"Jondalar! Look out!" he cried suddenly.

A stone whizzed past the tall man's head. As he dropped to the ground at the warning cry, his hand reached for a spear. Thonolan already had one in his hand and was crouching low, looking in the direction from which the stone had come. He saw movement behind the tangled branches of a leafless bush and let fly. He was reaching for another spear when six figures stepped out from the nearby brush. They were surrounded.

"Flatheads!" Thonolan cried, pulling back and taking aim.

"Wait, Thonolan!" Jondalar shouted. "They've got us outnumbered."

"The big one looks like the leader of the pack. If I get him, the rest may run." He pulled back his arm again.

"No! They may rush us before we can reach for a second spear. Right now I think we're holding them off – they're not making a move." Jondalar slowly got to his feet, keeping his weapon ready. "Don't move, Thonolan. Let them make the next move. But keep your eye on the big one. He can see you're aiming for him."

Jondalar studied the big flathead and had the disconcerting feeling that the large brown eyes staring back were studying him. He had never been so close to one before, and he was surprised. These flatheads did not quite fit his preconceived ideas of them. The big one's eyes were shaded by overhanging brow ridges that were accentuated by bushy eyebrows. His nose was large, narrow, rather like a beak, and contributed to making his eyes seem more deep-set. His beard, thick and tending to curl, hid his face. It was on a younger one, whose beard was just beginning, that he saw they had no chins, just protruding jaws. Their hair was brown and bushy, like their beards, and they tended to have more body hair especially around the upper back.