Simon saw a humped thing suddenly sit up on the top and look down at him. He hid his face. He crawled forward and soon he understood. He saw the bones the teeth and the tangled lines. He was sick until his stomach was empty.
With the running of the blood Simon’s fit passed into the weariness of sleep.
The blood dried around his mouth and chin. Only sometimes when he lifted the ropes of creeper aside and chose his direction from the trend of the land, he mouthed words that did not reach the air.
At last he turned away and looked down at the beaches. The fire down by the platform appeared to be out, or at least making no smoke.