill him by nightfall, one of the big nocturnal predators would finish the task. He couldn't decide which he –

Footsteps again…

The same ones, light and stealthy, but much closer now. The passing creature must have seen some movement in the tall grass and come over to investigate. It had probably crouched at a cautious distance and watched.

The tery lay still and hoped. He could do no more.

The footsteps stopped by his head and a face looked down at him. A human face, bearded, with bright blue eyes. He lost all hope then. If he could have found his voice he would have screamed in anguish, frustration, and despair.

But the human neither ignored him nor further mistreated him. Instead, he squatted and inspected the near countless lacerations that covered his body. His face grew dark with…could it be anger? The tery was not adept at reading human expressions. The man muttered something unintelligible as his inspection progressed.

Shaking his head, the human rose and moved around to a position behind the tery's head. He bent and hooked a hand under each of the tery's arms, then tried to lift him. It didn't work. The human lacked the strength to move his considerable weight, and the slight change in position sent a white-hot jolt of pain through each wound. The tery wanted to scream at him to stop, but all he could manage was a low, agonized moan.

The human loosened his grip and stood up, apparently uncertain of this next step.

"Can you speak?" the man said.